Yesterday I went with a friend to see Children of Men. It’s a very beautiful, totally absorbing film about the world, just a few decades from now, becoming a literally barren dystopia. Gorgeous, well acted, great, especially as anchored by the manliest human being alive, Clive Owen.
Unfortunately, the casting of Clive Owen directly undermines the movie’s thesis. I’m supposed to believe that in 2027 the world has become a horrible, horrible place where women can no longer become pregnant. But the thing is: how can the world be that horrible if someone as sexy and delightful as Clive Owen is running around in it? I mean, if he’s still walking about, talking in his delightful accent, looking at you with his beautiful, wolfish eyes, and just generally being Clive Owenish – then I contend that the world just cannot be that bad a place. Even if he isn’t talking in his delicious accent; even if he isn’t looking at you, like maybe he’s looking at someone else, like maybe this alleged “wife” he has; and even if he’s not being all Clive Owenish – maybe he has a day where he’s kind of acting like Randy Newman – I’d still say, the world simply isn’t that awful, no matter how polluted and Orwellian the rest of the situation is.
And really? I can’t get pregnant in the future? You mean I could have sex with Clive Owen a million times and not have to use a condom or worry about getting knocked up? How awful.
And I don’t think just straight girls feel this way. I asked another friend, an avowedly heterosexual male, who also saw Children of Men, to admit that he would let Clive Owen do any number of lurid sexual things to him. He paused for a moment before he answered. “Well, yeah. But I mean – I would want to do stuff to him too.”