The Age of The Virus may be a distant memory now, one we’ve all done our best to forget collectively, but it revealed a great deal about the compliance of Westerners to technocratic authoritarianism in their respective nations.  Yes, there were pockets of ornery resistance—thank God I live in South Carolina!—but the full might of the weaponized media, elite toadies, and cat moms came out to scold us all for wanting to breathe free and enjoy public gatherings (the latter protected, albeit seemingly only on paper, in the First Amendment).

It’s little wonder that we try to suppress the memory of that benighted time, but like all such attempts to forget the past, it only serves as an unhealthy way to deal with deep trauma.  By pushing all of those bad memories down, we avoid thinking about the unpleasant consequences that our society-wide foolishness wrought.

Of course, part of that response is that everyone got super bored talking about The Virus because, after awhile, it did get boring.  Like all diseases, it reached its critical mass and then ebbed away, each new wave being less virulent, less lethal, and less widespread.  The Left seemed eager to memory-hole the entire thing, and the Right was just glad we didn’t have to read another boring article with a lot medical lingo that we all pretended to understand.  The Age of The Virus really did reveal how shallow and gutless we all are.

One realm in which the trauma has endured is film.  Whether intentionally or otherwise, it’s hard to suppress those memories in works of art; after all, art is, at least in part, an expression of our innermost feelings and struggles.  In vino veritas, yes, but also In arte veritas est.

The Age of The Virus crystallized a number of unpleasant Truths:  the cowardice of our populous; the brazen indifference and hypocrisy of our elites; and the paradoxical grasping to stay alive at all costs while viewing millions of other, “lesser” lives as expendable.  No film more aptly captures these wretched qualities of the twenty-first century developed world better than 2024’s Humane.

Humane takes place in a near-future Canada (the exact nation is never specified, but the characters are pretty Canadian, and the film was shot and released in Canada), one of many nations that has signed onto the Athens Accords.  The Athens Accords commit signatory nations to euthanizing a percentage of their populations in order to combat an unspecified environmental crisis.  Canada, it seems, has signed on to convince a whopping 20% of its population to kill itself, a process called “Enlistment.”

The Department of Citizen Strategy, or “D.O.C.S.,” administers chemical euthanasia in enlistees’ homes.  Enlistees’ families receive a tax-free $250,000 from the government.  Rumors swirl about D.O.C.S. targeting minorities and illegal immigrants, all while the government disseminates pro-euthanasia propaganda, including weekly television segments commemorating enlistees with heartwarming stories about how their relatives are using the enlistment money to start new lives.

One of the most vocal supporters is a government-funded anthropologist, the weaselly Jared York, who goes so far as to say he hopes his young son will enlist on national television.  Jared is just one of four York children, all of whom struggle from that most paradoxical of conditions:  wealth.  The other siblings are Rachel York, a “girl boss” CEO with a child she had through artificial insemination; Ashley York, the baby and a struggling actress; and Noah York, the adopted fourth child and a recovering addict of indeterminate-but-obviously-brown ethnicity (I mention that because it is germane to the plot at times).

All four children are largely estranged from their father, Charles York, a retired television news anchor.  Charles and his Japanese wife, Dawn, have agreed to enlist, and announce their intentions amid a contentious dinner party with their children.  Dawn is a professional chef by trade, and takes great joy in preparing this meal—she is able to cook with real food, smuggled in despite rationing of such items due to the environmental crisis—even though she is clearly reticent about enlisting.

Not only does Charles reveal his and his wife’s decision to commit suicide, he announces that the procedure will occur that night.  His children—who obviously want more answers from their father, who was quite distant in their childhoods—object loudly and angrily.  Amid the chaos, Dawn disappears, leaving a note indicating that she cannot go through with the procedure.

Then D.O.C.S. arrives.  Charles attempts to reschedule until he can find his wife, but D.O.C.S. makes it clear that if he does not go through with the procedure that very night, his name will be added to a public “Cowards List”—and all of his assets and bank accounts will be frozen.  An outraged Charles, fearing both the loss of his wealth (which will go to his children) and his reputation as a courageous newsman, consents to the procedure.  His children watch as he slips away from this life, and assume the deed is done.

However, the D.O.C.S. representative, Bob, insists that he must return with a second body.  Bob, it turns out, works for a private contractor that D.O.C.S. farms this grim business out to, and he cannot return without the proper number of bodies.  They specifically have to be one of the York children (the granddaughter, Mia, is exempt because she is a minor).  The upshot is that the survivors will not only receive Charles’s enlistment pay, but will also split their father’s inheritance between them three ways.

The children are given two hours to make their decision—who will die?  Immediately, the film turns into a gruesome bout of lifeboat ethics.  The cowardly and pro-enlistment Jared proclaims that enlistment is “not for people like us,” and immediately argues that Noah should die.  Noah, after all, is a recovering drug addict, an adopted member of the family, and a general drain on the family’s resources.  Rachel agrees, saying that addicts “never really get over it,” and the two attack the crutch-wielding Noah.  Noah manages to fight away to safety with the help of Ashley, the sister with whom he is closest.

The siblings prey upon each others weaknesses, fears, and insecurities, going straight to the most Darwinian and cold calculations as to who is worthy of life and death.  The soft-hearted Ashley is soon swayed by her coldhearted siblings to betray Noah, but Noah continues to avoid death.  Everyone gets stabbed or wounded in some way to some extent, but over the course of their attempted carnage, they realize that they can band together against Bob and his armed goons.

The film is a brilliant bit of social satire and dark comedy—the blackest and darkest of the genre.  The actors really make you loathe the York children, but their portrayals also force us to look into ourselves and question what we would do in that scenario.

On a larger level, the film highlights a number of issues, especially the tendency of elites to prescribe solutions for the masses that are lethally absurd, but exempt themselves from their consequences.  It calls to mind not only the terrible lockdowns of The Age of The Virus, but also the elites importing millions of Third World goons who commit crimes and murders and rapine at elevated levels.  These elites are largely immune from the consequences of mass migration—and they reap the benefits of cheap housekeepers and lawn care—but their choices bear a heavy, dire burden on the rest of us.

Some critics have pointed to the commentary on private contracting, which is certainly there, and how these contractors are so eager to make a buck, they just want to check off the paperwork and get paid.  Of course, these critics are ignoring that the government is enforcing this policy; maybe it would be slightly less brutal if the government used its own staff versus private contractors, but I doubt it.  Dead is dead, after all, and the same bureaucratic box-checking among private contractors would, if anything, be even more pronounced coming from government agents.

Frosty elites, deadly policies, corporate greed—Humane captures all of them well, while also being a downright entertaining movie.  Who will get killed?  Who will live?  Will the unsteady alliance between siblings win out?  Is the real euthanasia the friends we made along the way?

Give Humane a watch yourself and find out.