Has there ever been a more terrifying issue approached with such mundane familiarity than Interstellar's slow eco-apocalypse? When you think dystopian cinema, you think the garish neon of a choking LA in Blade Runner, or the ostentatiously Orwellian architecture of the city at the heart of Brazil. Interstellar, however, offers a much sadder, more recognisable look at humanity's struggle in the near-future. In Interstellar, the Earth has become a dustbowl, with resources scarce, and people, now many of them farmers, living on the only few crops that still grow. Interstellar's Earth is a world coated in dirt. Here, there are no more armies, there's no more space programme, and there are definitely no more hotdogs at baseball games. What's left is a planet full of people trying to live out a facade of normal life while putting all their effort into making sure there's just enough food to go around. New generations are now simply 'caretakers' of the almost all dried-up globe, inhabitants of a dystopian future facing the ultimate oppression: there is no place to escape to.