Children of Men

England, 2027: this green and pleasant land is now a dirty dystopia in which humanity has become infertile and its childless society is crumbling as refugees and terrorists fight the fascist powers that be. Submerged in this chaos is alcoholic former activist-turned-bureaucrat Theo Faron (Clive Owen), who watches in despair from the sidelines until a surprise visit from an ex-lover (Julianne Moore) offers him an unlikely glimmer of hope. Mexican director Alfonso Cuarón (Y Tu Mamá También) here delivers a truly startling take on PD James's downbeat novel, reworking its apocalyptic theme through the cracked prism of the post-9/11 era. Owen is excellent and there's a glorious turn from Michael Caine as an ageing, pot-smoking ex-political cartoonist. But it's Cuarón's film: his hand-held camerawork apeing news broadcasts as it records nerve-shredding action set pieces in tense, unbroken shots. True, the proceedings are occasionally marred by a surfeit of plot exposition, yet the stark triumph of Children of Men lies in how its visceral vérité style brings the realities of a War on Terror fought in distant lands crashing back onto British soil.