Tagline: In 20 years. Women are fertile. No Children. No Future. No Hope. But all that can change in a heartbeat.
Earth, 2027: Hope for the future has become a dwindling resource. It has been nearly 19 years since the last baby was born, and with each passing year of inexplicable, global childlessness, mankind edges closer to giving up all claims to a future. While most people choose to embrace the inevitable and descend into separatism, lawlessness and nihilism, others fight on for a unified planet and the rights of the dwindling populations.
Great Britain is the one country that has managed -through a policy of militaristic imperialism- to survive the ever-increasing internal strife and, in turn, is seeing a tremendous influx of illegal refugees landing on its shores. But with a firm, totalitarian hand, these “fugees” are herded into detainment camps and deported.
For Theo (Clive Owen), all of this matters little, having allowed himself to settle into a state of numbness. The former activist turned bureaucrat has steeled himself against his painful past and the reality of a senseless future by simply ceasing to care. His existence is enlivened only by visits to his old friend Jasper (Michael Caine), who lives in the remote countryside miles from London. There, they remember happier times as comrades-in-arms, activists who once took up against the coming tide but now find themselves checked out from a society that no longer provides any answers.
All of that abruptly changes when Theo finds himself thrown in the back of a van and brought before Julian (Julianne Moore). Once his partner in both love and war, she is now the head of a covert group fighting for the rights of the remaining refugee population. Julian has surfaced long enough to ask for a favor—for Theo to obtain transit papers for Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey), a young woman within her organization who must be seen safely out of the country.
Theo agrees—for Julian’s sake, and for the 5,000 pounds he’ll collect—and soon finds himself accompanying Kee and a handful of Julian’s comrades on a treacherous journey past several security checkpoints to the coast. There, members of the nearmythic Human Project—some of the greatest minds of the world working toward a new society—are prepared to help them. But when Theo’s group is set upon by terrorists, it quickly becomes clear that the streetwise Kee is more than just a refugee…she is someone others are willing to die for.
She is, in fact, eight months pregnant and now stands as the miracle the whole planet has been waiting and hoping for. In their race to sanctuary from both anarchists who will risk everything for a cause and those who would use her child for political gain, Kee and Theo become the unlikely champions of a future generation.
About the Production
For filmmaker Alfonso Cuarón, it seems that no story is beyond his cinematic telling: a biting social commentary, a noirish crime drama, a beloved children’s classic, a modernist retelling of Dickens, an insightful road comedy, a blockbuster magical tale.
All of his filmic efforts bear the unmistakable imprint of a craftsman utilizing every tool within the medium to realize the story on the screen. Each of them, in some way, tells the world a little bit about who “Alfonso Cuarón” is. So it is no surprise that his latest effort—the motion picture adaptation of esteemed British mystery writer P.D. James’ somewhat downbeat novel The Children of Men—also carries something of the Mexican-born auteur: hope.
The director admits, “When I make a film, it is from my standpoint—so the fact that I am a hopeful person ‘taints’ this film. Humanity has an amazing talent for destruction. But also, we can show solidarity and an ability to come through problems together. In the end, Children of Men isn’t so much about humanity being destructive— it’s more about ideologies coming between people’s judgment and their actions that is at work in this story.”
The publication of James’ book first came to the attention of producer Hilary Shor, who was taken with the stylistic departure for the author (famed for her crime writing, the book is decidedly science-fiction) and optioned the material for the screen nine years ago, having just set up the production company Hit and Run Productions.
“Propitiously,” Shor says, “it was really the first magical piece of material that I optioned. It’s obviously been a long time coming, but it’s been nine marvelous years bringing this project to fruition.”
Producer Marc Abraham of Strike Entertainment was also a fan of the book—a colleague had brought Abraham a copy and suggested that the story might play well as a motion picture. Abraham agreed and looked into adapting the book. Informed that the rights had already been secured, Abraham met with Shor and, realizing both shared a passion to bring The Children of Men to the screen, they committed to working together on the project. The project experienced waxing and waning periods of activity, but it finally started to gel when Oscar-nominated filmmaker Cuarón showed interest in it.
