Last spring I compiled a list of 200 movies I've never seen before. I will eventually see all 200. I'm making it happen in alphabetical order. Here's the next one.
Children of Men
2006
A conversation between Joe and Sunny, via email.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Joe: First off, thanks for the inadvertent suggestion on this movie. Back when I first was compiling the Never Seen It list, I was going through some of the Your Favorite Movie interviews, looking for interesting movies that had been mentioned that I felt should be included. We were talking about the crazy tracking shot in Oldboy, and you had mentioned that Children of Men had some pretty crazy tracking shots as well. I'm a basic bitch who loves a good tracking shot, and so here we are.
This might have been the best movie I've seen so far on the list. It's only been about an hour since the credits rolled, so maybe that will change as I get comfortable with my thoughts, but first thought was, yeah, fucking great. Probably the only competition so far is Bee Movie. Just kidding. Probably the only competition so far is Brief Encounter. Both movies gave me that particular type of gut-punch that only my favorite movies do. Obviously, the emotions evoked from each film were for wildly different reasons, so much so that I don't even think it's worth going into a "Brief Encounter v. Children of Men" compare/contrast. The only similarity is that they both touched something deep within me.
So primarily I'm interested first in knowing how you felt about this movie when you first saw it. And you can briefly say when you first saw it, and all that.
I'm reading a couple articles online (a lot of them around 2016, when the rise of Brexit/trumpism made the ten-year anniversary of this film feel particularly important, apparently), and most of them touch on the theme of "hope" in this film. Which probably speaks a lot to why I'm feeling the way I do right now (though the technical aspects might have a lot to do with it too, but we'll get to that eventually). There's the whole idea that there's this world without children, and if children traditionally represent "hope in our future," then the inference is that humanity has lost all hope. But there is a reluctant hero in Clive Owen's Theo who is awakened to the possibility of hope as he brings the mother of the first child in eighteen years to safety (we assume!).
And it's had a peculiar impact on me, this film and its theme, and forced me to conclude that that's probably because I am pretty often a cynical pessimist when it comes to the future of our own reality. Late-stage capitalism, global warming, trumpsim, whatever and however you wanna explain it, I just... I just don't usually have a sunny (sorry) outlook on the future, as much as it pains me to say that with two small kids. Like, I remember getting told off by Pam last April when I was saying shit like "well I guess we're all just gonna have to accept the fact that we're all getting COVID eventually" and shit like that, because it was too damn pessimistic. She was right. I am. It's something I don't like about myself, but it's mostly true.
So, I dunno, I guess I'm thinking that maybe I am currently feeling like Theo was at the beginning of the movie, and Children of Men has made me consider what would make me wake up from this fucking stupor.
I've been liking framing these Never Seen It articles as conversations with friends instead of writing on my own because I feel like it gives me the freedom to write whatever comes out of my fingers without thinking, instead of being faced with the prospect of actually constructing a well-thought-out essay.... but the flip side of the coin is that sometimes I end up with emo-soaked dreck that I wrote about. Sorry. Let's try to twist the self-loathing into a legitimate question for you, and then we can get into all the nitty-gritty explosions and blood-spattered camera lenses. Ahem.
Do you feel like a movie has ever had the ability to wake someone from such a stupor? Like, okay, obviously there are connections between the "fugee" situation here and the real-life children-in-cages American atrocity. But what the fuck have I done about that atrocity? Gave $20 to some nonprofit I probably googled? A passive stupor. And I get the sense that Children of Men was designed to maybe be that awakening event, like, "Holy shit I just saw Children of Men and don't want to live in that world and I'm going to take action now!" but then I know that I'm not going to do a goddamn thing and just let the movie fade from my consciousness.
Ugh, still didn't get to a real question for you. Okay. One, do you feel like Children of Men was designed to elicit hope? Two, could it elicit hope or is that putting too much faith in the power of film? Three, what lessons from Prisoner of Azkaban did Alfonso Cuarón learn and apply in Children of Men?
Don't answer that last one just yet. We'll get to it. I dunno, maybe just tell me your thoughts about this movie and we'll see where it goes from there.
Sunny: Glad to hear you enjoyed it! Like you say, the whole thing has enough weight and tension to really give you a solid gut-punch and just be a fun experience.
I first saw it in theaters in 2006 and had that feeling of a fun experience, mainly. Great acting and visuals set in a post-apocalyptic world with extremely brisk pacing made for a delightful Saturday evening. It wasn't until the chewing up after the fact that I also started to think about the themes you're mentioning. It's funny to think about it in the context of Brexit/trumpism, with immigrants in cages and all that—it's too on the nose. But back in 2006, it had a different context. It's still as jarring to watch now as in then, with the cinematography and the audio and all that, but fifteen years later, it's a bit less "sci" or "fi."
