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The year 2025 might sound more futuristic. Perhaps it's the presence of the consonant "f" in "five". But 2026 signifies one step beyond, and it's where we find ourselves, with every futuristic development – primarily the widespread adoption of artificial intelligence – appearing dystopian, or possibly more grim. (It often seems like in a true dystopia, the brain-numbing corporate-backed dehumanizing technology might function more effectively?) Didn't anyone warn us about this?

The response, particularly concerning our sci-fi movies from years ago (or sometimes recently) positioned in 2026, is both yes and no. A number of these prophecies are universally relevant (worldwide disaster) but specifically implausible (when mankind is ultimately ravaged, we will almost certainly bring down the primate species with us). Some of them are prescient; others just resemble poor visual effects. But it's worth examining where different directors, from geniuses to journeymen, thought we'd be situated by now in the world's development. So let's take a look at some of the films that have been set in 2026 throughout cinematic history and see if they have anything to impart.

The Game 'Doom'

Now, this isn't promising. According to the video game adaptation *Doom*, whose 20th anniversary was recently celebrated by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that mankind finds a gateway to an long-lost metropolis on Mars, where the people of Earth are able to establish a research facility. Now, the bad stuff – regarding narrative and concerning garish film versions of a FPS video game – does not actually go down for another 20 years in the future, so even if we find a Martian gateway this year, we could gain a respite to avert catastrophe. Were we to uncover a portal to an ancient Martian city, it's truly hard to tell whether a certain tech billionaire would remain extremely excited to send everyone to Mars or would instantly become dejected that the portal wasn't something he funded himself, enabling him to claim savior-like ownership for mankind's journey into the stars. That's before we consider the collection of Martian chromosomes and resulting transformations into monstrous beings. (Again, this is closer to 2046, distinct from the acclaimed director's film.) In general, *Doom* is (if nothing else) a useful example for why, exactly we allow Mars serve as a long-term aspiration for humanity. Be it in the director's cheap-looking space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the realistic sci-fi of *Red Planet*, or the woo-woo mysticism of *Mission to Mars*, our far-off planet rarely act as a symbol of hope. Should someone wishes to make that dubious red-planet property deal, maybe they should start with first ensuring the fantasy version appear appealing.

Marvel's Lesser Offerings

A of the goofiest quirks of the present MCU is the way it handles the multiple global cataclysms, including a half-decade leap whose events are largely undepicted in the films themselves; the films have turned into a clock radio constantly running a few seconds fast – only instead of minutes, it's years. Consequently, there exists a large assortment of Marvel stuff that various wikis helpfully explain to be set in 2026. The better entries, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underrated adventure *The Marvels*, take place distant from Earth, and so feel quite detached from our sense of time. But the bad stuff is some of the worst the studio has created: the nonsensically meandering TV show *Secret Invasion* and the remote-meeting debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Judging by this stuff, we're facing a whole lot of annoying wheel-spinning in 2026, along with the accompanying narrative that actually, this nonsensical crap happening in front of us is crucial to whatever happens next. Even worse, in the real world that assertion will probably turn out to be accurate.

The Apes Saga Continues

Most of the classic five-film *Planet of the Apes* cycle is set in the more distant future of Earth, but the new trilogy that began with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* begins nearer the present, starting its timeline around 2016. So by the time a pathogen that knocks out most of Earth’s people has done its damage, and also enhanced the cognitive abilities of apes, it’s merely 2026, with additional human indignities (and victories for apes) ahead. The post-credits scene of *Rise*, illustrating how swiftly this contagion spreads globally and taking place around 2019, looks profoundly unsettling in the aftermath of the actual pandemic that would begin in 2020. In contrast, the movie *Dawn* looks more abstract; if you can believe it, we’re now six years out from the onset of Covid-19, and society, though clearly impacted by the still-spreading virus, was not annihilated, and our technology certainly hasn't been disabled. Yet this most pessimistic of the four contemporary *Apes* movies (to date!) still has a substantial bummer to offer, implying that the fundamental nature of beings, whatever qualifies as each, will inevitably lead to violent conflict, regardless of the work of the best-intentioned 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 feels hard to argue with that, despite the fact that we probably should.

Metropolis

Easily the best-known portrayal of 2026 in cinema is from a movie nearing marking its 100th anniversary. Fritz Lang’s silent classic *Metropolis* is set in a city of tomorrow where wealthy industrialists preside over the towers as laborers work tirelessly underground on the machines that power the city. Affluent surface resident Freder, son of the city’s master, has his eyes opened to these massive social gaps when he falls for Maria, an subterranean activist who advocates for a reconciliation of the separate strata of Metropolis. A scientist with darker plans creates a automaton in her likeness, aiming to bring the entire Metropolis down in flames. In this narrative, a robot designed to mimic a human does not serve as an instrument of the ruling corporate class, but someone who desires to witness their downfall; it's one element flipped by reality in a vision of tomorrow that otherwise appears to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where technology relies on old-fashioned manual labor, which seems like a most logical fusion of rightwing contempt for “the working class” and business enthusiasm for an AI bubble. It has not yet materialized, but it's simple to imagine a somewhat more utilitarian iteration of Lang’s city expanding out with the promise of a return to industrial production. The trickier, harder-to-imagine accomplishment is the ending of the film, where the gap between the wealthy and the have-nots is bridged with compassion; rather than with specific policies. Similar to *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie pleads for coexistence; unlike *Dawn*, it appears optimistic about the possibility