“Alfonso is a uniquely talented director. His passion is undeniable and his vision inspiring. His involvement reinvigorated all of us,” supplies Abraham. Cuarón had been given an early draft of a screenplay, but had barely turned past the first few pages. Later, while on vacation—in a place perhaps the antithesis of the inclement setting of The Children of Men—his thoughts returned to the project. Cuarón recalls, “I initially didn’t connect with the script, but there was a premise there that haunted me for the next couple of weeks. I remember being in Santa Barbara on the beach and suddenly seeing the whole film right there, in front of my eyes.”
Never interested in the techno-fests that usually fall under the header of either “science-fiction” or “futurism,” Alfonso was compelled to create a vision wholly grounded in the promises and the problems facing the citizens of today. He continues, “I found this premise was an amazing opportunity to talk about the present day, using the excuse that it’s set in the ‘near future.’ I didn’t want to do a film about the future—I wanted to do a film about the present, and the circumstances today that are crafting our future.” He quickly adds, “This isn’t science-fiction—it’s a chase movie, set in 2027.”
Cuarón approached his writing partner, Timothy J. Sexton, and related the story of the film he had envisioned on the beach. Together, they intensified the novelist’s view of a bleak and dystopic world of the near future into one in which people we are given a reason to believe again…taking James’ concept of global infertility and streamlining the book into a filmable screenplay.
At the time, author James had cast her tale 30 years into the future, giving readers a more comfortable distance from which to view the alarming vision of mankind’s possible end. The screenwriters narrowed this window to 21 years, bringing the harrowing “what if?” ever closer to the world of today. Children of Men is recognizable from the signposts of our current times, now nearly swallowed by a near-future world slowly coming apart in 2027.
Having become involved with the project early in 2001, Cuarón was also preoccupied with telling a story of relevance to the newly arrived 21st century. For him, many “futuristic” projects usually predict a world led by some kind of dictatorship, but he found a different kind of tyranny in the world he and Sexton were envisioning: “Many of the stories of the future involve something like ‘Big Brother,’ but I think that’s a 20thcentury view of tyranny. The tyranny happening now is taking new disguises—the tyranny of the 21st century is called ‘democracy.’ I found that a very interesting concept to look at in Children of Men.”
In his and Sexton’s informal research—questioning a wide range of people on what they feel is shaping our world—two elements were at the forefront of many replies: one, the massive global migration of the world’s population and the firestorm of political positioning around the shifts (figures support that the migrations of the last 10 years are the largest the planet has ever seen), and two, the ripple effect from and the backlash against the more than 300 years of colonialism. These current circumstances—when combined with such additional conditions as continental pandemics, rising international terrorism and global changes in weather patterns—are indeed flags that could signify a near future like the one conjectured in Children of Men.
Certainly, to Cuarón and Sexton, their world of tomorrow is rooted in the very real world of today. So, they took their ideas and themes and created a scenario timeline of the world events that had led up to the beginning of their screenplay: London on November 16, 2027. What results is a cautionary story that takes place—both in a poetic and a literal sense—“the day after tomorrow.”
As to whether or not the vision of the future as presented in Children of Men is bleak or hopeful? Its writer-director sees the film as a mirror that reflects the mindset of the viewers taking in the story. He offers, “When we were creating our fictitious timeline leading up to the film’s beginning, some of the things we included in our history actually started happening—we’d turn on the television and see images that we had included in our film, supposedly 21 years down the line. But, I don’t want to give people any ideas or easy answers to any questions…rather, I want to raise some questions for people to think about. So really, the movie is as hopeful about the future as you are.”
Casting the Children of the Future
At the heart of Children of Men are the hot-button issues of immigration, environment and fertility. In the world of the film, each has adversely affected the other, setting most men on a dark march toward “the end.” Once at the forefront of hoped-for change, burned-out activist Theo has resigned himself to fitting into a harsh society with little foreseeable chance of survival. Hope is an unaffordable luxury that merely brings heartache.
But all that changes when Theo’s former lover, Julian, re-emerges with a request, which pulls Theo out of his self-medicated haze and back into a life of having to care about something…and that something is the future of mankind.