I share your feeling of general hopelessness for the future. I don't blame the common man—no one on a national stage really talks about the future anymore in a visionary way. We could get into this some other time, but our culture's overfocus on risk and abandonment of a future vision has downward pressure on people's minds. I think that's why this current day feeling of things being not quite right pervades. I was too young to connect with it in 2006, but now I see Theo in Children of Men as the persona of one who's stuck in that hopelessness.
This might have been the best movie I've seen so far on the list. It's only been about an hour since the credits rolled, so maybe that will change as I get comfortable with my thoughts, but first thought was, yeah, fucking great. Probably the only competition so far is Bee Movie. Just kidding. Probably the only competition so far is Brief Encounter. Both movies gave me that particular type of gut-punch that only my favorite movies do. Obviously, the emotions evoked from each film were for wildly different reasons, so much so that I don't even think it's worth going into a "Brief Encounter v. Children of Men" compare/contrast. The only similarity is that they both touched something deep within me.
So primarily I'm interested first in knowing how you felt about this movie when you first saw it. And you can briefly say when you first saw it, and all that.
I'm reading a couple articles online (a lot of them around 2016, when the rise of Brexit/trumpism made the ten-year anniversary of this film feel particularly important, apparently), and most of them touch on the theme of "hope" in this film. Which probably speaks a lot to why I'm feeling the way I do right now (though the technical aspects might have a lot to do with it too, but we'll get to that eventually). There's the whole idea that there's this world without children, and if children traditionally represent "hope in our future," then the inference is that humanity has lost all hope. But there is a reluctant hero in Clive Owen's Theo who is awakened to the possibility of hope as he brings the mother of the first child in eighteen years to safety (we assume!).
And it's had a peculiar impact on me, this film and its theme, and forced me to conclude that that's probably because I am pretty often a cynical pessimist when it comes to the future of our own reality. Late-stage capitalism, global warming, trumpsim, whatever and however you wanna explain it, I just... I just don't usually have a sunny (sorry) outlook on the future, as much as it pains me to say that with two small kids. Like, I remember getting told off by Pam last April when I was saying shit like "well I guess we're all just gonna have to accept the fact that we're all getting COVID eventually" and shit like that, because it was too damn pessimistic. She was right. I am. It's something I don't like about myself, but it's mostly true.
So, I dunno, I guess I'm thinking that maybe I am currently feeling like Theo was at the beginning of the movie, and Children of Men has made me consider what would make me wake up from this fucking stupor.
I've been liking framing these Never Seen It articles as conversations with friends instead of writing on my own because I feel like it gives me the freedom to write whatever comes out of my fingers without thinking, instead of being faced with the prospect of actually constructing a well-thought-out essay.... but the flip side of the coin is that sometimes I end up with emo-soaked dreck that I wrote about. Sorry. Let's try to twist the self-loathing into a legitimate question for you, and then we can get into all the nitty-gritty explosions and blood-spattered camera lenses. Ahem.
Do you feel like a movie has ever had the ability to wake someone from such a stupor? Like, okay, obviously there are connections between the "fugee" situation here and the real-life children-in-cages American atrocity. But what the fuck have I done about that atrocity? Gave $20 to some nonprofit I probably googled? A passive stupor. And I get the sense that Children of Men was designed to maybe be that awakening event, like, "Holy shit I just saw Children of Men and don't want to live in that world and I'm going to take action now!" but then I know that I'm not going to do a goddamn thing and just let the movie fade from my consciousness.
Ugh, still didn't get to a real question for you. Okay. One, do you feel like Children of Men was designed to elicit hope? Two, could it elicit hope or is that putting too much faith in the power of film? Three, what lessons from Prisoner of Azkaban did Alfonso Cuarón learn and apply in Children of Men?
Don't answer that last one just yet. We'll get to it. I dunno, maybe just tell me your thoughts about this movie and we'll see where it goes from there.
Sunny: Glad to hear you enjoyed it! Like you say, the whole thing has enough weight and tension to really give you a solid gut-punch and just be a fun experience.
I first saw it in theaters in 2006 and had that feeling of a fun experience, mainly. Great acting and visuals set in a post-apocalyptic world with extremely brisk pacing made for a delightful Saturday evening. It wasn't until the chewing up after the fact that I also started to think about the themes you're mentioning. It's funny to think about it in the context of Brexit/trumpism, with immigrants in cages and all that—it's too on the nose. But back in 2006, it had a different context. It's still as jarring to watch now as in then, with the cinematography and the audio and all that, but fifteen years later, it's a bit less "sci" or "fi."
I share your feeling of general hopelessness for the future. I don't blame the common man—no one on a national stage really talks about the future anymore in a visionary way. We could get into this some other time, but our culture's overfocus on risk and abandonment of a future vision has downward pressure on people's minds. I think that's why this current day feeling of things being not quite right pervades. I was too young to connect with it in 2006, but now I see Theo in Children of Men as the persona of one who's stuck in that hopelessness.
We're introduced to him sort of swimming along in his life in a way we can relate probably as "decently well off," all things considered, but not good. The alternative is the cousin with the Guernica painting—"Don't think about it"—which isn't satisfying for many. We watch Theo be forcibly shaken out of his stupor (and just how forcibly, thinking of all his few loved ones' fates), and wonder if that's the level we'd need to be shaken out like you ask. It's a good question.
