Future Classic Movies: Children of Men

My blogging colleague, and confirmed TCM addict, over at Paula’s Cinema Club had a most interesting idea for her blogathon, titled the Future Classic Movies. Paula posited the following:
“… I’ve often wondered what movies from the 21st century would stand the test of time, like Casablanca, Gone With The Wind or Out of the Past. If there is even such a thing as TV and channels in the future. What would programming look like in 30 or 40 years from now?”
The following is my contribution to this online project and surmises why I think the film adaptation by director Alfonso Cuarón and his screenwriters of P. D. James’s 1993 novel The Children of Men will endure to become a Future Classic.
A brief synopsis of the film: in the future time of 2027, the world of man has taken a decidedly bleak and chaotic turn for the worst. The world appears on the brink of a total societal breakdown. Terrorism and environmental damage are rampant, and the few places on the planet where things are seemingly under control (in the U.K. for this story) seem to have gone the fascist, military control route… big time. The reason for all of the despairing calamity comes down to one significant fact: the 18 years of human infertility. Theo Faron (marvelously played by Clive Owen) is one of the lucky ones — as defined by the fact that he is a U.K. citizen with a job, and not one of the ill-fated refugees clamoring to stay on Britain’s shores. You can tell the military and politicians consider them the ‘barbarian horde’ by their less than humane treatment of the outsiders. The Britain that “soldiers on” has become the cold gray sanctuary (and a testament to how bad it is elsewhere). The former activist is content to live out the remaining years of shared melancholy in alcohol-induced drudgery with his handful of friends. At least, before they euthanize themselves. Just about everyone here is in a joyless state. That is, until his estranged wife (the wonderful Julianne Moore in the all-too-short role of Julian) re-enters his life with a proposition to find a way to illegally transport a fugitive (“a fugi”) across the police state lines.
[spoiler warning: some key elements of the film are revealed in this article] Read more 
Same Song, Different Movie: Gayne’s Adagio by Aram Khachaturian
Continuing my thoughts from February regarding the use of song in film, “needle dropped” tunes are not officially considered part of a film score — those orchestral, choral, or instrumental pieces some consider background music. I think both are utilized as cues by filmmakers for a specific purpose or to elicit certain reactions by the audience. I’m fascinated by this in general, and movie soundtracks have specifically intrigued me. They represent a convergence of the music and film arts I’ve allocated much time toward. Some movie soundtracks (many my favorites) have incorporated those songs the director or music programmer have showcased in their movie along with the film’s score.
A few filmmakers have made it part of their filmography to incorporate popular song as a regular element in their work. Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, and others do this very well. So, I’ve claimed this use of music, whether others like it or not, is very much a part of the movie experience and related to its composition. It is something I continue to watch out and listen for it in my movie viewing. Giving credit where it is due, I never would have started anything like this series if not for my blogging colleague over at Fog’s Movie Review. It was his excellent, Tossin’ It Out There: What’s YOUR Favorite Song From a Movie?, that kicked it all off:
“… there’s a deep connection between the two arts, and sometimes that winds up creating an inseparable bond between the two in the viewer’s mind.”
Once more, I’ve selected a song used in more than one movie. Like the opera aria I noted for the Patrick Cassidy piece in this series, we’re again in the classical music genre. This, another mournful piece, was used in a pair of films by two very different directors and film scorers. Both used the music in equally isolated deep space scenes from two very different sci-fi motion pictures almost two decades apart — I’m referring to the Adagio movement from Aram Khachaturian’s four-act Gayne Ballet Suite. An adagio is the term that refers to the speed the music is played, in this case “slow and stately (literally, “at ease”) (66–76 bpm)”.
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Stanley Kubrick’s eighth film is well-known to both science-fiction and film aficionados (along with a couple of my friends who still find it hard to sit through
). One of its chief distinctions is that the filmmaker famously (or infamously) used classical music pieces from existing recordings for the soundtrack (throwing out Alex North’s score without his knowledge — he only found out after he saw the film’s première screening). Kubrick’s selections had the effect of making the story, with its breakthrough special effects and the imagined future presented, more relative and relatable to the contemporary audience (then 33 years beforehand). The Adagio sequence heralds the entrance of the Discovery space ship and its small crew on their way to the secretive Jupiter mission. It is simply an elegant and evocative piece of music, one used by Kubrick to denote the lonely and tentative existence these people find themselves in the large cold vacuum of space (which is its own reference to all of human kind on the third rock from the Sun). The scene uses music as dialogue (for a film that hasn’t much of it) and it is one of the most cinematic and amazing sequences ever filmed, IMO.
