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The year 2025 might sound increasingly advanced. Maybe it's the presence of the consonant "f" in "five". However 2026 represents a leap forward, and it's where we currently stand, with each science-fiction-style advancement – primarily the broad integration of artificial intelligence – appearing dystopian, or possibly even worse. (It often seems like in a proper dystopia, the brain-numbing corporate-sponsored anti-human technology would actually function a bit better?) Did no one warn us about this?

The answer, particularly concerning our sci-fi movies from years ago (or occasionally months ago) set in 2026, is a mixed bag. Some of these prophecies are universally relevant (worldwide disaster) but in detail far-fetched (if humanity is inevitably decimated, we will almost certainly take the primate species alongside us). Others of them are visionary; the rest just look like bad visual effects. But it's valuable to explore where different directors, from geniuses to grunts, thought we'd be positioned by this time in our planet's evolution. Therefore, we shall examine a selection of the films that have been set in 2026 over the years and see if they contain any lessons to impart.

Doom

Well, this isn't promising. In the universe of the video game adaptation *Doom*, whose two-decade milestone was noted by virtually no one, 2026 is the year that mankind discovers a gateway to an long-lost metropolis on Mars, where the people of Earth are able to set up a scientific outpost. Now, the bad stuff – regarding plot and concerning over-the-top film versions of a FPS video game – does not actually transpire for two more decades later, so even if we do discover a Martian gateway this year, we could gain some time to avert catastrophe. If we did uncover a passageway to an old Martian city, it's truly hard to tell whether a certain tech billionaire would remain extremely excited to dispatch people to Mars or would instantly become dejected that the portal wasn't something he funded himself, enabling him to assert savior-like ownership for mankind's journey into the stars. That's before we even get to the harvesting of extraterrestrial genetics and subsequent transformations into horrific creatures. (Again, this is nearer 2046, distinct from the acclaimed director's film.) Overall, *Doom* is (at the very least) a useful example for why, exactly we allow Mars serve as a stretch-goal aspiration for humanity. Be it in the director's cheap-looking space-western *Ghosts of Mars*, the more grounded sci-fi of *Red Planet*, or the new-age mysticism of *Mission to Mars*, our far-off planet doesn't tend to serve as a beacon of hope. If anyone wants to make that questionable red-planet property deal, maybe they should start with first making the fictional depiction appear appealing.

The Marvel Dregs

A of the goofiest quirks of the current Marvel Cinematic Universe is the way it handles the multiple world-threatening cataclysms, encompassing a five-year time-jump whose events are largely undepicted in the movies themselves; the movies have turned into a alarm clock constantly running a few seconds 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 set in 2026. The good ones, like *Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3* and the underrated romp *The Marvels*, take place distant from Earth, and so feel pretty detached from our sense of time. However the poorer material is some of the worst Marvel has ever produced: the convoluted and aimless TV show *Secret Invasion* and the Zoom-call debacle of *Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania*. Based on these examples, we're facing a great deal of annoying stagnation in 2026, along with the related 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 prove correct.

The Apes Saga Continues

Most of the classic five-movie *Planet of the Apes* cycle is set in the more distant future of Earth, but the modern series that began with 2011’s *Rise of the Planet of the Apes* starts nearer the present, starting its chronology approximately 2016. So by the time a virus that knocks out the majority of Earth’s people has run its course, and simultaneously enhanced the cognitive abilities of apes, it’s only 2026, with further setbacks for mankind (and victories for apes) ahead. The end-credits sequence of *Rise*, illustrating how rapidly this virus spreads globally and set in 2019, appears profoundly unsettling in the aftermath of the real-world global health crisis that would dawn in 2020. In contrast, the movie *Dawn* looks more abstract; if you can believe it, we’re already six years out from the spread of Covid-19, and humanity, though obviously impacted by the ongoing virus, hasn't been annihilated, and our technology definitely has not been knocked out. But this bleakest of the four modern *Apes* movies (at least so far!) nonetheless contains a significant downer to offer, implying that human and/or ape nature, whatever qualifies as either, will unavoidably result in warfare, regardless of the work of the most well-meaning individuals. We’re subject to the whims of those who exploit others’ baser impulses, although those instincts are not held by the majority. Right now, it feels difficult to dispute that, even though we probably should.

Metropolis

Easily the best-known portrayal of 2026 in film is from a movie nearing marking its 100th anniversary. The director's silent classic *Metropolis* is set in a futuristic city where wealthy industrialists preside over the skyscrapers as laborers work tirelessly below the surface on the machines that keep everything running. Rich surface resident Freder, son of the city’s master, has his perspective changed to these massive class divisions when he falls for Maria, an subterranean organizer who preaches a reconciliation of the two halves of Metropolis. A scientist with more radical plans builds a robot in her image, hoping to bring the whole of Metropolis down in flames. In this narrative, a machine created to imitate a human isn't a tool of the ruling corporate class, but someone who desires to witness their downfall; it's one element flipped by the modern world in a vision of tomorrow that otherwise seems to be well on its way. *Metropolis* also imagines a world where technology depends on old-fashioned manual labor, which seems like a perfect fusion of conservative contempt for “the working class” and corporate enthusiasm for an tech boom. It hasn't yet materialized, but it's easy to imagine a somewhat more utilitarian iteration of Lang’s city expanding out with the prospect of a return to industrial production. The trickier, less plausible feat is the conclusion of the film, where the chasm between the wealthy and the poor is spanned with love; rather than with specific policies. Like *Dawn of the Planet of the Apes*, the movie advocates peaceful cohabitation; unlike *Dawn*, it appears hopeful about the possibility