Not sure about Children of Men "waking one from his stupor." Would we be surprised if we heard Bee Movie woke someone out of a stupor? Should we? Because one can reasonably argue Avatar sucks as a movie, should we care less about its anti-colonialization, pro-environmental message? Does art need to be good to be able to deliver a message; and/or do we need to be wary of good art delivering a bad message, whatever that may mean? I ask these rhetorics to draw that the entire calculus of delivering meaning through movies or art generally is viewed through each person's individual lens. Art is powerful in introducing new ideas, reframing old ideas, and commenting on current ideas—but none of these can change core beliefs by themselves. Theo wasn't shaken out of his stupor by watching a movie, so I can't really expect to be either. Would I be able to shake off nearly missing getting bombed getting coffee?
Is Children of Men designed to do that? Probably in part? I certainly get hopeful themes from the movie. At times they even ham it up a bit—the SS Tomorrow, the walking scene where everyone stops fighting for a minute to see the baby—but they earn them well enough. It certainly elicits hope in me, so it's gotta be able to elicit hope on some level. I think it can elicit hope, absolutely, but I don't think art can convert hope into action or prevent the everyday world from boiling off hope with all its tiny wounds, not by itself anyway. I think given the ceiling film has, Children of Men does a great job in eliciting hope (and a range of other pathos) while taking you for a ride on the narrative.
A little magical realism makes everything better.
Not sure about Children of Men "waking one from his stupor." Would we be surprised if we heard Bee Movie woke someone out of a stupor? Should we? Because one can reasonably argue Avatar sucks as a movie, should we care less about its anti-colonialization, pro-environmental message? Does art need to be good to be able to deliver a message; and/or do we need to be wary of good art delivering a bad message, whatever that may mean? I ask these rhetorics to draw that the entire calculus of delivering meaning through movies or art generally is viewed through each person's individual lens. Art is powerful in introducing new ideas, reframing old ideas, and commenting on current ideas—but none of these can change core beliefs by themselves. Theo wasn't shaken out of his stupor by watching a movie, so I can't really expect to be either. Would I be able to shake off nearly missing getting bombed getting coffee?
Is Children of Men designed to do that? Probably in part? I certainly get hopeful themes from the movie. At times they even ham it up a bit—the SS Tomorrow, the walking scene where everyone stops fighting for a minute to see the baby—but they earn them well enough. It certainly elicits hope in me, so it's gotta be able to elicit hope on some level. I think it can elicit hope, absolutely, but I don't think art can convert hope into action or prevent the everyday world from boiling off hope with all its tiny wounds, not by itself anyway. I think given the ceiling film has, Children of Men does a great job in eliciting hope (and a range of other pathos) while taking you for a ride on the narrative.
A little magical realism makes everything better.
Joe: Good call bringing up the cousin who says "I don't think about it." Sometimes I accuse myself of doing that, but I dunno if that's right. I think the problem is more that I do think about it, maybe too much, and yet I can never seem to bring myself to take any sort of meaningful action. I think maybe some small percentage of go-getters are just built for that, and the vast majority of people are complacent, no matter whether they watch shit like Avatar or gold like Children of Men.
I think I got started on that whole line of thought is because Alfonso Cuarón mentioned in at least one interview that he had high expectations for this film's impact on its viewers—that they would be spurred to action—and despite the fact that we as a society are getting closer and closer to the film's 2027, I don't necessarily think that Children of Men, or any movie, could possibly hope to achieve such a goal.
In any case, that's enough of that. Let's talk about Alfonso. He definitely came off like the classic asshole/genius archetype in some of those interviews, the kind of person that is constantly searching for perfection. I'm glad I get to witness that pursuit, and see him get pretty darn close to it, but I'm also glad I'm not charged with getting his coffee in the morning, ya know?
Fascinating filmography. I'll be watching Y Tu Mamá También in some far distant future (due to alphabetical constraints). Roma might be my favorite movie from the past five years. Never saw Gravity but heard good things I guess? And there sits Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I probably saw this movie when it came out but have actively avoided the HP movies since around then. Obviously didn't have the capacity at the time to consider what would make a Cuarón-helmed HP movie different than, like, a Chris Columbus-helmed HP movie, and I don't even have the desire to go back and watch.
So, next thing to consider: How familiar are you with Alfonso Cuarón as a director? What are some of your favorite "Cuarónisms," if there even are any? Are tracking shots considered one? How good were they, right? (Apparently Prisoner of Azkaban has a tracking shot?!) I guess we can tie in the whole idea of "the pursuit of perfection" with these long and obviously difficult-to-shoot takes, how there probably requires a certain amount of audacity to even attempt some of this shit, and Cuarón seems to pull it off pretty successfully.