Abraham says, “I have always loved the reluctant antihero; they were the staple of the ’70s films that inspired me. The fact that a burnt-out Theo has to protect someone— who is the first pregnant woman on the planet in nearly 20 years—is a clear, concise and obviously dramatic idea. Alfonso has added to this premise themes that are relevant and current.”
Cuarón refers to Theo as “someone who’s fighting to stay dead, a character who’s given up on his journey.” But instead of revealing all of who Theo is up-front, the filmmaker chooses to throw the antihero into increasingly dire situations that erode away his years of uncaring and reinvigorate the activist fighting for a cause. Just as Kee is giving birth to the next generation, the battle to protect her is giving Theo a second chance—and helps him to find his passion to care again.
British leading man Clive Owen, cast in the role of Theo, was quickly drawn to the story, the role and working with Cuarón. Owen states, “Alfonso’s work is visually stunning, and he’s one of the very few directors who is in absolutely every wardrobe meeting, every makeup meeting and every props meeting. When something is produced and it’s not quite right or in keeping with his vision, it’s gone. Alfonso came to London and we sat down and talked about the film—and I just felt it was a strong, bold and unusual take on this slightly futuristic story. A lot of people were misled into thinking it was a sci-fi story, but then I read the script and found out it was a very different kind of animal. Alfonso had taken the original premise of the book and led it into very unusual areas.”
It was apparent to Owen when he first read the script that the writer-director was trying to create an unusual kind of hero: a flawed human character who is dragged into this extraordinary situation. This became apparent when confronted with one particular sequence. Owen explains, “Alfonso is the only director I know who would put their ‘hero’ in flip-flops for a whole portion of the movie just to take the attention away from the classic notion of heroism. He wanted an ordinary guy in an extraordinary situation, but to make you really believe it, he kept pulling the rug from under Theo’s feet.”
Cuarón offers his take on Owen’s character: “Theo is a wounded soul—all of his cynicism is nothing but a mask for something more genuine that hides just beneath. At the start, he’s a passive character who is part of the problem. And he acts for a lot of the wrong reasons. But he becomes a reluctant hero. He is re-awakened to possibility that man has a newfound chance of survival.”
Referring to Owen, producer Abraham says, “When you shoot a movie for some 80-odd days in the U.K. in the winter—and every one of those days you are at the center of the storm—that is a hell of a challenge. We knew the shoot would be taxing, but Clive was more than up to it. He is a naturally gifted, totally committed and, thank God, he also has a great sense of humor.”
To play the part of committed activist Julian, filmmakers cast versatile actor Julianne Moore in the part. Moore comments, “What was interesting for me about Julian first and foremost was that she was a woman who is the leader of this activist group. It’s rare, even in modern films, to see a woman in charge of a radical group.”
Through the lens of Julian, the audience really begins to see Theo—who he was and ultimately how he can be. Unlike Theo, Julian has maintained her dedication to a cause that brought them together years ago, while Theo has given up and faced the “inevitable” end. In her role, Julian is trying to ensure equal rights for every immigrant in Britain; such a contrary agenda renders the activist group “terrorists” in the eyes of the government and Julian a wanted criminal.
Whatever the flashier aspects of her character, Moore was attracted to the script primarily because of Cuarón’s attachment to the project. She comments, “I think he’s extraordinary. He has a tremendous imagination and a keen sense of how to tell a story visually. On this film, we sometimes worked with very little lighting, using a lot of handheld or a steadicam—almost like an independent film. I think that adds a sense of the visceral. It’s a somewhat dark story to tell, but it is also illuminated, in the end, with hope.”
Whether or not Cuarón agrees with Julian’s particular reasons for challenging the country’s stance on treatment of refugees, he does address her ideals in his unique way when he says, “I’ve seen those beautiful photographs of Earth taken from outer space, and you see clouds and you see the shape of continents…but what you don’t see are the colors of each countries you see in maps. These invisible lines are created by ideologies, sometimes absurd ones—I have to ask what right do we have to close the door on people that are in need? These complex issues are being thought about in America and Europe, and looked at very differently—how are immigrants, refugees, asylum seekers going to be treated? This is something happening now—the near future is now. I think all of us working on the film thought that you have to get the human experience to get to the social and political—it’s something that needs compassion more than an ideology.”
