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The date 2025 could appear increasingly advanced. Maybe it's the presence of the letter "f" in "five". But 2026 represents one step beyond, a moment where we find ourselves, with each futuristic advancement – chiefly the broad integration of AI – appearing dystopian, or perhaps even worse. (Doesn't it feel like in a true dystopia, the mind-dulling corporate-sponsored dehumanizing technology would actually operate a bit better?) Did no one warn us regarding this?

The answer, particularly concerning science fiction films made long ago (or sometimes months ago) positioned in 2026, is both yes and no. A number of these prophecies are broadly applicable (worldwide disaster) but specifically implausible (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will almost certainly bring down the primate species alongside us). Some of them are prescient; others just look like poor green screen. But it's worth examining where different directors, ranging from masters to grunts, thought we'd be situated by this time in our planet's development. So let's take a look a selection of the movies that have been depicted in 2026 throughout cinematic history and see if they have anything to impart.

The Game 'Doom'

Now, this isn't promising. According to the game-to-film translation *Doom*, whose two-decade milestone was noted by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that mankind finds a gateway to an ancient city on Mars, where the people of Earth can set up a scientific outpost. Now, the negative events – regarding narrative and concerning over-the-top film versions of a FPS video game – doesn't really go down for another 20 years later, so should we find a Martian gateway now, we might have a respite to avert catastrophe. Were we to uncover a portal to an ancient Martian city, it's genuinely difficult to determine whether a certain tech billionaire would still be extremely excited to dispatch people to Mars or would instantly become dejected that the discovery wasn't something he personally paid for, enabling him to assert savior-like ownership for mankind's journey to the cosmos. That's before we consider the harvesting of extraterrestrial genetics and resulting mutations into monstrous beings. (Again, this is closer to 2046, distinct from the acclaimed director's film.) Overall, *Doom* is (at the very least) a useful example for why, exactly we allow Mars become a stretch-goal aspiration for mankind. Whether in the director's cheap-looking space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded sci-fi of *Red Planet*, or the woo-woo spiritualism of *Mission to Mars*, our distant neighbor planet rarely act as a beacon of optimism. If anyone wants to make that dubious Martian real estate sale, perhaps they should start with at least making the fantasy version look good.

Marvel's Lesser Offerings

A of the strangest features of the present Marvel Cinematic Universe is how to account for the various world-threatening cataclysms, encompassing a five-year time-jump whose events are mostly not shown in the movies themselves; the movies have become like a clock radio perpetually set a few minutes fast – only instead of minutes, it's annual increments. Consequently, there exists a large assortment of Marvel stuff that various wikis helpfully explain to be taking place in 2026. The better entries, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underappreciated adventure *The Marvels*, occur far away from Earth, and so feel pretty unmoored from our sense of time. But the bad stuff is some of the worst the studio has created: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the remote-meeting farce of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Judging by this stuff, we're in for a great deal of frustrating stagnation in 2026, along with the related narrative that in truth, this nonsensical crap happening before our eyes is essential to whatever happens next. Even worse, in the real world that assertion will likely turn out to be accurate.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

Most of the original five-movie *Planet of the Apes* cycle is set in the more distant future of Earth, but the modern series that started with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* starts closer to home, initiating its chronology around 2016. Thus, when a virus that knocks out the majority of Earth’s human population has run its course, and simultaneously boosted the cognitive abilities of apes, it’s only 2026, with additional human indignities (and victories for apes) ahead. The post-credits scene of *Rise*, depicting how rapidly this contagion propagates around the world and taking place around 2019, appears profoundly unsettling 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 already six years out from the onset of Covid-19, and humanity, though obviously impacted by the still-spreading virus, was not wiped out, and our technology definitely has not been knocked out. But this most pessimistic of the four contemporary *Apes* movies (at least so far!) still has a substantial bummer in store, suggesting that human and/or ape nature, however one defines each, will unavoidably lead to warfare, regardless of the efforts of the most well-meaning individuals. We’re at the mercy of those who appeal to others’ baser impulses, although those drives don't represent the most. Currently, it feels difficult to argue with that, despite the fact that we probably should.

Metropolis

By far the best-known depiction of 2026 in cinema is from a movie nearing celebrating its 100th anniversary. The director's silent classic *Metropolis* is set in a city of tomorrow where wealthy industrialists preside over the towers as workers work tirelessly underground on the machines that power the city. Rich city-dweller Freder, son of the city’s ruler, has his perspective changed to these enormous class divisions when he falls for Maria, an subterranean organizer who advocates for a coming together of the two halves of Metropolis. A scientist with darker plans creates a automaton in her image, hoping to bring the entire Metropolis to ruin. Here, a machine designed to imitate a human isn't a tool of the elite, but an entity who wants to witness their downfall; it's one element flipped by the modern world in a future that in other ways seems to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where technology relies on traditional human toil, which seems like a perfect union of rightwing disdain for “the working class” and corporate enthusiasm for an AI bubble. It has not yet come to pass, but it's simple to picture a slightly more utilitarian iteration of Lang’s city expanding out with the prospect of a resurgence to manufacturing. The more complex, less plausible feat is the conclusion of the film, where the gap between the wealthy and the poor is bridged with love; not so much with specific policies. Similar to *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates peaceful cohabitation; unlike *Dawn*, it seems hopeful about the chance