Sunny: Fascinating. I haven't seen much interviews of Cuarón so I'm unaware of his stated intentions, but sure, it jives. I think like you say though, a movie probably can't achieve such a goal, and most folks are fairly complacent in some sense of the word. And even if the larger We wanted to take meaningful action, would We even know what that was, what it looked like, or what it would look like if meaning was achieved?
I think I got started on that whole line of thought is because Alfonso Cuarón mentioned in at least one interview that he had high expectations for this film's impact on its viewers—that they would be spurred to action—and despite the fact that we as a society are getting closer and closer to the film's 2027, I don't necessarily think that Children of Men, or any movie, could possibly hope to achieve such a goal.
In any case, that's enough of that. Let's talk about Alfonso. He definitely came off like the classic asshole/genius archetype in some of those interviews, the kind of person that is constantly searching for perfection. I'm glad I get to witness that pursuit, and see him get pretty darn close to it, but I'm also glad I'm not charged with getting his coffee in the morning, ya know?
Fascinating filmography. I'll be watching Y Tu Mamá También in some far distant future (due to alphabetical constraints). Roma might be my favorite movie from the past five years. Never saw Gravity but heard good things I guess? And there sits Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I probably saw this movie when it came out but have actively avoided the HP movies since around then. Obviously didn't have the capacity at the time to consider what would make a Cuarón-helmed HP movie different than, like, a Chris Columbus-helmed HP movie, and I don't even have the desire to go back and watch.
So, next thing to consider: How familiar are you with Alfonso Cuarón as a director? What are some of your favorite "Cuarónisms," if there even are any? Are tracking shots considered one? How good were they, right? (Apparently Prisoner of Azkaban has a tracking shot?!) I guess we can tie in the whole idea of "the pursuit of perfection" with these long and obviously difficult-to-shoot takes, how there probably requires a certain amount of audacity to even attempt some of this shit, and Cuarón seems to pull it off pretty successfully.
Sunny: Fascinating. I haven't seen much interviews of Cuarón so I'm unaware of his stated intentions, but sure, it jives. I think like you say though, a movie probably can't achieve such a goal, and most folks are fairly complacent in some sense of the word. And even if the larger We wanted to take meaningful action, would We even know what that was, what it looked like, or what it would look like if meaning was achieved?
I'm naturally mystified, awed, maybe a little jealous, of watching someone in pursuit of such perfection and sometimes really hitting the nail on the head. Still doesn't mean I want to be him or work for him (like you say). One and a half splenders, two creamers. Do it right. But who knows, he might be a sweetheart on set.
I'm not as familiar as I'd maybe like to be with Cuarón's filmography, or am with bigger name directors probably. I haven't seen Y Tu Mamá También, but I like all the other movies you mentioned. Roma of course. Gravity has fair gripes but even as such is ambitious and captivating.
Cuarón was a producer on Pan's Labyrinth, which came out a few months before Children of Men in theaters. I remember seeing that, recognizing the name from Harry Potter, and thinking maybe this dude is heading the Guillermo del Toro route of magical mystical whatever (and all respect to GdT—cameos in AAA video games, Dolby-surround fish sex). And then Children of Men bucked the trend, making it harder to pigeonhole this guy.
And all that is to say I'm still not sure what makes Cuarón Cuarón or what his core mannerisms are. The man clearly loves a long shot/tracking shot, and is willing to go to whatever lengths to get it. Which is awesome. Prisoner of Azkaban uses the long shot, which is baffling in comparison to the first two films. I won't get into HP here (my antipathy for it only grows), but Azkaban still holds as my favorite book and movie of the series. I appreciated its brisk pace and its ability not to talk down to audiences (the difference between a good and bad children's movie imo). In general, I think Cuarón doesn't speak down to audiences, and expects something from an active viewer, ala a David Lynch. For a while I thought the crisp pacing to deliver intensity was his mainstay—Azkaban and CoM both make good use of it and keep you engaged the whole time. But then you have Gravity and Roma, which aren't poorly paced, but certainly not brisk.
So back to the tracking shot. Cuarón is strong at using it in delivering feeling which I can easily remember in HP, CoM, and Gravity. In all three, isolation/loneliness is plaguing the main character on a sub-dialogue level, and long shots are used in each to drive that feeling to the audience. He knows how to use effective camera work to capture people and events at key moments and make you live in them. Think of the crazy mix of emotions Theo is feeling while portraying the world they're in, which is normal for them but abnormal for us, and not being able to have Theo just say how he feels (like he even knows how he feels). Yet those long tracking shots in the car or in the refugee camp wash all over you—enough to make you feel the situation while moving quickly enough to keep you engaged. If nothing else, this Cuarónism is something he's skilled at and something I hope to see more of from him. I wonder what else he'll develop into his "style," or if he'll continue to try to rebuck his previous styles and explore more.
And a complete aside, on the topic of long shots. I find it partly funny that Cuarón, GdT, and Iñárritu (Mr. Long-Shot himself) are Mexican filmmaker buddies. Is it derivative to think of them as a Mexico City "New hollywood" ala Coppola, Spielberg, Scorsese? Yes. Did I already think about it anyway? Yes.
