The writing, unfortunately, is another matter. It’s not bad by any means, it’s just not as extraordinary as the direction. The plot concerns the possible salvation of the human race in the form of the first pregnant woman the world has seen for eighteen years. It falls to Theo (Clive Owen) to get Kee (the archetypally named pregnant woman) to the Human Project and thereby redeem himself so that he can die happy.
Theo’s transformation from apathetic former revolutionary to a good soldier in the liberal fight is, quite clearly, meant to comment on our own society’s current apathetic stance towards the world’s ills. Talk to most people about global warming or the looming global oil crisis or Social Security or Medicare, etc. and you’ll likely find their opinion mirrors Theo’s. Something along the lines of, “Yeah, it’s a tragedy but what can you do?”
Of course, being the hero of a multi-million dollar blockbuster entertainment, Theo will get that question answered in spectacular fashion. He finds purpose and fulfillment and then dies (because, for some reason, serious movies are not allowed to have their protagonists become fulfilled and content (see: American Beauty)). The larger point Cuaron is trying to make, I suppose, is that we all have the potential, like Theo, to rediscover our desire and motivation to change the world and we’d better start doing it or our world might end up looking a lot like the 2027 of this film.
And when you get right down to it, that’s a pretty decent message for a film to have. It’s not revolutionary, of course, but at least it’s a coherent philosophy that’s meant to make the world a better place. And it’s carried off pretty well here without calling undo attention to itself. The same, however, cannot be said of the filmmaking technique itself. It is quite revolutionary and goes far out of its way to call attention to itself. But that’s just fine by me because it’s just so damn brilliant as to be undeniable.
The film is opened by one of the best first shots in the history of cinema. It may not quite rise to the level of Touch of Evil's famous opening tracking shot but it gets very very close. The shot is a technical tour de force (involving moving from indoors to out, over counters and through doors and ending with a violent explosion). But more than that, it thematically encapsulates the whole of the film without anyone (other than the talking heads on the television screens) uttering a word.
It shows the audience Theo, the only person in the coffee shop crowd not interested in what the TV newscasters are saying (i.e. Theo is different and stands apart from everyone else in this world). The crowd itself is composed almost entirely of white faces (which subtly references the film’s other major theme of the mistreatment of illegal aliens). And when Theo steps outside and the shop explodes, it does so in the most unexpected, and therefore violent, way imaginable. (Unfortunately the trailer has ruined the shock value of this for almost everyone, myself included.)
The unexpected nature of the violence is important for several reasons. Firstly, a violent explosion is perhaps the very last thing a person who has just bought a cup of coffee is thinking about, just as the idea that women could suddenly stop having babies is probably the very last doomsday scenario anybody is thinking about. But like the explosion, the lack of childbirth would, of course, be devastating. Secondly, the suddenness (and seeming randomness) of the violence presages the sudden, random and awful violence that will recur throughout the rest of the film (including some of the most visceral and downright shocking violence ever seen on screen). Most human beings' experience of violence is, for the most part, random. We seldom get involved in shootouts or knife fights or huge street brawls. The violence in most of our lives is more mundane, like a car crash or a stumble that results in a fall down a flight of stairs. That sort of violence is the only way most of us will ever experience real trauma. And it is that sense of shock and suddenness that is often lost in the average film. Not so Children of Men. It gets it absolutely, perfectly, breathtakingly right.
And that is to say nothing of the profound impact of the moments that occur after the birth of the child (which, not accidentally, is born on a makeshift bed in a rundown building when no other place could be found (not unlike a certain Savior)). Near the end of the film, Theo, Kee and the newborn infant find themselves in the middle of a shooting war between Her Majesty’s army and the refugee guerillas. Frightened by the sound of gunfire, the baby begins to cry. And all who hear the cries fall silent and lower their weapons. The whole war stops to listen to the cry of a baby because, in this context, the infant is hope incarnate. But then, as soon as the baby’s cries are out of earshot, one of the refugees opens fire once more. So hopeless have they become that hope is only real when they can actually see and hear it. It’s a clear message to the world of 2007 where it is so easy to become disillusioned with the idea of actual change. If we don’t work at it, Cuaron is saying, then hope is already gone. And this is the one moment in the film that really brings that home.
