The end is nigh! You heard it here first
Children of Men at the Stratford Picture House, 7 October 2006
So, well, it’s not for the faint-hearted, let’s start there. It’s not exactly Star Trek either- which is good or bad depending on your level of geekiness. What it is you could call a dystopian drama of sterility and collective self-destruction set in the year 2027; a society without dirty nappies, but also without hope for the future. Which is better? Um, it’s a hard one to fathom.
There’s a lot of dirt and grime in this movie- all the gangsters and terrorists look like nineties eco-warriors- Indeed Robin of Sherwood would not look out of place. Tribal living is on the resurgence (flagellators, repenters, all kinds of medieval-sounding factions) and a reactionary (obviously Conservative) government are sticking refugees in cages at tube stations to scare the natives into submission. Middle aged childless women hoard china bulldogs and a cloyingly sentimental type of ‘Britishness’ is rampant amidst the chaos.
So where lays the hope? In the old Croupier himself, Clive ‘was too good for that James Bond shit’ Owen of course. Theo, the reluctant saviour who’s just had enough of the whole damn thing and enjoys hanging out with his old hippy pal, Michael Caine, who’s lives in an idyllic rural retreat (as near to idyllic as imaginable when the world’s gone to pot) with his invalid wife; growing cannibis (“Strawberry cough"), for the refugees in Bexhill on Sea, polishing the memorabilia of his photo-journalistic heyday, and philosophising about the relationship between free will and chance.
I won’t give too much away about the plot because about half an hour the movie heads off in a brave and unexpected direction; I have too much respect for the film to even hint at what happens (if you know anything about salvation stories though you'll guess there's a baby involved). Needless to say, this is a great film- not a great mood-enhancer, but food for thought definitely. I loved the details- the stuff about Britishness I’ve already mentioned, but also the billboard that reads ‘Last one out, turn out the lights’. Love that grim humour.
Oh and dramatically it’s really gripping- the portrayal of Bexhill on Sea as a kind of besieged Sarajevo/Warsaw ghetto, all gun shells and routine killings by the roadside, is powerful and hard-hitting, and there’s one scene inside the camp which involves the inability of three of the main characters to get a door open for what seems like an absolute aeon…well, it'll drive you crazy if you let it.
Basically this is a film you should see for the sake of your soul…yes, it's depressing, but there’s lots of action in it too, and the teeniest tiniest glimmer of hope breaking through the primordial fog at its heart-rendering termination.
9.5/10. GSG. (would have been 10/10 except that Michael Caine’s woolly cardigan was a bit too Last of the Summer Wine for me).
So, well, it’s not for the faint-hearted, let’s start there. It’s not exactly Star Trek either- which is good or bad depending on your level of geekiness. What it is you could call a dystopian drama of sterility and collective self-destruction set in the year 2027; a society without dirty nappies, but also without hope for the future. Which is better? Um, it’s a hard one to fathom.
There’s a lot of dirt and grime in this movie- all the gangsters and terrorists look like nineties eco-warriors- Indeed Robin of Sherwood would not look out of place. Tribal living is on the resurgence (flagellators, repenters, all kinds of medieval-sounding factions) and a reactionary (obviously Conservative) government are sticking refugees in cages at tube stations to scare the natives into submission. Middle aged childless women hoard china bulldogs and a cloyingly sentimental type of ‘Britishness’ is rampant amidst the chaos.
So where lays the hope? In the old Croupier himself, Clive ‘was too good for that James Bond shit’ Owen of course. Theo, the reluctant saviour who’s just had enough of the whole damn thing and enjoys hanging out with his old hippy pal, Michael Caine, who’s lives in an idyllic rural retreat (as near to idyllic as imaginable when the world’s gone to pot) with his invalid wife; growing cannibis (“Strawberry cough"), for the refugees in Bexhill on Sea, polishing the memorabilia of his photo-journalistic heyday, and philosophising about the relationship between free will and chance.
I won’t give too much away about the plot because about half an hour the movie heads off in a brave and unexpected direction; I have too much respect for the film to even hint at what happens (if you know anything about salvation stories though you'll guess there's a baby involved). Needless to say, this is a great film- not a great mood-enhancer, but food for thought definitely. I loved the details- the stuff about Britishness I’ve already mentioned, but also the billboard that reads ‘Last one out, turn out the lights’. Love that grim humour.
Oh and dramatically it’s really gripping- the portrayal of Bexhill on Sea as a kind of besieged Sarajevo/Warsaw ghetto, all gun shells and routine killings by the roadside, is powerful and hard-hitting, and there’s one scene inside the camp which involves the inability of three of the main characters to get a door open for what seems like an absolute aeon…well, it'll drive you crazy if you let it.
Basically this is a film you should see for the sake of your soul…yes, it's depressing, but there’s lots of action in it too, and the teeniest tiniest glimmer of hope breaking through the primordial fog at its heart-rendering termination.
9.5/10. GSG. (would have been 10/10 except that Michael Caine’s woolly cardigan was a bit too Last of the Summer Wine for me).
posted by gin soaked girl @ 7:00 PM
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