Through a Lens Darkly

Rating: 8/10 (18 January 2007)

Alfonso Cuaron's Children of Men has captured man in his element, a self-destructive force, more comfortable in the role of destroyer than creator or enforcer of justice. Using a constantly moving camera, combined with powerful sound effects and brilliant editing, he invites us into the very abode of the devil himself, a visually fascinating journey.
It is as if the audience is drawn into the film, against their will, becoming a key element of the story. We are given a camera and are forced to join Theo in his many adventures and observe his every move, as he confronts his enemies and adapts to an unexpected and rapidly changing environment. We find our selves in Jasper's house (the character played with such ease by Michael Cane), and as we often do when we are visitors to a house, we seek in images and objects and various bits and pieces of paper, the life story of our host, and so the camera slowly pans its way across the many paper clippings and mementos so lovingly put together, curious to know but afraid to ask, why his wife sits silently, looking into know where. When the leaves rustle gently in the wind, you look up, or the camera does, fascinated by the giant and ancient trees, as they sway gently sway back and forth whispering to each other, earnestly. As Theo dodges the bullets and weaves his way through the violent streets, and people who seem to have lost their way, we are given a first hand view, up close and personal, of humanity slowly disintegrating and dying a slow and tragic death.
In the end, we have to stop and leave Theo to his fate. As the camera slows down and widens its scope, the image is startling; a boat rocks back and forth in turbulent waters, hidden amongst the thick mist and stormy skies, its fate, and the fate of humanity itself unknown. Suddenly like phantoms, fighter jets scream overhead, to be followed, in the distance, by muffled sounds and flashes of human destruction. Adding a disturbing color to a disturbing landscape, like a painting from one of the Dutch or French Masters, framed forever on a museum wall.
The actors are used as mere tools and instruments in the telling of a story, they play their part and vanish, as they are meant to, that is why one cannot help but admire the performance of Clive Owen as Theo. His gaunt haggard face, unshaven, with deep sunken eyes, fits perfectly into the mood of the story. A man who has lost all hope or belief in anything, thrust into a world filled with characters that have sunk deeper into a nihilistic nightmare.
In fact, (and it could be just my imagination working overtime) some of the characters seem to have walked right out of a Gogol or Dostoyevsky novel. I would go so far as to say that this movie brings to mind what I have always imagined Russia or Germany to have felt and looked like during the later half of the 19th Century through the first few decades of the 20th century.
I was also reminded, as I watched this movie, of the brilliance of a Schindler's List or the camera movements of Saving Private Ryan. There is something very similar in the nature of the personalities of Oskar Schindler and Theo. Both seek redemption; both are alone, isolated from the rest of the world, fighting it, and the demons within. Speaking of Theo, the name is not much different than Neo, from the Matrix; one could say that this movie is a more realistic approach towards similar subject matter.
Through the eyes of the director and his camera, we are forced to bare witness to the state of human existence in the present; a world where everything and anything is possible, a world without hope or faith in the greatness of humanity and its leaders. Thrust or born into such a world, the individual will believe any one who provides them with a sense of hope and belonging, and therefore will justify using any means possible to make sure that they are never separated from what they believe to be a sanctuary, a cause that gives them a sense of identity and worth. From this, fundamental principles are born, and spread like a virus through every aspect of human life; religious, secular and economic. As the movie develops, the eternal hope is that with the birth of every new born child, we will somehow regain our humanity. We pause for a moment in the midst of whatever we are doing, our expressions soften and we bow in reverence, but familiar sounds bring us back to reality, into a world in which we are most comfortable.
While Freedom Writers uses the power of a brilliant performance to steer things up; Children of Men, has a stronger foundation on which to build on, with excellent direction. Both movies are bold and dare to take risks. While Freedom Writers is far more hopeful and positive, Children of Men does not use sentiment, it is brutal and honest, focusing on Man in his most natural environment. The director exploits to the fullest, the creative freedom and license that has been bestowed upon him, by the powers that be. On the other hand, by limiting the number of people who are going to see this movie, or can see this movie, they have taken back what they gave so liberally. It would be a shame, if this movie as well as Freedom Writers, is denied the opportunity to participate in many of the award ceremonies that flourish during this time of the year.