Prolific actor Michael Caine assumes the role of Jasper, Theo’s oldest friend and confidante who still maintains an activist’s stance on many of the issues now past Theo’s caring. Jasper’s a rebel against the system—an aging hippie and political cartoonist who now makes his living by selling homegrown Cannabis sativa. While a secondary role, Jasper was attractive to Caine, again, because of the man at the helm of the film. He explains, “I wanted to meet the man who named his film Y tu mamá también, which is a Mexican curse, nothing to do with your mother. Alfonso was wonderful, and I hadn’t done a role quite like Jasper. I work for fun and profit now—I’ve got the profit part sorted out, and now I’m working on the fun…and this is fun.”
Cuarón explains, “I feel that Jasper, especially as Michael plays him, is the moral center of the film. His scenes have a warmth that is missing from most of the other characters’ lives. He hasn’t given up—he’s struggling to keep that spark of life.”
While it creates dynamic screen pairings to place Owen opposite Moore or Caine, most of the lead actor’s screen time is spent with a relative newcomer: 19-year-old Londoner Clare-Hope Ashitey, who won the role of Kee after a huge search instigated by the film’s casting agents.
In 2004, Ashitey landed her first major role as a 14-year-old Tutsi refugee named Marie in Shooting Dogs, but from the age of 12 attended the Centre Stage School of Performing Arts in Southgate, London. Her experiences during this time saw her playing diverse and challenging roles onstage in plays such as Simon Bent’s Shelter.
Like the character of Theo, Kee isn’t all she appears to be at the beginning of the film. Ashitey comments, “When Kee starts coming out of herself, it becomes clear that there are more layers to her character than you would have expected. When we first see her, she’s sullen and doesn’t give much away. As time goes on, we see that she’s mischievous and quite needy, but is also rebellious and has a little bit of an attitude—not exactly the vision of a girl who holds the hope of the future in her hands, right? Along the way, a father-daughter relationship grows between Theo and Kee.”
Despite not having a lengthy film acting resume, Ashitey proved a worthy onscreen partner to her more-seasoned cast mates. She says, “It’s amazing—I’ve met so many people on this movie that are really wonderful to work with and really great people. It was quite daunting at times just being on set with so many people who are great at what they do. It has been a challenge for me to get my tongue and head around Kee’s [African] accent, especially being across from actors like Clive and Julianne and Michael. I can tell you it’s been a steep learning curve for me!”
The producers of Children of Men confess to throwing a very wide net to cast the character of Luke, second-in-command to Julian and, after a long search, “Chiwetel [Ejiofor] just rose to the top—he’s a great actor and his casting of Luke was just a revelation,” notes producer Eric Newman.
The director chimes in, “When Chiwetel and I discussed the character of Luke, we hit on very similar ideas, and he nailed it in his last speech—it’s about dignity. One of the first things to go during human conflict is dignity—once that goes, it’s very hard to negotiate. And that’s exactly what he feels has happened to his group, which is what fuels his actions.”
Ejiofor himself adds, “I thought the cast that was coming together was really extraordinary, and as soon as I knew it was Alfonso’s script, it was another massive incentive. It wasn’t hard for me to agree to play the role. I’ve seen so many of Alfonso’s films and been so thoroughly impressed by his style and what he has created.”
Charlie Hunnam plays Patric, another member of Julian’s organization, who is one of the most temperamental and passionate characters in the story—he embodies the anger of the country’s last generation now faced with a bleak future. Hunnam comments, “Patric is a truly horrible bastard. He has a good heart but a soldier’s aggression, and I think he’s misunderstood. Instead of seeking help and trying to look for some kind of positive outlet, Patric just hurts people instead. It’s an easy choice to play a villain onedimensionally, but it makes it interesting and real if you’re going to try and make the audience feel sorry for you and understand what your motivation is for being so horrible.”