I'm not as familiar as I'd maybe like to be with Cuarón's filmography, or am with bigger name directors probably. I haven't seen Y Tu Mamá También, but I like all the other movies you mentioned. Roma of course. Gravity has fair gripes but even as such is ambitious and captivating.
Cuarón was a producer on Pan's Labyrinth, which came out a few months before Children of Men in theaters. I remember seeing that, recognizing the name from Harry Potter, and thinking maybe this dude is heading the Guillermo del Toro route of magical mystical whatever (and all respect to GdT—cameos in AAA video games, Dolby-surround fish sex). And then Children of Men bucked the trend, making it harder to pigeonhole this guy.
And all that is to say I'm still not sure what makes Cuarón Cuarón or what his core mannerisms are. The man clearly loves a long shot/tracking shot, and is willing to go to whatever lengths to get it. Which is awesome. Prisoner of Azkaban uses the long shot, which is baffling in comparison to the first two films. I won't get into HP here (my antipathy for it only grows), but Azkaban still holds as my favorite book and movie of the series. I appreciated its brisk pace and its ability not to talk down to audiences (the difference between a good and bad children's movie imo). In general, I think Cuarón doesn't speak down to audiences, and expects something from an active viewer, ala a David Lynch. For a while I thought the crisp pacing to deliver intensity was his mainstay—Azkaban and CoM both make good use of it and keep you engaged the whole time. But then you have Gravity and Roma, which aren't poorly paced, but certainly not brisk.
So back to the tracking shot. Cuarón is strong at using it in delivering feeling which I can easily remember in HP, CoM, and Gravity. In all three, isolation/loneliness is plaguing the main character on a sub-dialogue level, and long shots are used in each to drive that feeling to the audience. He knows how to use effective camera work to capture people and events at key moments and make you live in them. Think of the crazy mix of emotions Theo is feeling while portraying the world they're in, which is normal for them but abnormal for us, and not being able to have Theo just say how he feels (like he even knows how he feels). Yet those long tracking shots in the car or in the refugee camp wash all over you—enough to make you feel the situation while moving quickly enough to keep you engaged. If nothing else, this Cuarónism is something he's skilled at and something I hope to see more of from him. I wonder what else he'll develop into his "style," or if he'll continue to try to rebuck his previous styles and explore more.
And a complete aside, on the topic of long shots. I find it partly funny that Cuarón, GdT, and Iñárritu (Mr. Long-Shot himself) are Mexican filmmaker buddies. Is it derivative to think of them as a Mexico City "New hollywood" ala Coppola, Spielberg, Scorsese? Yes. Did I already think about it anyway? Yes.
Joe: I think that's a really good point about how the characters are experiencing isolation and loneliness when these tracking shots happen. It's interesting because that idea kind of runs contrary to how I've always thought about and what I've admired about tracking shots: basically how busy they are.
I think I like them so much because they are one of those rare things that really make me appreciate movie magic, like I can reach out and touch it. And I'm talking purely from a technical standpoint. I don't normally reach the end of any random film scene and say "hmm, the mise-en-scène was really on point there, I appreciated how the cinematographer got the lighting just right" or whatever the fuck. But with tracking shots, I'm admiring it on screen, and I'm admiring during/after the fact what insane lengths it must have taken to get it just right (I had read about the contraption on top of the car for the reverse-driving scene, but I hadn't seen it, so thanks for linking to a pic—fucking crazy!).
And but so I appreciate you pulling me back to its purpose narratively as well, because that's important. How Theo and Julian and the gang are starting to let loose and goof off in the car, and then all of a sudden there is just this massive amount of violence and mayhem surrounding them, how violently that shifts the narrative from protective bubble to danger zone. How Theo is constantly looking for refuge in the refugee camp and then is forced to go out into the world and come face to face with a literal gun battle going on. There is a shift in the action, and, like you said, these tracking shots make you feel that narrative shift, on a visceral level.
Okay, so against my better judgment, I went and googled "prisoner of azkaban tracking shot," and it wasn't as outrageous as one might assume from the idea of a Cuarón tracking shot in a Harry Potter film would be. Basically it's a scene where Mr. Weasley pulls Harry aside and warns him about Sirius Black, and the action in the Leaky Cauldron is continuing around them as they move deeper and deeper in the dark corners of the pub to talk more in secret. But it's a scene I probably appreciate more because of your pointing out that narrative matters too—the scene is to represent how isolated Harry feels now that he knows an alleged murderer is out to get him personally—rather than scoff at the fact that it might not be as technically audacious as, like, the birth scenes in Children of Men and Roma, or the latter's grand camera pans.
I am absolutely holding back on taking the bait re: your overall HP opinion. So much to say about that, but this isn't the place for that! I will resist! But since we're talking about a book-to-Cuarón-helmed-movie-adaptation, I guess this is a good time to note that Children of Men was based on a 1992 novel The Children of Men. Any interest in checking that out based on this movie (or have you already)? I didn't go too deep into that rabbit hole, but apparently they aren't that similar (like: Kee and the baby didn't exist in the novel?).
