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There’s no denying the intelligence of Steven Spielberg’s A.I. nor is there any denying of the film’s passion toward the subject of human responsibility toward technology. The subject broached isn’t a new one – Stanley Kubrick covered the same territory with 2001: A Space Odyssey – yet, A.I. (cleverly released in 2001) presents us with human twist to the aspect of responsibility toward our technology. What happens when the technology is, for all intents and purposes, so very human? It’s a film that usually incites some pretty strong reactions from its audience. Some appreciate the collaboration between Spielberg and the late Kubrick (a project he worked some twenty odd years on) and some don’t appreciate the shared vision. Regardless, there is no denying that the film is a masterpiece of mood and method.
Adapted from Brian Aldiss' 1969 short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long", A.I. tells the story of one family’s recovery from unexpected tragedy and their neglect of the technological humanity they’ve been presented with. Who am I kidding, though? That’s only a quarter of the narrative. David (Haley Joel Osment) is not – to borrow an idea from Pinocchio - the family’s real boy and yet, as designed by scientists, can receive and give love. He has been placed with the family to help with their grief. When their real son awakens from his coma, the family decides to put David and his electronic Teddy (voiced by Jack Angel) out to pasture and abandon him.
In the second act, the darkness of the story (the abandonment of a mother to her child) takes over and gnaws on each segment as David goes in search of the Blue Fairy (something he remembers from his mother’s readings of Pinocchio). David believes that only her powers can grant him his wish to become truly alive. It’s an unknown world he and Teddy embark upon. Yet, the distorted gloss of the future is suddenly present in fits of neon and Bladerunner-esque moments of landscapes and Rouge City dangers. Testing the strength of the audience, this change is maybe best represented by the pleasure mecha that is Gigolo Joe (Jude Law), a prostate-programmed robot designed to fulfill any female desire. Joe isn’t all for the sex action, though, as he joins David in his quest to become the human boy his mother will love.
And, in the third and final act, we see the consequence of human evolution. Yet, to reveal more would be unfair to the narrative and to those who have yet to see A.I. in all its glory. Are there problems here? Certainly. The leap into the future (2000 more years forward) seems a bit convenient and, if reports are to be believed, this is where Spielberg takes the story over from Kubrick with his own needs as a storyteller dominating and gives us a vision of David which some of us never needed. It’s his movie after all. It’s to be expected, though, because ever since Close Encounters of the Third Kind – a film Spielberg confesses that, if made today, would have a much different ending – he can’t seem to find an out that entirely works for the hardened souls among his audience. On more than one occasion, he extends the story and settles for the childlike awe factor or circumnavigates his problems with conclusions through the use of narrative bookends and skirts the problem altogether (although he recovers some of his mojo with the high of Munich). I’m no purist of Spielberg and I certainly have my limits when it comes to understanding some of his choices and associations (Michael Bay?? Shia LaBeouf??), but I recognize and celebrate him as a leader among the cinematic profession.
To say that A.I. is a fractured fairytale is a bit of an understatement. Certainly, the tale of Pinocchio is at its heart and is the driving force behind David’s quest for acceptance and love, yet the movie has a fair share of fits and bouts of growing pains before it decides to settle into that story. Divided into thirds, the film is easier to digest and relatively stronger in gaining an appreciation for as it never – even under the direction of Spielberg – smoothly navigates into each quarter of the film; the beginning feels very Spielberg with its white hazes and snowglobe-like atmosphere of discovery. It’s all very innocent and childlike – as it should be for an introduction. The middle sections feels a little more like the seedy Kubrick of Clockwork Orange (even if Spielberg took out the sex scenes with mecha Joe that Kubrick has intended), and the end is awash with moments of the two – though largely unbalanced - with even a little spacey George Lucas thrown into the mix.
Osment performance as the robotic boy is certainly one of the marvels of the film and works perfectly against Law’s masterful performance of Jiminy Cricket-incarnate. Both are beyond convincing as robots and in winning the audience over. Yet, the remarkable performances – based on where Spielberg eventually delves in the final act - merely result in asking questions about humanity and technology the film can’t possibly answer – which is completely unlike Kubrick. It’s a unique film to be sure, but – even at its three-hour running length – it certainly feels very, very incomplete.
