2067 (2020)

2067 is the kind of science fiction that swings big and means it, dropping you into a suffocating near-future where every breath feels borrowed and every choice carries moral weight. Seth Larney builds a gritty, tactile world of rusted industry and poisoned air, and the film’s sleek visuals and pulsing score keep it moving with the urgency of a warning siren. Kodi Smit-McPhee gives the story a bruised humanity, grounding the high-concept time-travel hook in grief, fear, and stubborn hope, while the narrative keeps tossing in smart turns that invite you to lean in rather than tune out. It’s not for everyone—there’s harsh language and some intense violence—but if you like ambitious, idea-driven sci-fi with atmosphere to spare, this one is easy to recommend.

2067 is clearly aiming for a grim, eco-warning sci-fi thriller with a big emotional hook: an ordinary guy forced into an extraordinary, time-bending mission to save the people he loves and maybe humanity itself. The problem is the execution often can’t match the ambition, with clunky dialogue, uneven performances, and storytelling that feels more plodding than mind-blowing when it should be escalating. If you’re coming for sharp writing, clever time-travel rules, or a genuinely profound exploration of climate collapse, you may find it frustratingly basic and occasionally heavy-handed. That said, the bleak atmosphere and central dilemma can still work if you’re in the mood for a dour, mid-budget sci-fi concept piece and you’re okay with intense violence and very strong language along the way.