It was as though Dante met Huxley sometime in the No Future.

Chil­dren of Men runs the dystopi­an gamut, from V for Vendet­ta and 28 Days Lat­er to Fahren­heit 451, THX 1138 and 1984, while cap­tur­ing the dead seri­ous urgency of cur­rent pol­i­tics, thanks to heavy dos­es of xeno­pho­bia, insur­rec­tion­ist vio­lence, sur­veil­lance, impris­on­ment and tor­ture. Draw­ing rev­er­ent­ly from the sto­ry of Christ’s flight through Egypt, Alfon­so Cuarón has made the dystopi­an thriller of our time — one rife with the para­noia, cyn­i­cism and iner­tia that have come to define our polit­i­cal time.

If there’s some­thing miss­ing from the film, it would be insuf­fi­cient time to absorb the moral weight of the mate­r­i­al with­out the need­less intru­sion of a music cue. It goes with­out say­ing the the images and per­for­mances com­mu­ni­cate the film’s seri­ous­ness ade­quate­ly; by com­par­i­son the music feels cheap. In some cas­es, the music mis­leads the audi­ence. For instance, the strains of King Crim­son’s “In the Court of the Crim­son King” filled me with dread — I expect­ed betray­al, detain­ment, torture…a trau­mat­ic work­out where­in the film’s action forced the audi­ence to suf­fer the fate of the character[s] in ques­tion. When noth­ing of the sort hap­pens, the lin­ger­ing uncer­tain­ty is still unset­tling, but not as force­ful as the out­come the music portends.

The music notwith­stand­ing, Chil­dren of Men exceeds expec­ta­tions with quick-paced action, on point polemics and over­ar­ch­ing mes­sage of hope and opti­mism, mak­ing it an imme­di­ate clas­sic in the vein of the dystopi­an thrillers that pre­ced­ed it.

[See also: Chil­dren of Men earns Cin­e­marati’s top rank­ing]