So we can talk about that. I guess we could also segue into the Oscars from there, since one of its three nominations was for Best Adapted Screenplay. Haven't seen the winner The Departed in a while, and would also rather not beat the Scorsese horse any more than PoYB already has, but I wonder if you think that this was a good award decision? How about Best Cinematography—lost to the aforementioned Pappy McPoyle's Pan's Labyrinth, so you probably have an opinion on this win. Best Editing? Also The Departed. How about the acting? Did any of these performances warrant a nomination? (For what it's worth, I thought Clive Owen did a great job, playing the whole "outwardly stoic and inwardly a fucking wreck" shtick expertly).
Sunny: re: tracking shots, I typically think of them as busy as well (West Wing style), and it's cool that Cuarón is able to use the same tool without leaning on making a busy time scene. In its ability to pull you in, the tracking shot really allows us to admire it during and after. Stuff like framing a shots and mise-en-scène are in part powerful as background or subtext or whatever. Actively noticing them (especially during a first pass, where you're taking in plot and acting, etc.) can be tough. The tracking shot is strong enough to get you even the first watch through.
Yeah, and that, if I had to pin a Cuarón-ism that might be it. Probably most jabronis could put together a decently captivating tracking shot scene with enough time in a vacuum (do a war or a busy stockroom or whatever), but the ability to tie that to narrative inflections is a step above and is pretty captivating in Children of Men.
I think I like them so much because they are one of those rare things that really make me appreciate movie magic, like I can reach out and touch it. And I'm talking purely from a technical standpoint. I don't normally reach the end of any random film scene and say "hmm, the mise-en-scène was really on point there, I appreciated how the cinematographer got the lighting just right" or whatever the fuck. But with tracking shots, I'm admiring it on screen, and I'm admiring during/after the fact what insane lengths it must have taken to get it just right (I had read about the contraption on top of the car for the reverse-driving scene, but I hadn't seen it, so thanks for linking to a pic—fucking crazy!).
And but so I appreciate you pulling me back to its purpose narratively as well, because that's important. How Theo and Julian and the gang are starting to let loose and goof off in the car, and then all of a sudden there is just this massive amount of violence and mayhem surrounding them, how violently that shifts the narrative from protective bubble to danger zone. How Theo is constantly looking for refuge in the refugee camp and then is forced to go out into the world and come face to face with a literal gun battle going on. There is a shift in the action, and, like you said, these tracking shots make you feel that narrative shift, on a visceral level.
Okay, so against my better judgment, I went and googled "prisoner of azkaban tracking shot," and it wasn't as outrageous as one might assume from the idea of a Cuarón tracking shot in a Harry Potter film would be. Basically it's a scene where Mr. Weasley pulls Harry aside and warns him about Sirius Black, and the action in the Leaky Cauldron is continuing around them as they move deeper and deeper in the dark corners of the pub to talk more in secret. But it's a scene I probably appreciate more because of your pointing out that narrative matters too—the scene is to represent how isolated Harry feels now that he knows an alleged murderer is out to get him personally—rather than scoff at the fact that it might not be as technically audacious as, like, the birth scenes in Children of Men and Roma, or the latter's grand camera pans.
I am absolutely holding back on taking the bait re: your overall HP opinion. So much to say about that, but this isn't the place for that! I will resist! But since we're talking about a book-to-Cuarón-helmed-movie-adaptation, I guess this is a good time to note that Children of Men was based on a 1992 novel The Children of Men. Any interest in checking that out based on this movie (or have you already)? I didn't go too deep into that rabbit hole, but apparently they aren't that similar (like: Kee and the baby didn't exist in the novel?).
So we can talk about that. I guess we could also segue into the Oscars from there, since one of its three nominations was for Best Adapted Screenplay. Haven't seen the winner The Departed in a while, and would also rather not beat the Scorsese horse any more than PoYB already has, but I wonder if you think that this was a good award decision? How about Best Cinematography—lost to the aforementioned Pappy McPoyle's Pan's Labyrinth, so you probably have an opinion on this win. Best Editing? Also The Departed. How about the acting? Did any of these performances warrant a nomination? (For what it's worth, I thought Clive Owen did a great job, playing the whole "outwardly stoic and inwardly a fucking wreck" shtick expertly).
Sunny: re: tracking shots, I typically think of them as busy as well (West Wing style), and it's cool that Cuarón is able to use the same tool without leaning on making a busy time scene. In its ability to pull you in, the tracking shot really allows us to admire it during and after. Stuff like framing a shots and mise-en-scène are in part powerful as background or subtext or whatever. Actively noticing them (especially during a first pass, where you're taking in plot and acting, etc.) can be tough. The tracking shot is strong enough to get you even the first watch through.
