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The date 2025 might sound increasingly advanced. Perhaps it's the presence of the consonant "f" in "five". However 2026 signifies one step beyond, and it's where we currently stand, with every futuristic development – primarily the broad integration of artificial intelligence – appearing dystopian, or possibly even worse. (Doesn't it feel like in a proper dystopia, the mind-dulling corporate-sponsored anti-human technology might function more effectively?) Did no one sound the alarm about this?

The response, particularly concerning science fiction films from years ago (or sometimes months ago) positioned in 2026, is both yes and no. A number of these prophecies are broadly applicable (global catastrophe) but in detail far-fetched (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will most likely bring down the primate species with us). Others of them are prescient; the rest just resemble bad green screen. Yet it remains worth examining where different film-makers, ranging from masters to grunts, believed we'd be situated by now in the world's evolution. Therefore, we shall 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'

Well, this isn't promising. According to the video game adaptation *Doom*, whose two-decade milestone was noted by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that humanity discovers a portal to an ancient city on Mars, where the people of Earth are able to set up a scientific outpost. Currently, the bad stuff – regarding narrative and concerning garish cinematic imitations of a first-person-shooter video game – doesn't really go down for two more decades later, so should we find a Martian gateway this year, we might have some time to avert catastrophe. If we did 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 send everyone to Mars or would instantly become disheartened that the discovery was not a thing he funded himself, enabling him to claim savior-like ownership for mankind's expansion into the stars. This precedes we consider the collection of extraterrestrial genetics and subsequent mutations into horrific creatures. (Once more, this is closer to 2046, distinct from the acclaimed director's film.) In general, *Doom* is (at the very least) a useful example for why, exactly we allow Mars become a long-term aspiration for humanity. Whether in John Carpenter's chintzy space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded science fiction of *Red Planet*, or the new-age mysticism of *Mission to Mars*, our far-off planet doesn't tend to serve as a symbol of hope. If anyone wants to make that questionable red-planet real estate sale, perhaps they should start with first ensuring the fantasy version appear appealing.

The Marvel Dregs

One of the strangest features of the present Marvel Cinematic Universe is how to account for the multiple world-threatening disasters, encompassing a half-decade leap whose events are mostly not shown in the films themselves; the movies have turned into a alarm clock constantly running a few seconds fast – only instead of minutes, it's annual increments. So there's a whole bunch of Marvel stuff that fan sites clarify to be taking place 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 pretty unmoored from any concrete sense of time. However the poorer material is among the weakest the studio has ever produced: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the remote-meeting debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Judging by this stuff, we're in for a whole lot of frustrating stagnation in 2026, including the accompanying spin that actually, this confusing mess unfolding before our eyes is essential to future events. More troublingly, in the real world that assertion will probably turn out to be correct.

Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

The majority of the classic five-film *Planet of the Apes* series is located in the more distant future of Earth, but the modern series that began with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* begins nearer the present, initiating its chronology around 2016. So by the time a virus that devastates the majority of Earth’s human population has done its damage, and simultaneously enhanced the intelligence of apes, it’s only 2026, with additional setbacks for mankind (and victories for apes) to come. The end-credits sequence of *Rise*, illustrating how rapidly this virus spreads around the world and set around 2019, appears downright eerie in the aftermath of the actual pandemic that would dawn in 2020. In contrast, the movie *Dawn* seems less literal; if you can believe it, we’re already half a decade from the spread of Covid-19, and society, though clearly impacted by the still-spreading virus, hasn't been wiped out, and technological infrastructure definitely hasn't been disabled. But this bleakest of the quartet of contemporary *Apes* movies (at least so far!) still has a significant bummer to offer, implying that human and/or ape nature, whatever qualifies as either, will unavoidably lead to violent conflict, no matter the efforts of the best-intentioned among us. We’re at the mercy of those who appeal to others’ worst instincts, even if those drives don't represent the most. Right now, it feels hard to argue with that, despite the fact that we ought to try.

The Silent Classic

Easily the most prominent portrayal of 2026 in cinema is from a movie nearing celebrating its 100th anniversary. Fritz Lang’s iconic silent film *Metropolis* is set in a city of tomorrow where rich businessmen preside over the towers as laborers work tirelessly below the surface on the machines that keep everything running. Affluent city-dweller Freder, scion of the city’s ruler, has his perspective changed to these enormous social gaps when he falls for Maria, an underground activist who advocates for a reconciliation of the separate strata of Metropolis. A inventor with darker plans builds a robot in her likeness, hoping to bring the whole of Metropolis to ruin. Here, a robot designed to mimic a human does not serve as an instrument of the ruling corporate class, but someone who wants to see them destroyed; it's a component inverted by the modern world in a future that in other ways appears to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where advanced machinery depends on old-fashioned manual labor, which seems like a most logical union of conservative contempt for “unskilled workers” and business zeal for an tech boom. It hasn't yet materialized, but it's simple to imagine a somewhat less stylish-looking version of Lang’s city growing with the prospect of a return to industrial production. The trickier, harder-to-imagine feat is the ending of the film, where the chasm between the wealthy and the have-nots is bridged with compassion; not so much with concrete reforms. Similar to *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates peaceful cohabitation; unlike *Dawn*, it seems optimistic about the possibility