The date 2025 might sound increasingly advanced. Perhaps it's the presence of the consonant "f" in "five". But 2026 represents one step beyond, and it's where we find ourselves, with each science-fiction-style development – chiefly the broad integration of AI – appearing dystopian, or perhaps more grim. (It often seems like in a proper dystopia, the mind-dulling corporate-sponsored dehumanizing technology would actually operate more effectively?) Did no one warn us about this?
The response, at least concerning science fiction films made long ago (or occasionally recently) positioned in 2026, is a mixed bag. Some of these prophecies are universally relevant (global catastrophe) but in detail implausible (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will most likely take the primate species with us). Others of them are prescient; the rest just resemble poor visual effects. But it's worth examining where different film-makers, ranging from masters to grunts, thought we'd be positioned by this time in the world's evolution. Therefore, we shall take a look at some of the films that have been depicted in 2026 over the years and determine if they have anything to impart.
The Game 'Doom'
Well, this doesn't bode well. According to the game-to-film translation *Doom*, whose 20th anniversary was noted by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that humanity discovers a portal to an long-lost metropolis on Mars, where the inhabitants of Earth are able to establish a scientific outpost. Now, the bad stuff – regarding plot and in terms of garish film versions of a FPS video game – does not actually transpire for another 20 years in the future, so even if we do discover a Martian gateway this year, we might have a respite to avoid catastrophe. If we did uncover a portal to an ancient Martian city, it's truly hard to tell whether Elon Musk would remain super-psyched to send everyone to Mars or would immediately turn dejected that the discovery was not a thing he funded himself, enabling him to assert messianic credit for humanity's expansion to the cosmos. That's before we even get to the collection of extraterrestrial genetics and resulting mutations into monstrous beings. (Once more, this is nearer 2046, distinct from the Wong Kar-wai film.) Overall, *Doom* is (if nothing else) a good test case for why, exactly we allow Mars become a stretch-goal hope for humanity. Be it in the director's chintzy space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded science fiction of *Red Planet*, or the woo-woo mysticism of *Mission to Mars*, our far-off planet rarely act as a beacon of optimism. If anyone wishes to make that questionable Martian property deal, maybe they ought to begin with first making the fictional depiction look good.
The Marvel Dregs
One of the strangest features of the present Marvel Cinematic Universe is the way it handles the multiple world-threatening disasters, encompassing a half-decade leap whose events are mostly not shown in the films themselves; the films have turned into a clock radio constantly running a few minutes fast – only instead of minutes, it's annual increments. So there's a whole bunch of MCU content that various wikis helpfully explain to be set in 2026. The good ones, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underrated romp *The Marvels*, occur far away from Earth, and so feel quite unmoored from any concrete sense of time. But the poorer material is some of the worst Marvel has ever produced: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the Zoom-call debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Based on these examples, we're facing a great deal of frustrating wheel-spinning in 2026, along with the accompanying narrative that in truth, this confusing mess unfolding before our eyes is essential to whatever happens next. Even worse, in the actual world that claim will probably prove correct.
Dawn of the Planet of the Apes
Most of the original five-movie *Planet of the Apes* cycle is located in the further-flung tomorrow of Earth, but the modern series that started with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* starts nearer the present, initiating its timeline approximately 2016. Thus, when a pathogen that devastates most of Earth’s people has run its course, and simultaneously boosted the intelligence of primates, it’s merely 2026, with further setbacks for mankind (and victories for apes) to come. The end-credits sequence of *Rise*, illustrating how rapidly this contagion spreads globally and taking place around 2019, looks profoundly unsettling in the wake of the real-world pandemic that would dawn in 2020. By comparison, the movie *Dawn* seems more abstract; if you can believe it, we’re already six years out from the spread of Covid-19, and humanity, though clearly wounded by the still-spreading virus, was not annihilated, and our technology definitely hasn't been knocked out. Yet this most pessimistic of the four modern *Apes* movies (at least so far!) nonetheless contains a substantial downer to offer, suggesting that the fundamental nature of beings, however one defines each, will unavoidably result in violent conflict, no matter the work of the most well-meaning individuals. We’re at the mercy of those who appeal to others’ worst instincts, even if those instincts are not held by the most. Currently, it seems difficult to dispute that, even though we probably should.
The Silent Classic
By far the most prominent portrayal of 2026 in cinema is from a movie close to marking its centennial. The director's iconic silent film *Metropolis* takes place in a futuristic city where wealthy industrialists preside over the skyscrapers as workers toil underground on the equipment that power the city. Rich city-dweller Freder, son of the city’s master, has his perspective changed to these enormous class divisions when he falls for Maria, an subterranean organizer who advocates for a reconciliation of the separate strata of Metropolis. A inventor with darker plans creates a robot in her likeness, hoping to bring the whole of Metropolis down in flames. In this narrative, a robot created to mimic a human does not serve as an instrument of the ruling corporate class, but someone who wants to witness their downfall; it's one element inverted by reality in a future that in other ways seems to be progressing. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where technology depends on old-fashioned human toil, which appears as a perfect union of conservative contempt for “unskilled workers” and corporate enthusiasm for an AI bubble. It has not yet materialized, but it's easy to imagine a slightly less stylish-looking version of Lang’s city expanding out with the promise of a return to manufacturing. The more complex, harder-to-imagine feat is the conclusion of the film, where the gap between the haves and the poor is bridged with compassion; not so much with concrete reforms. Like *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie pleads for coexistence; in contrast to *Dawn*, it appears optimistic about the possibility
