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The year 2025 might sound more futuristic. Maybe it's the sound of the letter "f" in "five". But 2026 signifies one step beyond, a moment where we find ourselves, with each futuristic advancement – primarily the broad integration of AI – appearing bleak, or possibly even worse. (It often seems like in a true dystopia, the brain-numbing corporate-backed anti-human technology might function a bit better?) Didn't anyone warn us about this?

The response, at least concerning science fiction films from years ago (or occasionally months ago) positioned in 2026, is a mixed bag. A number of these prophecies are universally relevant (global catastrophe) but specifically implausible (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will almost certainly take the ape population alongside us). Some of them are prescient; others just resemble bad visual effects. But it's valuable to explore where different directors, ranging from masters to journeymen, thought we'd be positioned by now in our planet's development. So let's take a look at some of the films that have been depicted in 2026 over the years 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 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 are able to set up a research facility. Currently, the negative events – in terms of narrative and in terms of over-the-top cinematic imitations of a FPS video game – doesn't really transpire for another 20 years in the future, so should we find a portal to Mars now, we could gain some time to avert catastrophe. Were we to discover a portal to an old Martian city, it's genuinely difficult to determine whether Elon Musk would remain extremely excited to dispatch people to Mars or would immediately turn disheartened that the portal wasn't something he personally paid for, enabling him to assert messianic credit for mankind's expansion into the stars. That's before we consider the harvesting of Martian chromosomes and subsequent mutations into horrific creatures. (Again, this is closer to 2046, distinct from the acclaimed director's film.) In general, *Doom* is (if nothing else) a useful example for the reasons we let Mars serve as a long-term aspiration for humanity. Whether in the director's cheap-looking space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded sci-fi of *Red Planet*, or the new-age spiritualism of *Mission to Mars*, our distant neighbor planet doesn't tend to act as a symbol of optimism. Should someone wants to close that dubious Martian property deal, maybe they should start with first ensuring the fictional depiction appear appealing.

The Marvel Dregs

One of the strangest features of the current MCU is how to account for the multiple world-threatening cataclysms, including a half-decade leap whose events are mostly not shown in the films themselves; the movies have become like a alarm clock perpetually set a few minutes fast – except with minutes, it's years. Consequently, there exists a whole bunch of MCU content that fan sites clarify to be taking place 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 pretty unmoored from our sense of time. However the bad stuff is among the weakest Marvel has ever produced: the nonsensically meandering TV show *Secret Invasion* and the Zoom-call debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Based on this stuff, we're facing a great deal of frustrating wheel-spinning in 2026, along with the accompanying spin that actually, this nonsensical crap happening in front of us is crucial to future events. More troublingly, in the real world that assertion will likely prove accurate.

The Apes Saga Continues

The majority of the original five-film *Planet of the Apes* cycle is located in the further-flung future of Earth, but the modern series that started with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* begins closer to home, initiating its timeline approximately 2016. Thus, when a pathogen that devastates the majority of Earth’s people has run its course, and also boosted the intelligence of apes, it’s only 2026, with further human indignities (and simian triumphs) to come. The end-credits sequence of *Rise*, illustrating how swiftly this virus propagates around the world and taking place in 2019, looks downright eerie in the aftermath of the actual pandemic that would begin in 2020. In contrast, the movie *Dawn* seems less literal; if you can believe it, we’re now half a decade from the onset of Covid-19, and humanity, though clearly wounded by the still-spreading virus, hasn't been wiped out, and our technology certainly has not been disabled. Yet this bleakest of the four contemporary *Apes* movies (at least so far!) nonetheless contains a significant bummer to offer, suggesting that the fundamental nature of beings, whatever qualifies as each, will unavoidably lead to violent conflict, regardless of the work of the most well-meaning individuals. We’re subject to the whims of those who exploit others’ worst instincts, although those instincts are not held by the majority. Currently, it seems difficult to dispute that, despite the fact that we ought to try.

The Silent Classic

Easily the best-known depiction of 2026 in cinema is from a movie close to celebrating its 100th anniversary. Fritz Lang’s silent classic *Metropolis* is set in a futuristic city where rich businessmen lord over the skyscrapers as laborers toil underground on the machines that power the city. Affluent surface resident Freder, son of the city’s ruler, has his perspective changed to these massive class divisions when he becomes obsessed with Maria, an underground organizer who preaches a coming together of the two halves of Metropolis. A scientist with darker plans creates a automaton in her likeness, aiming to bring the entire Metropolis down in flames. Here, a robot designed to mimic a human isn't a tool of the elite, but someone who desires to witness their downfall; it's a component inverted by the modern world in a vision of tomorrow that in other ways appears to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where technology relies on traditional manual labor, which seems like a perfect fusion of rightwing contempt for “the working class” and business enthusiasm for an AI bubble. It has not yet come to pass, but it's simple to imagine a somewhat more utilitarian version of Lang’s city expanding out with the promise of a return to industrial production. The more complex, less plausible accomplishment is the conclusion of the film, where the gap between the wealthy and the poor is bridged with love; rather than with specific policies. Similar to *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates coexistence; unlike *Dawn*, it seems hopeful about the chance