Book & movie review: The Children of Men

The Children of Men, by P.D. James, the book on which the recent film was based, is a dire what-if tale of a world without a future, caused by sudden, inexplicable universal sterility. The story unfolds twenty-five years after the last baby was born, around a middle-aged university professor in London, who had become detached from life and humanity far before this crisis. Through his journal entries the reader learns how society is dying: the emergent pathologies, the devolutions, the apathy. One day, however, a compelling young woman crosses his path and captures his attention. This is where the story takes off.


The basic premise of the book and film are the same (worldwide inability to procreate); however, James tells a much better, a much more psychologically and emotionally haunting story. I saw the movie first and thought that it was a pretty good story and well-acted (by Michael Caine, Clive Owen, Julianne Moore) despite the pro-illegal sob-story subplot. Then I read the book and thought, this a great story as is, but the Hollywood lefties had to impose their politics, ignore the book's well-crafted characters, nuances and compelling issues - pretty much dumped the whole plot of the book. Essentially, the film-makers took a neat idea from the book and fabricated their own, politically slanted and fractured narrative - in my mind, a much inferior one to the original.