Yeah, and that, if I had to pin a Cuarón-ism that might be it. Probably most jabronis could put together a decently captivating tracking shot scene with enough time in a vacuum (do a war or a busy stockroom or whatever), but the ability to tie that to narrative inflections is a step above and is pretty captivating in Children of Men.
So you watched the HP tracking shot. It's not crazy audacious, but it works considering the environment it's working in. A light flourish for the kid's movie, and maybe an early flex for Cuarón to try. We'll definitely have to chop it up HP sometime, but like you said, this isn't the place.
I was aware that Children of Men was a novel adaptation, but haven't read it nor is it high on my list. I wiki I think it says Cuarón hasn't read the full thing either? So I dunno.
Yes, let's talk about the Oscars. I mean that's one of those years The Departed came through to wash everything up. I like The Departed, but winning for editing—eh. Not even Children of Men, but over Babel and Blood Diamond too? Adapted screenplay I feel less strongly about, they probably should have just given it to Borat. At the time I was most hurt The Prestige didn't win cinematography that year, but looking back, it's fine. Pan's Labyrinth had great cinematography so I'm pretty happy about it, but it's a tossup. If anything, Pan's was a bit more unique for the time so maybe that gives it the nod. I wasn't surprised at no acting noms. Owen captured that shtick like you said great, Moore was captivating, Caine was great in every scene he was in—they were strong across the ensemble, but maybe no standout? I also am a big fan of the score, but I can't really say if it deserved to be in that list.
Yes, let's talk about the Oscars. I mean that's one of those years The Departed came through to wash everything up. I like The Departed, but winning for editing—eh. Not even Children of Men, but over Babel and Blood Diamond too? Adapted screenplay I feel less strongly about, they probably should have just given it to Borat. At the time I was most hurt The Prestige didn't win cinematography that year, but looking back, it's fine. Pan's Labyrinth had great cinematography so I'm pretty happy about it, but it's a tossup. If anything, Pan's was a bit more unique for the time so maybe that gives it the nod. I wasn't surprised at no acting noms. Owen captured that shtick like you said great, Moore was captivating, Caine was great in every scene he was in—they were strong across the ensemble, but maybe no standout? I also am a big fan of the score, but I can't really say if it deserved to be in that list.
Joe: Since we're talking about awards, I did want to touch on the award show that—in my mind, at least—supersedes the Academy Awards, and that is the Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards. While Children of Men was completely shut out from any wins in 2007, I think it might be important to point out some connections to our conversation and to our world at large anyway. First, the ceremony was hosted by 2021's Pariah-of-the-Week Justin Timberlake, and he also won "Best Male Singer" award, which 1) seems like a conflict of interest, and 2) seems like a very short time after the whole Nipplegate incident, for which J.T. is only now—like, this week—supposedly apologizing for. Next, do you remember who won Best Book that year? You guessed it—Harry Potter. So much for not talking about those books during this conversation. I always want to talk about Miley Cyrus after her controversial appearance in Record Club, and I'm proud to report that she won Best TV Actress in 2007. Pirates of the Caribbean's first sequel won Best Picture, not The Departed (which wasn't even nominated), which means that Titanic remains the only movie in history to win Best Picture at both the Oscars and the NKCAs. (Sidenote: Pam pointed this out to me—apparently Boyz n the Hood was nominated for a Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Award in 1997? WTF?!) I just learned recently that Whoopi Goldberg is the only person in history to hold an ENGOT (Emmy, Nick Kids' Choice, Grammy, Oscar, Tony), though Lin-Manuel Miranda is perilously close, with a chance at nabbing a Nick Kids' Choice Award this current year for Hamilton (he'll just need an Oscar, and he's relatively young; if all that happens, he'll actually have a PENGOT, including his Pulitzer, which probably will still all pale in comparison to his breakout role in The Sopranos). And finally, while Children of Men wasn't even nominated, I was pretty impressed with director Bruce Gowers' tracking shot, a sixteen-minute unbroken shot that saw pretty much every major player in Children of Men slimed: Clive Owens, slimed; Clare-Hope Ashitey, slimed, Pam Ferris, slimed; baby Dylan, slimed; Marichka's dog, slimed.
Sunny: ...
Joe: Let's touch on a couple miscellaneous things, and then we can wrap it up.
First, there was a cool thing that I didn't notice while watching, but was told afterward. Julian has that line where she's like "tinnitus is the ear cells dying, you'll never hear that pitch again." Apparently, Theo's tinnitus comes back whenever an actual major character dies, to signify that you'll... never hear that person again, I guess? Corny movie trick or nah?
Second, I saw somewhere someone comparing this movie to Casablanca, which caught me off guard because I just spent all of last week overthinking Casablanca. But I guess that makes sense, from a plot standpoint (people trying to escape to safety, using any means necessary, etc.)? I also saw Cuarón (I think it was him... maybe it was the cinematographer or something) call Children of Men the "anti-Blade Runner," which I thought you would like, being a BR fan. I think they mostly meant aesthetically (no sci-fi clothing or whatever), but I think it might be interesting contrasting the two movies thematically as well.
