100 Years: The Movie That Will Be Shown in 2115 — A Film Locked Away for a Century

In 2015, two of Hollywood’s most distinctive minds — actor and writer John Malkovich and director Robert Rodriguez — joined forces to create a film that none of their contemporaries would ever see. The result was “100 Years: The Movie You Will Never See,” a cinematic time capsule locked away in an advanced vault that won’t open until November 18, 2115. Its concept is as strange as it is profound: a story made today, gifted to the people of tomorrow.

The Vision Behind the Vault

Commissioned by the French luxury brand Louis XIII Cognac, the film was inspired by the company’s own process of aging its spirit for one hundred years before release. Rodriguez and Malkovich took that idea and asked a radical question — can storytelling itself be aged like fine art? The project became a reflection on legacy, patience, and the passage of time. It forces us to confront our place in history, reminding us that art can outlive both its creator and its audience.

Malkovich described it as an artistic gesture toward the future. “We wanted to imagine what life might look like a century from now,” he said in interviews surrounding the project. “It’s not about us seeing it — it’s about someone else discovering it.” This sentiment transforms the movie into an offering, a sealed message meant to whisper across generations.

The Making of a Hidden Film

Filming took place under tight secrecy in 2015, with Rodriguez’s signature cinematic style — minimalist yet deliberate — shaping every frame. Only a handful of people have seen the footage. One master copy was produced and placed into a custom-designed safe. This vault was built to resist heat, humidity, and natural decay, ensuring that the movie survives even if much of the present world doesn’t.

Before being sealed in France, the vault itself became a symbol of curiosity and speculation. It was displayed at the Cannes Film Festival, drawing attention from film lovers, futurists, and philosophers alike. The idea of a film intentionally withheld for a century sparked both admiration and confusion. Around 1,000 metallic invitations were distributed to notable individuals, each designed to serve as a family heirloom — granting descendants access to the premiere in 2115.

The Teasers: Three Futures, Three Worlds

To feed curiosity, Rodriguez released three official teasers titled “Nature,” “Retro,” and “Future.” Each one depicts a drastically different vision of what the world could become: a green utopia reclaimed by nature, a dystopian metallic wasteland, and a hyper-technological civilization ruled by machines. None of these clips reveal the real film — they merely suggest possibilities. The ambiguity itself is the art.

Art or Marketing?

Critics have debated the project’s intent. Was it a marketing stunt for a luxury brand, or a genuine act of creative futurism? The truth, as with many forms of avant-garde art, likely lies somewhere in between. Louis XIII’s identity is built on craftsmanship and patience — aging cognac for a century before anyone can drink it. By turning that philosophy into cinema, the brand redefined how marketing can interact with art.

Yet there’s something undeniably sincere about the idea. To create something you’ll never see finished — that’s not just branding; it’s faith. It’s the belief that beauty still matters even when no one is around to applaud it. And in a time when movies are consumed, reviewed, and forgotten within days, 100 Years stands defiantly against the culture of immediacy.

The Ethical and Philosophical Weight

The idea of withholding art for 100 years challenges modern expectations. It raises questions about preservation: Will the technology to play a 2015 digital film even exist in 2115? Will humanity still gather to watch movies in dark rooms? Or will cinema itself have evolved into something unrecognizable — holographic, neural, or entirely virtual?

These uncertainties add layers of meaning. The film is not merely about the future — it depends on the future. It’s an artistic gamble that assumes civilization will still care about storytelling a century from now. It’s also a confrontation with mortality: everyone involved in the film will be long gone when it’s finally seen. The creators built an artifact of faith, trusting that their voices will echo in an age they can’t imagine.

The Cultural Conversation

Comparisons have been drawn to Norway’s Future Library Project, where authors like Margaret Atwood and David Mitchell have written manuscripts that will remain unread until 2114. Both endeavors operate on the same principle: delayed revelation. They ask us to think about art as an inheritance rather than a commodity. Instead of demanding instant gratification, they cultivate anticipation and reverence.

In that sense, 100 Years serves as a mirror to our cultural impatience. In an era dominated by streaming platforms and viral content, this project stands apart as a meditation on waiting. It insists that meaning ripens with time — and that some stories need to be told slowly, even if the storytellers themselves will never hear the applause.

Documented Reality and Mystery

Major news outlets — including The Hollywood Reporter, Vanity Fair, Wired, and BBC — have verified the project’s details: the film’s production, its collaboration with Louis XIII, and the existence of the automated vault in Cognac, France. The company has confirmed the date of release and the number of invitations. Yet, details about the story, cast, and visual design remain deliberately concealed.

There’s an eerie symmetry in that secrecy. The less we know, the more meaning we project. The vault becomes a modern myth — a silent monument to trust, memory, and imagination. It may never achieve the fame of Citizen Kane or 2001: A Space Odyssey, but it already occupies a unique corner of cinematic history: a movie defined entirely by its absence.

What It Means for the Future of Art

When the vault finally opens in 2115, humanity will be fundamentally different. The Earth’s climate, languages, and social values will have evolved beyond recognition. The movie will not just be a story — it will be a time machine, capturing how 2015 imagined the far future. Whether the audience laughs, weeps, or feels alienated, one thing will be certain: they will be watching a message from ghosts.

And that’s what makes 100 Years so hauntingly beautiful. It transcends entertainment and becomes a dialogue between centuries — a cinematic letter written by one civilization to another. It’s a reminder that art’s greatest power lies not in its visibility, but in its endurance.

Conclusion: A Whisper Across Centuries

In an age where everything is instant, 100 Years is a whisper that says, “Wait.” It is a film built on the audacity of patience. It teaches us that not all art is made for the present, and not all value is immediate. Some things — perhaps the most meaningful ones — must be given to time itself.

When that vault door finally opens in 2115, the world will look upon a century-old reflection of its own future. And somewhere in the echoes of that unveiling, the spirit of John Malkovich, Robert Rodriguez, and every unseen hand behind the film will murmur one timeless truth — patience is also art.