Hunnam initially pursued a larger part in the movie, but was considered too young. Cuarón, impressed with the young British actor, ended up offering him the part of Patric, and he jumped at the chance to have the opportunity to work with such a team headed by the writer-director. “I just think it’s smarter to work on the quality projects, no matter the size of the role. I decided to do Children of Men, even though it meant turning down the lead in another project, because I think Alfonso is a genius and I believed he was going to make a film that we could all be very, very proud of. If you look at some of his early work, he’s just clearly a master at what he does. You can learn so much from working with someone like him.”
“Britain Soldiers On”: Filming Tomorrow in the London of Today
Cuarón was adamant that he wanted to shoot the film in the U.K. Because of his work on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, he had spent time in England and had come away with high opinions of the quality of the crews and filmmakers in the country. From a producer’s point of view, Abraham comments, “From the beginning, we had promised P.D. James that the film would retain its U.K. setting, and in the end it seemed to make the most sense to shoot it there.”
Shooting and Cameras
Cuarón made the conscious decision early on to shoot as many long sequences as he could in Children of Men, removing some of the rhythmic, artificial cuts associated with current cinema and allowing for a more realistic, cinéma vérité style—“to squeeze the frame to the last of its potential…to hold the frame until there’s nothing else we can tell in that frame and, all the time, following Theo’s perception,” he offers.
To achieve this, he utilized wide lenses and a roving “curious” camera in an attempt to elicit an emotional response to the characters being portrayed in a certain space at just the right time. This meant a higher level of choreography from cast and crew to orchestrate these difficult, lengthy, near-documentary takes. More rehearsal time was taken during production to prepare for the more intricate shots, in order to maximize time within the restrictions of location shooting. In the end, these longer takes (Cuarón reasoned) would cut down on the time spent in editing, with the seamless look he wanted already begun by the cinematography. The overall goal: Keep the audience in the film and plugged into the drama of Theo’s journey.
To achieve Cuarón’s desired look, camera operator George Richmond shot for 16 weeks with a handheld camera. The resulting shots are tactilely real, giving a feeling of being in the moment while following Theo on his turbulent journey. Lubezki offers, “The camera almost became another person on set—a curious, inquisitive person who follows our main character and, at times, becomes very nervous and edgy. This puts the audience in the environment and gives them a sense of ‘real’ time.”
This is never more evident than in one of the longest, most action-filled sequences toward the end of the film, when “we follow characters through the streets in the midst of battles into this apartment building, being shelled from the outside by the army with freedom fighters shooting back from inside. And we follow room to room, floor to floor, in one single shot. I had this instinct to tell everybody, ‘Don’t worry, we can always cut.’ But everyone—the ADs, the stunt people, the visual effects, the cast, the crew—took it as a crusade and said, ‘No way, we’re not going to cut! We’re going to go all the way through!’” relates Cuarón.
The final sequence took four days of preparation with no cameras rolling. On the fifth day, several failed attempts occurred. Then, just before day’s end, the scene came together, per the director, “better than I could have hoped, because there were little accidents along the way that made it more lively!”
Clare-Hope Ashitey recalls, “Alfonso tends to build up his scenes in layers, and between each shot and each take, he’ll add comments, which really help you to layer your performance. Soon, he’s created something so different from what you started with.”
The look and style of the film was another one of the elements that attracted Caine to the project: “So it’s 2027, and these futuristic films tend to be expensivelooking and slick, but ours is dirty and shadowy. They usually put dolly tracks down, but our film was shot using handheld, so it looks something like a newsreel. That was the final thing that swayed me to do it. I actually thought, ‘Aha, here’s a director who’s actually thinking!’”
Some of the takes involved in the long sequence of shots could only work during certain times on any given day. Producer Abraham says, “It’s been difficult shooting in the U.K. in the middle of winter, because you have a limited amount of time where there’s enough light to expose the film.”
Every detail of a shot was diligently prepared prior to a take, which didn’t leave much room for mistakes. But, says Owen, “We had an amazing camera operator who literally, from day one, put the camera in incredible positions. He did extraordinary things, and all by hand—it gives you a constant feeling that you’re present in the environment.”
