2067: A Lo-Fi Leap into the Future

2067 is a surprisingly thoughtful sci-fi film that offers more than its modest budget might suggest. It’s not a flashy blockbuster, but for viewers in the mood for a slower-paced, idea-driven experience, it delivers a satisfying journey into a dystopian future.

Set in the year 2067, the Earth has been ravaged by climate change, and oxygen has become a rare commodity. Humanity’s last hope comes in the form of a mysterious message from the future: “Send Ethan Whyte.” Kodi Smit-McPhee plays Ethan, a tunnel worker reluctantly thrust into a mission that could save the human race. Among those orchestrating the mission is Regina Jackson (Deborah Mailman), a high-ranking executive at Chronicorp, whose motives remain ambiguous as the stakes rise. Ethan leaves behind his dying wife, Xanthe (Sana’a Shaik), and travels 400 years forward in time, only to discover a crumbling facility, a cryptic note, and far more questions than answers. Back in the present, his longtime friend and guardian Jude (Ryan Kwanten) provides support—at least initially—before eventually joining him on the mission.

Ethan’s journey is shaped by the legacy of his late father, Richard Whyte (Aaron Glenane), a brilliant physicist whose mysterious disappearance and unfinished work with time travel cast a long shadow over the entire mission.

The film doesn’t rush. In fact, there are moments where it slows down a little too much—particularly when Ethan is exploring a new environment. The camera lingers on his reactions for what feels like forever before finally showing us what he's looking at. More than once I caught myself snapping my fingers at the screen, silently urging the director, “Come on, just show it already!” That said, the deliberate pacing does help build a certain atmosphere—quiet, uncertain, and a little eerie—which suits the story’s tone.

Visually, 2067 makes the most of its limited resources. The sets aren’t extravagant, but they’re cleverly designed. A control room glowing with colored panel lights evokes the retro charm of Star Trek: The Original Series—simple, functional, and evocative. There’s a minimalist aesthetic at work here that lets your imagination do some of the world-building. Rather than overloading the frame with CG, the film gives just enough to hint at a larger world and leaves the rest to the mentis oculi.

The performances are generally solid, if not unforgettable. Smit-McPhee brings a quiet vulnerability to the role, and Kwanten anchors things with a more grounded presence. There’s a touch of melodrama and overacting here and there, but nothing that breaks the spell.

The story itself is compelling, with strong sci-fi bones and some intriguing twists. But even so, there’s a nagging sense that not everything holds together. You might not be able to point to a specific plot hole, but you can feel that something’s missing—like a few connective threads were snipped or left dangling.

All in all, 2067 is a film worth checking out—especially if it’s free. Watching it on a service like Kanopy, which many public libraries provide access to (as they do here in Toronto), makes the experience even better. If it's not available in your country, maybe it’s time to nudge your local government about supporting public resources that give people access to films like this—films that, while not perfect, still have something to say.

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