Finally, is there anything else you wanna talk about that we haven't already? Any interesting Sunny thoughts you'd like to share?
Sunny: I didn't notice the tinnitus either—thanks for pointing it out. My first thought was "Neat", so it can't be 100% corny movie trick imo. Or even if it is, let's remember that plenty of great stuff requires a touch of cringe.
Casablanca is an interesting comparison because the movies are so visually different, but the plot links are definitely there. Even set back in times where a plurality of people would think the world's going to end soon, to differing degrees.
"Anti-Blade Runner" is an odd moniker. I see the aesthetic angle. Children of Men is very visually dry on sci-fi bullshit.
I think this works well for the movie—much of the time (like in Theo's apartment or temp living, I forget exactly), it basically looks like a slightly drearier now (er, 2006) for Theo's day-to-day life. Yes, he's in the last "stable country," but we as Theo don't see that until we're forced to. You could forget that the movie is set "20 years in the future". It's not like they forgot—little details such as the HUD in the cars show that technology has advanced. Much in the way of our society! With advancements on how many screens you have and how big or small they are and where they can be stuck, but quiet anxieties of health and security and safety continue to mount.
First, there was a cool thing that I didn't notice while watching, but was told afterward. Julian has that line where she's like "tinnitus is the ear cells dying, you'll never hear that pitch again." Apparently, Theo's tinnitus comes back whenever an actual major character dies, to signify that you'll... never hear that person again, I guess? Corny movie trick or nah?
Second, I saw somewhere someone comparing this movie to Casablanca, which caught me off guard because I just spent all of last week overthinking Casablanca. But I guess that makes sense, from a plot standpoint (people trying to escape to safety, using any means necessary, etc.)? I also saw Cuarón (I think it was him... maybe it was the cinematographer or something) call Children of Men the "anti-Blade Runner," which I thought you would like, being a BR fan. I think they mostly meant aesthetically (no sci-fi clothing or whatever), but I think it might be interesting contrasting the two movies thematically as well.
Finally, is there anything else you wanna talk about that we haven't already? Any interesting Sunny thoughts you'd like to share?
Sunny: I didn't notice the tinnitus either—thanks for pointing it out. My first thought was "Neat", so it can't be 100% corny movie trick imo. Or even if it is, let's remember that plenty of great stuff requires a touch of cringe.
Casablanca is an interesting comparison because the movies are so visually different, but the plot links are definitely there. Even set back in times where a plurality of people would think the world's going to end soon, to differing degrees.
"Anti-Blade Runner" is an odd moniker. I see the aesthetic angle. Children of Men is very visually dry on sci-fi bullshit.
I think this works well for the movie—much of the time (like in Theo's apartment or temp living, I forget exactly), it basically looks like a slightly drearier now (er, 2006) for Theo's day-to-day life. Yes, he's in the last "stable country," but we as Theo don't see that until we're forced to. You could forget that the movie is set "20 years in the future". It's not like they forgot—little details such as the HUD in the cars show that technology has advanced. Much in the way of our society! With advancements on how many screens you have and how big or small they are and where they can be stuck, but quiet anxieties of health and security and safety continue to mount.
And to that end, Children of Men achieves one of the two important sci-fi goals. You can either show me a radically different future, present, or past and press my morals, intellect, and conceptions against it to test an idea, where having a healthy dose of sci-fi bullshit is helpful to draw the illusion. Or you can show me our world, but just different enough that the typical normalization process doesn't mask how different it is, and test an idea (what if we have no future? can anything wake us out of stupor? is hope worthwhile?). To that end, Children of Men is absolute master class. It allows civilians/philistines to enjoy sci-fi without having to sit through hours of sci-fi bullshit ala Blade Runner, 2049, Metropolis, Solaris.
Blade Runner to me is towards the other pole—it's 2019, so set 37 years future (double relative to CoM), but the world is wildly different vis-à-vis technologically (for the better or worse is another question). Having full-on cyborgs and cyborg hunters and having the movie be about that lends itself to ask questions about what it means to be human, generally, whereas Children of Men can better ask a question about what it means to be human if you're someone like Theo, in a world that's like Theo's.
Not much else I wanted to talk about, just the sci-fi bullshit stuff, so thanks for teeing that up. Oh also if you saw this.
Blade Runner to me is towards the other pole—it's 2019, so set 37 years future (double relative to CoM), but the world is wildly different vis-à-vis technologically (for the better or worse is another question). Having full-on cyborgs and cyborg hunters and having the movie be about that lends itself to ask questions about what it means to be human, generally, whereas Children of Men can better ask a question about what it means to be human if you're someone like Theo, in a world that's like Theo's.
Not much else I wanted to talk about, just the sci-fi bullshit stuff, so thanks for teeing that up. Oh also if you saw this.
~~~~~~~~~~
GRADE: 5 pukes out of 5
NEXT TIME: What's up with Chinatown? (No idea, that's all I got for you.)
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