For some of the very challenging shots desired—in particular, a 12-minute sequence of dialogue and action filmed from within a car carrying five passengers—the creative minds behind the cameras were required to develop some made-to-order technology. The result was an invention affectionately referred to as “the contraption,” which was a rig that allowed the camera to move around the interior of the car without the passengers getting in the way, with the final, seemingly continuous shot appearing as if there are no internal cuts. While the integral components of the contraption had been previously utilized separately, they had never all been assembled for use simultaneously.
Frank Buono (from the U.S.-based company Doggie Cam) was one of the masterminds—along with Cuarón and Lubezki—behind the contraption. He explains, “The rig allows for the camera to be put anywhere inside the car and be able to look around 360° out of the window…and never see any rigging or be bothered by any obstructions. It was built on a platform that was especially made so that it can be driven forwards and backwards by stunt drivers at the same level as a car. The cameraman, director, focus puller and I filmed the shot from an operations station built on top of the rig. We looked a little like the Beverly Hillbillies rolling down the street while we were shooting, but the end product is an incredible piece of film work.”
One of the five actors inside the car was Chiwetel Ejiofor, who offers, “This one shot is captured with one continuous moment…which means our movements and reactions have to be very fluid in terms of what the camera is doing. Our seats are on hinges, so that all the actors get out of the camera’s way as it moves around the inside of the car.”
All who collaborated to create the contraption hope they have come up with something that will continue to be used in filming. Buono continues, “Alfonso has been scratching his head trying to figure out a way to patent this idea, because he’s worried everyone is going to catch on and start using it! He’s incredibly proud of it, as are we all. It kind of feels like we have created a landmark shot on this movie, really, this roller coaster inside a car.”
Location
One of the biggest advantages of filming in the U.K. was the omnipresent and infamous English weather. Usually, such an onslaught of gales, storms and biting winds—and the resulting puddles, mud and overcast skies—proves to be a challenge for filmmakers to overcome. But for a story set in a primarily gray vision of the near future, it was heaven-sent.
But location filming is never without challenges, and filming in and around some of London’s busiest landmarks proved to be quite a task. With security levels higher than usual due to the terrorist bombings in Central London on July 7, 2005, it seemed that the filmmakers might have been somewhat ambitious with their choices of visually appealing locations. However, months of planning and determination paid off, with the production managing to secure an impressive list of actual (and imminently recognizable) locations in the City of London and Westminster—including Trafalgar Square and Queen Elizabeth II’s front garden, St. James’s Park.
Locations department head Michael Sharp explains the process in the simplest of terms when he says, “We started by breaking down all the sequences that we needed to get within our small window of time and then worked our way though each stage. Alfonso was determined from day one to have Admiralty Arch and the Household Cavalry [literally the Queen’s horsemen] in his movie, which meant a long license process…and lots of veterinary tests to get through!”
Once the locations team studied the script and discussed the general guidelines to the various locales, Sharp and his department scouted for a suitable location, taking into consideration all the logistics presented within the day’s shoot. Sharp adds, “Once we settled on the range and the ‘look’ of the film, we had to then try and piece all the locations together into a seamless world of 2027.”
That world, as portrayed in Children of Men, is essentially a world without hope for a majority of England’s inhabitants—there is a marked and deep divide between the haves and the have-nots. For a majority of the film, moviegoers are taken on Theo’s journey through desolate and impoverished communities, with only a few rare glimpses of the wealth displayed on the “other side.” That near-circus-like glimpse is provided when Theo visits his wealthy cousin to obtain Kee’s transit papers, and he is driven through the gated park of the sequestered, privileged few—there, the rich are showcased with a parade of domestic and exotic animals, kept as child substitutes and amusing divertissements.
But most of the film is spent in less idyllic surroundings. To find and film in those locations, cast and crew travelled throughout the capital city and up and down the English countryside, braving the elements of winter in some less-than-glamorous locations, including a working farm in Hertfordshire, a disused dockyard in Kent and an army barracks in Hampshire.
