B

As apocalypse movies go, “Children of Men” is a fine specimen with an excellent pedigree. It’s based on a novel by P.D. James, best known for crime novels but ones of high quality. It’s directed by Alfonso Cuaron, who exhibited both his skill and his versatility with “A Little Princess” and “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” as well as “Y tu mam< tambiJn.” It boasts a imaginatively stark production design by Jim Clay and Geoffrey Kirkland, and cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki that’s both suitably gritty and, in the action moments, remarkably compelling. In most every respect it’s superior to such varied end-of-the-world fare as “28 Days Later” and “V for Vendetta,” coming across as far more intelligent and perceptive. Why, then, does it seem only a middling success? One reason is that the setting, in 2027 Britain, is only partially sketched in, and the reason behind the socio-political crisis the nation faces never adequately explained. We’re simply plopped into a situation in which most of the world is in chaos, and only Britain has survived, to some extent at least—it’s depicted as a crypto-fascist state awash in illegal immigrants (who are rounded up and caged for deportation), and beset by constant terrorist agitation. The ultimate cause behind the disintegration of civilization, it seems, is the fact that the human race has suffered from a plague of infertility for nearly two decades and is effectively dying out as a result of the inexplicable malady. Precisely how things came to such a pass is a matter of conjecture; viewers must simply take the unhappy reality that Cuaron and co-scripter Timothy J. Sexton present as the credible conclusion to contemporary problems, and the childlessness of humanity as, in effect, a metaphor for any disaster that might mean the end of the species. That’s not a fully satisfying way of setting the narrative stage. But the essence of “Children of Men” lies not in the background but a narrative in which Theo Faron (Clive Owen), a government clerk, is unwillingly drawn into an underground plot that eventually makes him the key to the potential salvation of humanity. Having survived a terrorist bomb attack, he’s kidnapped by a shadowy group called the Fishes that just happen to be headed by his former girlfriend (and erstwhile fellow activist) Julian (Julianne Moore), with whom—we learn—he had a child whose death threw him into depression. She asks him to use his contacts with a cousin (Danny Huston) in the government to secure transit papers for an illegal named Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey) so that they can get her past checkpoints to safety. The reason for the Fishes’ actions quickly become clear when it’s revealed Kee is pregnant—the first woman known to be in that condition for some eighteen years. Since she’s an illegal, the government would probably dispose of her if they were to find out. But the Fishes, it’s eventually made clear, intend to use her for their purposes, too. Since no one’s hands are clean in the business, Theo takes it upon himself to try to get her to a group called The Human Project, a scientific organization that—if not a myth—is involved in experiments to cure the epidemic of infertility. The attempt to escape both the police and the guerrillas takes the two into some of the most dangerous parts of England, including urban areas that have been converted into burned-out detention camps. In the simplest narrative terms “Children of Men” has a good deal in common with the “Logan’s Run”-“The Island” template, but it studiously avoid those movies’ futuristic slickness. Cuaron’s is gritty, down-and-dirty filmmaking that aims to create the authentic feel of a society gone completely to seed. And in that respect his picture succeeds in spades. The ambiance is dank and oppressive, the feeling of hopelessness and oppression palpable. But within this acutely rendered environment, the human element is mostly lacking. Owen’s characteristic inexpressiveness may suit the drab side of Theo, but it doesn’t make him any easier to identify with, and his relationship with Moore’s Julian—which is short-lived anyway—never catches fire. And while Ashitey is more vivid, and her connection with Owen grows warmer as the story proceeds, the only major cast member likely to make a real emotional impact is Michael Caine, as an aging hippie whose secret rural home Faron regularly repairs to for rejuvenation. With long hair, an engaging smile and a stream of good dialogue, Caine perfectly embodies the humane qualities that the society of 2027 has lost. There are also amusing cameos from Peter Mullan, as a larcenous border guard, and Huston, as the bureaucrat who spends most of his time at home enjoying his artwork and Handel’s music while putting up with an obstreperous son; but they provide what are little more than grace notes to the major theme. And that theme remains a grim and downbeat one that even the half-hopeful moments of an ambiguous ending can’t significantly alleviate. “Children of Men” is certainly an effective portrait of a gloomy future, with several scenes (a mid-town explosion, a horrifying assault on a group of passengers in a car, a terrifying foot chase through a blighted part of the urban landscape that’s become a virtual war zone) that are superbly rendered. But though in terms of atmosphere it’s a gripping exercise in modern Orwellianism, it’s less well realized in human terms. And that’s why Cuaron’s technically masterful vision of societal collapse remains enormously impressive, but one of those films it’s easier to admire from a respectful distance than to embrace wholeheartedly.