Trailer de "The Children of Men"

Primeiro review. Bastante positivo:

Since his debut in 1995 with The Little Princess, director Alfonso Cuarón has sluttily bed-hopped genres like the happiest hooker in Hollywood, desperately hoping to avoid the STD of typecasting. He’s made kids’ films (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, as well as the aforementioned Princess), a Dickens adaptation (Great Expectations), and a sex comedy (the sublime Y Tu Mamá También). Now he’s following in the footsteps of Kubrick, Carpenter and Gilliam with this, his cacotopian future shock flick.
It’s the year 2027. Mankind has become infertile and, unable to create new life, people have turned on each other. Schools have fallen into disrepair, blocks of flats burn, and in an early montage of newsreel images, we see atomic mushroom clouds over New York. Britain has become a fascistic wonderland, closing its borders and escorting all immigrants (or “fugees” as they’re called) into de-humanising Abu Ghraib-style prisons. We’re introduced to this world through the eyes of Theo Faron (Clive Owen), an alcoholic bureaucrat, whose activist past catches up with him when an old flame asks for his help escorting a woman to the coast. Initially Theo is only in it for the money, until he realises what’s at stake: the woman is pregnant.
While the story (taken from a PD James novel) is perhaps slight, the execution really dazzles: every single frame of this movie is soaked in visual paraffin, and it’s impossible to take everything in on a first viewing. It’s not just the production design that impresses either, as Cuarón manages to casually trot out a new trick pony every few minutes. Remember that shot in Spielberg’s War of the Worlds where the camera zoomed in and around the Cruiser’s car? Cuarón pulls off several seemingly one-take setpieces that are just as seamlessly stitched together, but far less obvious, leaving you agog when you realise what you’ve just witnessed. He also proves he can shoot the hell out of a suspense sequence, staging several tense escapes from pursuers that’ll have you tearing out your cuticles with your teeth. The final act features a sustained assault on a British seaside town, and it’s chilling seeing Brighton looking like war-torn Baghdad.
But despite all the slam-bam pyrotechnics, it’s the quiet moments that really impress, with subtle performances from the entire ensemble cast, including an immensely likeable and wholly convincing turn from Michael Caine as a hippy-ish toker. It’s a movie about awaking to the world around you; Owen’s character transforms as his long-dormant fire begins to burn again – though, interestingly, he manages to become a credible action hero without ever raising a gun or throwing a punch.
Like all good futurism, Children of Men reflects our current situation in a tarnished mirror, showing a possible endgame scenario that seems frighteningly plausible. Making the shocking imagery of the first act seem so mundane is a masterstroke, and perhaps the most frightening aspect of the film is that we could become so apathetic as to let this BNP fantasy become a reality.
This is filmmaking at its highest level. Cuarón has managed to create an intelligent thriller that actually thrills, and a deeply moving SF film filled with humanity, set in a hopeless world where the cry of a baby could be the most devastating weapon of all.