To quickly establish time and place, Children of Men opens with a shot of London’s Fleet Street (the traditional home of the British press, now more a home to the law, with its courts and legal chambers) with St. Paul’s Cathedral visible in the background. But the feeling of familiarity and safety is quickly shattered when a bomb explodes in a coffee shop (a re-dressed pub) seconds after Theo has exited. Viewers know that society is eroding.
Theo’s subsequent kidnapping lands him in front of former love Julian in an abandoned warehouse—in actuality, part of the Historic Dockyard in Chatham, Kent, historically significant as a royal dockyard from 1613 to 1984; the yard survives as the most complete example of its kind from the age of sailing.
The Tate Modern, the national gallery of international modern art, doubles as the entrance to the Ministry of Arts, owned by Theo’s cousin, Nigel. In the film, Nigel houses a collection of masterpieces rescued from countries collapsing into selfdestruction— among the artwork is Michelangelo’s iconic statue of David. The Tate Modern, created in 2000, is housed in a former power plant and situated on the South Bank of the Thames.
The late Jean Paul Getty’s estate in Sutton, near Guilford, served as the crew base for a week that involved filming outdoor scenes, utilizing paved roads, driveways and wooded areas. Key to some of these scenes is a pulse-pounding motorcycle chase, and filming was halted early on two occasions, thanks to torrential rain and knee-high mud.
Filming locations of interest also included: Bruneval Barracks at military base Aldershot Garrison, which doubled as a refugee checkpoint; Royal Air Force’s Upper Heyford, a base used during both World Wars and during the Cold War, transformed into a portion of a refugee camp where Theo frantically searches for Kee (one of Cuarón’s longest filming takes); the Watercress Line, formerly part of Britain’s national rail network between the towns of Alton and Alresford and now a preserved heritage steam railway line, which was used as Theo’s method of transport to meet Jasper; and Wimbledon Dog Track in South London, which was utilized as a regular haunt of Theo’s and a designated rendezvous point between Theo and Julian’s emissaries.
In most cases, the production had to work its way around location availability, specifically with Trafalgar Square and Admiralty Arch (located across the street from the Square and the entrance to the Mall, the road through St. James’s Park leading to Buckingham Palace). Locations supervisor Sharp says, “That location was particularly tricky to secure and available for literally one day between the start of preproduction in 2005 and the second week in February 2006. So we had to make it work! It’s also a crazy time of the year, due to all the events that take place for the Trafalgar and Second World War celebrations.”
Inherent in location filming is the mountainous paperwork that needs to be executed to secure shooting privileges—and it doesn’t come any tougher than attempting to maneuver through the complex democratic system of interlocking permissions with differing authorities to film in Admiralty Arch and Trafalgar Square. Producer Iain Smith says, “When you see something onscreen that could take three seconds, it has, in fact, taken several months of work to put together.”
Compounding the already challenging system is the extra effort needed to obtain filming within the “Red Zone” (the highly trafficked area in the City of London between Whitehall and Buckingham Palace), in light of the terrorist bombings of 2005. Productions must present a clear outline of what is needed to take place in the limited window provided, exact in its details, but also allowing for contingencies—and all of this with added considerations for security.
Design
Shooting the London of today provides a near monolithic set of challenges to filmmakers…add to that the fact that the setting of Children of Men is a proposed London 21 years in the future, and it becomes apparent that the production design and cinematographic teams were faced with their own sets of hurdles to overcome. The result is a world of inherent sadness that colors every frame of Cuarón’s film, from Emmanuel Lubezki’s photography to Geoffrey Kirkland and Jim Clay’s design.
2027 Britain is a society breaking down, a collision of new modern and traditional looks stitched together by the trappings of a police state. In some ways, it resembles a post-war landscape, with a reversion to a tribal way of life where people are merely trying to survive. Yet Cuarón is quick to point out, “We don’t have one iconic element in the film that is not from the present.”