Aliens (1986)
Director James Cameron and composer James Horner had a number of understandable hurdles to overcome in delivering a sequel to one of the more iconic films and scores that closed the previous decade. Alien was all that, plus it delivered one of the best opening movie titles ever put on celluloid. To their credit, they took Aliens in another direction, yet maintained the core to that film and with a clear homage to another sci-fi classic (the one above). Horner’s score is less subdued than Jerry Goldsmith’s, but it’s in keeping to each of their film’s narratives. Aliens‘ opening titles moved to establish Ripley at the long end of her lonely journey from the previous movie’s finale to this point by dropping in 2001′s musical ship analogy by way of Horner’s reproduced tribute to Gayne’s Adagio. The movement segues in when the shuttle appears on-screen in that segment. Perhaps not coincidentally, the adagio commences as the composer’s credit appears. You’ll note his stamp on his piece is more up-tempo while still maintaining a forlorn mood of the music. It’s a tuneful hint to what’s to come and a nice acknowledgment to the ’68 film.
[note: the only video for this title sequence is at the Art of the Title site and is not available for sharing, but you can view it via this link. YouTube does have the represented music track and is embedded below, the quoted section is from the 1:00 mark to 2:19 by the composer on the soundtrack]
[Wikipedia reports James Horner has quoted from this piece of music three times in his scores: Aliens, Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger. As well, "The Adagio was also used, among other pieces by Khachaturian, in Tinto Brass's Caligula." For that last notorious film, I was probably distracted by other things to notice that particular musical piece
]
Other Posts in the Series
TMT: Sharply Touching My Emotions
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time series that was begun here. Chasing the continuing Versus AFI: 10 Top 10 arc I have going this year, currently centered on the Fantasy genre, it was only fitting I’d chronicle another film in this theatre-memory series. I can feel my nostalgia Spidey Sense kicking in…
Kim: “Hold me.”
Edward: “I can’t.”
Theatre
Movie
Time
December 1990: as I’ve noted in this series, the area of Westwood Village (the small college town/district to the south of the large U.C.L.A. campus) was a regular haunt for me in my younger days. With a dense amount of unique film theaters and various eateries clustered together for students, visitors, and tourists alike, it was the movie date hotspot for a certain time during the 70s and 80s. And while our newlywed status lasted, my bride would accompany moi for all such excursions there.
This probably led she-who-must-be-obeyed to attend motion pictures she may not have taken in first-run, or at all. Still, having her with me on those occasions I wouldn’t trade for a month of Sundays. She is special, this one. So, sitting next to my bride watching Edward Scissorhands only added to the moment and the memory, her not quite the Tim Burton fan and all.
Bringing my wife to the Bruin Theatre was just icing on the cake. Studios from time-to-time still have movie premieres there to this day. But since this beautiful hall is in the shadow of her landmark sister theater right across the street, this one is outshined too often, unfortunately. It’s too bad. Patrons who once graced her auditorium, years ago, would note the murals there that kept them company in the dark as they glowed. They’re sadly painted over, now. At least, her doors remain open and you can still catch a movie there.
The entire series can be found here. If you’re interested how it’s put together, click here.
TMT: Two of Us on the Eve
This is the next entry in a Theatre… a Movie… and a Time series that was begun here. Since I am continuing my Versus AFI: 10 Top 10 arc, this time looking at the Fantasy genre, it was only fitting I’d chronicle another of them in this series. Sometimes, triangulating, or even estimating, a date when such a movie experience occurred is the hardest aspect to achieve in these posts. This, however, was one of the easiest.
“That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.”
Theatre
Images c/o Cinema Treasures site
Movie
Time
December 31, 2002: honestly, my wife did not know what a single movie started the year before. The only one between the two of us to have read J.R.R. Tolkien‘s three volumes of his Lord of the Rings saga (along with The Hobbit), she alone had an idea what would be translated on to the big screen. I did not. Even she got caught up with the epic fantasy tale all over again in December of 2001 when we saw The Fellowship of the Ring on one of our now infrequent movie dates. She hadn’t realized a pattern had been set in motion. Silly rabbit.
Back then, with a seven and three year-old at home, making arrangements for a parents movie-night out was an exercise in coordination, even under normal circumstances. Tying it to a weeknight (it was a Tuesday) and the New Year’s Eve holiday (did I mention we saw the first LOTR on the last day of the year? No?) made it that much more of a challenge. But, I was not to be deterred, even if my lovely spouse told me we did not have to see the second installment exactly on the identical day, or at the very same theater complex, once more.
Men and women sure think differently. I am nothing if not a stickler for tradition (indeed, not if I’m making it up as I go along). Returning to The Bridge Cinema de Lux (today now owned and run by the RAVE theater chain) was a given in my estimation. With the sitter arranged and booked (by me), off we went for the early evening screening of The Two Towers. Still, there was no way she-who-must-be-obeyed would not have us back to the house later than 10 PM, especially with ‘Eve’ revelers all about. You see, there is a limit she will tolerate from the film fanatic she married. Naturally, I made sure we’d be back to this same spot one year later.
The entire series can be found here. If you’re interested how it’s put together, click here.

















