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The date 2025 could appear more futuristic. Maybe it's the presence of the consonant "f" in "five". But 2026 signifies one step beyond, a moment where we find ourselves, with each futuristic advancement – chiefly the widespread adoption of AI – seeming dystopian, or possibly more grim. (Doesn't it feel like in a true dystopia, the mind-dulling corporate-sponsored anti-human technology might function more effectively?) Did no one warn us regarding this?

The response, at least concerning science fiction films from years ago (or sometimes months ago) positioned in 2026, is a mixed bag. A number of those warnings are universally relevant (worldwide disaster) but specifically implausible (if humanity is inevitably ravaged, we will most likely take the primate species alongside us). Others of them are prescient; others just look like poor green screen. Yet it remains worth examining where different film-makers, ranging from masters to journeymen, thought we'd be positioned by this time in the world's evolution. So let's examine a selection of the movies that have been depicted in 2026 throughout cinematic history and determine if they contain any lessons to impart.

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 gateway to an long-lost metropolis on Mars, where the people of Earth can set up a scientific outpost. Now, the bad stuff – regarding narrative and in terms of over-the-top film versions of a FPS video game – doesn't really transpire for another 20 years in the future, so should we do discover a Martian gateway now, we might have a respite to avert true disaster. If we did uncover a passageway to an old Martian city, it's truly hard to tell whether a certain tech billionaire would still be super-psyched to dispatch people to Mars or would immediately turn dejected that the portal wasn't something he funded himself, allowing him to claim messianic ownership for mankind's journey to the cosmos. This precedes we even get to the collection of Martian chromosomes and resulting mutations into horrific creatures. (Once more, this is closer to 2046, distinct from the Wong Kar-wai film.) Overall, *Doom* is (if nothing else) a good test case for why, exactly we let Mars become a long-term aspiration for mankind. Whether in the director's chintzy genre hybrid *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded science fiction of *Red Planet*, or the woo-woo spiritualism of *Mission to Mars*, our distant neighbor planet doesn't tend to act as a beacon of optimism. Should someone wishes to close that dubious Martian property deal, maybe they ought to begin with first making the fantasy version look good.

The Marvel Dregs

A of the strangest features of the present Marvel Cinematic Universe is how to account for the multiple world-threatening disasters, including a five-year time-jump whose events are mostly undepicted in the movies themselves; the films have become like a alarm clock constantly set a few seconds fast – only instead of minutes, it's annual increments. Consequently, there exists a large assortment of Marvel stuff that various wikis clarify to be taking place in 2026. The good ones, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underrated romp *The Marvels*, take place far away from Earth, and so feel pretty detached from our sense of time. But the bad stuff is among the weakest Marvel has created: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the remote-meeting farce of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Judging by these examples, we're in for a whole lot of annoying stagnation in 2026, along with the related spin that actually, this nonsensical crap unfolding before our eyes is essential to whatever happens next. Even worse, in the real world that assertion will probably prove correct.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

The majority of the original five-film *Planet of the Apes* series is set in the further-flung future of Earth, but the modern series that started with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* starts nearer the present, initiating its chronology around 2016. So by the time a virus that devastates the majority of Earth’s people has done its damage, and simultaneously boosted the intelligence of apes, it’s only 2026, with additional setbacks for mankind (and simian triumphs) ahead. The post-credits scene of *Rise*, depicting how rapidly this virus spreads globally and taking place around 2019, looks downright eerie in the aftermath of the actual global health crisis that would dawn in 2020. In contrast, the movie *Dawn* seems less literal; if you can believe it, we’re now six years out from the onset of Covid-19, and humanity, though clearly impacted by the ongoing virus, hasn't been annihilated, and technological infrastructure definitely has not been disabled. But this bleakest of the four contemporary *Apes* movies (to date!) still has a significant downer in store, suggesting that human and/or ape nature, however one defines each, will inevitably lead to warfare, no matter the work of the best-intentioned individuals. We’re subject to the whims of those who appeal to others’ baser impulses, even if those instincts don't represent the majority. Right now, it seems hard to dispute that, even though we ought to try.

The Silent Classic

Easily the most prominent portrayal of 2026 in film is from a movie nearing celebrating its 100th anniversary. Fritz Lang’s iconic silent film *Metropolis* is set in a city of tomorrow where wealthy industrialists lord over the skyscrapers as workers work tirelessly below the surface on the equipment that keep everything running. Affluent surface resident Freder, son of the city’s master, has his perspective changed to these massive class divisions when he becomes obsessed with Maria, an underground activist who preaches a reconciliation of the separate strata of Metropolis. A scientist with more radical plans builds a automaton in her likeness, aiming to tear the entire Metropolis down in flames. Here, a machine designed to mimic a human isn't a tool of the elite, but someone who desires to witness their downfall; it's one element flipped by reality in a future that in other ways appears to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also envisions a world where advanced machinery depends on old-fashioned manual labor, which seems like a perfect fusion of conservative contempt for “the working class” and business enthusiasm for an tech boom. It hasn't yet come to pass, but it's easy to picture a somewhat less stylish-looking version of Lang’s city expanding out with the promise of a resurgence to manufacturing. The more complex, harder-to-imagine feat is the conclusion of the film, where the chasm between the wealthy and the have-nots is bridged with compassion; rather than with concrete reforms. Like *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates peaceful cohabitation; unlike *Dawn*, it seems optimistic about the chance