To some, designing a film 500 years in the future might be considered easier than one to two decades ahead. To render such a world realistically, a thoughtful blending of current and futuristic must be created, planting viewers firmly in the “yet to be,” but also anchoring them with recognizable, everyday touchstones from the “now.” For example, Cuarón and his design team chose as one of the “hero” cars (or one with leading camera time) a Fiat Multipla because of its quirky shape, now slightly tweaked by the art department. The clothing designed by Jany Temime also reflects a recognizable world of the near future, yet one in disarray. It was reasoned that such commonplace objects as a car and clothes would not have altered that drastically in 21 years. The result is a world with subtle changes and few signposts—with a lot of it looking very much the same.
The job of production designers Kirkland and Clay was to create and provide an expansive, reality-based world full of texture, one with sufficient space to allow for the action of the story. Clay says, “It was very exciting and very challenging for the whole crew, because we were charged with knitting together a series of shots that should hopefully become seamless as one timeless piece of action. Alfonso has a brilliant eye for detail and sometimes, when you’re designing the bigger picture, you forget to put in those detailed elements. He’s constantly reminding us what makes it real.”
Michael Caine observes, “The detail on the set is down to Cuarón. I was watching him one day and he spent ten minutes placing postcards around the back of us so they’d be seen in a shot. It didn’t mean anything to us, but it’s important to him and for the look of his film.”
Production designer Clay says, “We had to find locations that served all the actions, which are always very clearly in Alfonso’s head from his writing of the screenplay. One of my greatest challenges has been to join all of the pieces together in a convincing way.”
*****
The dangers Children of Men proposes may not be so very far down the road. Continents falling to disease, incessant fights over immigration and the natural weather balance tipping out of control are not problems of the future. Indeed, some medical evidence is pointing toward an increased rate of infertility among women, possibly due to poor diet, substance abuse and pollution.
Such wake-up calls are not lost on the cast and crew of Children of Men. As the youngest cast member, Ashitey comments, “What is incredibly scary about the world created in Children of Men is the response and the reaction of the government to what happens globally. Instead of pulling together and helping each other, it goes completely the other way. It really is a frightening prospect—that selfishness and isolationism win out over charity and goodness.”
That vision is the product of a filmmaker who wisely chose a style that does not comment on the action, but merely observes it—and lets the viewer come to self-realized conclusions. Producer Hilary Shor points out that the “independent” style Cuarón chose for Children of Men also gives the viewer a little distance, in addition to the feeling of reality. Shor says, “Watching Alfonso’s process and the way he worked with our cinematographer was inspiring, because they would not take anything but the absolute best from all of us—from the crew, from the production and from the cast. He sees things that nobody else involved with the film sees.”
Producer Eric Newman says, “One of Alfonso’s many strengths is that he possesses the courage of his convictions. He set out to make a very specific film and never wavered.”
Clive Owen adds, “I’ve done a number of movies now and I have never been involved in a film like this. Alfonso is one of the few directors who has the vision to take on a movie like this and do a completely unique thing with it.”
As far as what Children of Men will mean to moviegoers, producer Marc Abraham sums up his own personal experience: “I think any great filmmaker, no matter how long he’s been doing it, maintains a sense of wonder and accomplishment. Alfonso Cuarón is no exception. Frankly, you just hope that the audience is swept up in his artistry and love of cinema.”
Ultimately, Cuarón hopes for a jumping-off point for discussion about the myriad of issues—fully present in the current world’s headlines—that ultimately give rise to the vision of the near future in Children of Men. He closes, “I didn’t want to make a film that ends when the credits roll. Instead, I wanted to make a film that, when the final credits roll…that’s really the beginning of the film.”
These production notes provided by Universal Pictures.
Children of Men
Starring: Clive Owen, Julianne Moore, Gary Oldman, Charlie Hunnam, Chiwetel Ejiofor
Directed by: Alfonso Cuarón
Screenplay by: David Arata, Alfonso Cuarón, Timothy J. Sexton
Release: December 25, 2006
Running Time: 114 minutes
MPAA Rating: R for violence, language, drug use, brief nudity.
Studio: Universal Pictures
Box Office Totals
Domestic: $35,552,383 (51.1%)
Foreign: $34,060,295 (48.9%)
Total: $69,612,678 (Worldwide)