During a conversation with his cousin, Theo Faron (Clive Owen) asks, “What keeps you going?” It’s a particularly candid moment in the Oscar-nominated “Children of Men,” which takes place in a dystopian world 20 years into the future. During a visit to a gallery he owns—and which is now, in 2027, home to Picasso’s “Guernica,” the artist’s 1937 protest against fascism and political violence—Owen’s cousin responds, “I just don’t think about it.”

Ignoring the realities of the world depicted in “Children of Men” might be the best recourse available.

Directed and co-written by Alfonso Cuarón of “Y Tu Mama También” and “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban” fame, the film imagines a world in which women are no longer able to bear children. Based on P.D. James’ novel, the film opens eighteen years after the last baby has been born, a phenomenon that coincides with—and perhaps contributes to—staunch anti-immigration sentiment, widespread violence, extensive environmental damage, and the frequent advertisement of assisted suicide drugs.

Perpetually scruffy and emotionally detached, Theo is left to protect the miraculously pregnant Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey) after her first defender Julian (Julianne Moore) is killed. The rebel group of which Julian was part, The Fishes, turns out to want the baby for its own political purposes.

Owen’s performance in “Closer” proved his ability to play aloof and distant characters, and his portrayal of Theo reinforces his command of that personality. Moore, during her short appearance, infuses her character with an immense vitality and power.

But the force of the movie ultimately lies in how scarily realistic it is. London, where Theo lives, is not depicted as futuristic; in fact, it does not appear much different than it does today, with double-decker buses and coffee shops. Since scientists have not figured out the cause behind women’s infertility, there is no scientific jargon to justify categorization as science fiction.

Furthermore, the film’s major issues—immigration, the environment, and politically sanctioned force—mirror our concerns today. Although they’re startlingly severe, it’s not difficult to imagine their current counterparts developing in similar directions given our current policies.

And precisely because of how ultimately plausible the film is, the messages it conveys are all the more compelling and poignant. The film’s depiction of the use of political violence rather than more peaceful methods rings particularly true in the world of 2007—a world that could stand to take time to watch this cautionary tale.

—Staff writer Victoria B. Kabak can be reached at vkabak@fas.harvard.edu.