Thursday 24 November 2011

Retrospective Review: Children Of Men

I hold my hands up and admit that as good a film student as I was (my words), I had never seen Alfonso Cuaron's Children Of Men until last Monday night. I'd like to claim that my film workload was too much of a burden, and prevented me from watching...y'know, films...but truth is, there's probably quite a few modern classics out there which haven't gotten the time from me they whole-heartedly deserve.

So, banging through them one at a time; Children Of Men.

One thing I must immediately brag about, not for myself but for the film, is how it is able to look past its 'Sci-Fi' tag and dig a little deeper. This doesn't just include its lack of special effects, but its very vision of a dystopian society set in Britain which holds numerous political and social overtones. As the last standing government worldwide, the UK intends to be, in a way, a Utopian state, but the influx of asylum seekers from, what I imagine is a global scale, has dissolved into into a police state, where foreigners are locked up in cages, segregated from the last traces of humanity, viciously beaten, and slaughtered.

The concept drives this notion -- there are no children. Two decades of infertility have wreaked havok on Earth and two significant scenes characterized this perfectly for me:

1. The film's opener. The youngest man on Earth was 18 year old -- heralded as a celebrity for this status, the movie begins with a news report on his death (anger after he refused to sign an autograph). The pictures that follow, the grieving public, the riots in the street, it draws comparisons to images post-9/11. The loss representing the pain and suffering of a childhood all but abolished.
2. Our protagonist, Theo (Clive Owen), visits his cousin, a government official, in order to secure transit papers for a young girl. In the corridor of his home, Theo comes across Michaelangelo's David. Stood resolute, for all to see, like a pot-plant, or family portrait. In 100 years, there will be no one left to remember any of this. "I just don't think about it" is the solemn reply.

Clive Owen is very good here, and due to the wicked nature of his surroundings, his character's development happens almost instantaneously. He's very much given up on trying -- he's a former activist, turned civil servant, and he's accepted the world he occupies a place in. Nothing can save them now -- until one poignant scene, where the young girl he's agreed to travel with, removes her top, revealing a 'miracle' -- after 18 years, he's just come across the very first pregnancy. From then on, it's not a tale about motherhood, about caring for the youngster -- it's not about saving a world which is destroying itself, one street bomb at a time. It's very much about hope, resolution and faith -- the pregnant girl, with so many religious connotations, holds the key to everything and the film has a unique way of getting that message across.

Generally, when a movie contains as many action sequences as Children Of Men, the director will spend hours in the post-production room with the Editor, cutting it here, inserting shots there, rapidly criss-crossing through the scene, across different perspectives, to give a sign of the kinetic and frenzied attitude of the action. Yet here, Cuaron stretches his single-shots for as long as 10/15 minutes, tracking his characters, following them through the decaying rubble and muffled background explosions, never leaving them in their actions. It's innovative, choreographed with immense skill and meticulousity, and adds a touch of grace to the grey, mundane setting.

An example:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=en16i8BY4hI

I admire the film for never losing focus of what is important, and neither do its characters. They are just like me and you -- there's nothing special about them whatsoever, they just want to survive. How would we feel if Theo came across a massive revelation at the end, including government conspiracy, the answer to 'everything' etc? It doesn't matter, because there is no reason, and there never has to be one. Cuaron presents us with the action as it unfolds, with very little use of exposition and as a result, we are right there in the film, a visceral experience like no other.

A must-see.

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