The idea of Stanley Kubrick – stereotyped as the cold, perfectionist master of serious cinephiles everywhere – and Steven Spielberg – the reigning populist filmmaker of the last three decades – being close friends might strike some as unlikely. Yet Kubrick and Spielberg were mutual admirers of each other's work. They would supposedly have hours long phone conversations. A frequent topics of these talks was a project Kubrick had been kicking around since the seventies, an adaptation of Brian Aldiss' short story “Super-Toys Last All Summer Long.” Envisioned as a sci-fi reimagining of “Pinocchio,” Kubrick had burned through several writers before discussing the project with Spielberg, whose tone he hoped to emulate. By the end of the nineties, it seemed Kubrick was finally getting ready to make the film... When, of course, he passed away. As a tribute to his late friend, Spielberg decided to make the movie, now known as “A.I. Artificial Intelligence,” his next film. The blending of Spielberg's and Kubrick's sensibilities has divided and fascinated critics in the two decades since its release.
Two hundred years from now, sea levels have risen and coastal cities have been devastated. To compensate for the reduced population, advanced robots – known as Mecha – have emerged. One of the leading providers of Mecha is Cybertronics Inc., led by Professor Hobby. His latest brainchild is David, an advanced Mecha who can replicate love meant to replace deceased children. As a test run, David is given to Monica and Henry Swinton, Cybertronics employees whose son is in a coma and unlikely to awake. Monica quickly grows attached to David, the robot bonding with her. Yet when their biological son miraculously recovers, David is put in a difficult situation. Monica eventually abandons the young robot in the woods. Inspired by the story of “Pinocchio,” David goes on a futile quest to find the legendary Blue Fairy that can make him a real boy and worthy of Monica's love.
Like all good science fiction, “A.I. Artificial Intelligence” uses futuristic and imaginative ideas to ask universal questions. The set-up of the film, of a robot programmed to love, forces us to ask the question of what humanity even is. Do the roles we choose in our lives only exist because other people designed them for us? David was created to fill the role of a dead or missing child, to “love” his parents the way a natural born kid would. He is literally programmed to act like this, fulfilling a purpose that he's specifically been designed for. All the Mecha serve a purpose in “A.I.,” from the sex robots like Gigolo Joe to the various blue collar worker models we see. The choice of free will is ostensibly what separates actual intelligence from artificial intelligence. When David pursues his mother, regardless of her abandoning him, he moves towards his own destiny, raising the question of how human this robot is. And how human we are.
Few filmmakers have spent the time examining the effects of broken homes on the mind of young boys the way Steven Spielberg has. In David, the director finds the ultimate lonely boy. The android's need to be loved is absolute. His entire world revolves around needing his mother's love. When she rejects him, it's heartbreaking. Not just because we're seeing a mother willingly give up her child but also because he's entirely unable to understand the reasoning why. To David, his mother is everything and he can't even imagine a world without her. That makes his cries for her pathetic, as he clings to her leg and begs to be accepted again. All throughout the film, David refers to Monica as “mommy,” seemingly emphasizing how childish his total devotion is to her. There's no way for him to become a “real” boy, as the Blue Fairy isn't real. She's only a fairy tale. This makes David's quest especially futile, making his journey all the more tragic.
An issue facing real world roboticians is the Uncanny Valley. The more human-like a robot is, the more likely it is to creep people out. “A.I.” is aware of this and plays with it in interesting ways. David is creepy. His attempts to copy his human “brother” scarfing down spinach are off-putting. When a pool party goes horribly wrong, David is left stranded at the bottom of a pool, starring upward with his mouth agape. Haley Joel Osmond, giving another performance showing an intuition you'd think would be beyond his years, finds the ideal balance between being sympathetic and unsettling. All of the Mecha in the film are like this, attention being paid to their make-up or movement to assure us that they aren't quite human. Rather then presenting us with robots that perfectly fit in among flesh-and-blood people “A.I.” forces us to ask whether we'd be able to accept these inhuman creations ourselves.
Yet maybe this is an example of the biggest problem "A.I." faces. The audience never one hundred percent buys into its world. While Spielberg is practically synonymous with science fiction movies, this was actually the first movie he made set in a futuristic world. The results are surprisingly hokey at times. The robots all being referred to as "Mecha," instead of just robots or "synthetics" or something like that, couldn't help but strike me as goofy. It's not a word that ever seems natural coming out of the actors' mouth. Rogue mecha are pursued by "hounds," which I first assumed to be robotic doglike machines, such as those seen in "Fahrenheit 451." Instead, hounds are guys on day-glo motorcycles with metal dog skulls on their stirring wheels, which they use to tear away at walls. That's, at best, really impractical and, at worst, the kind of goofy, overly literal world play that sci-fi of this level should probably be above.
Some of the limitations of the film's sci-fi setting are part of the inevitable problem facing the genre: What seemed futuristic twenty years ago seems hopelessly out-of-date now. For example, the pivotal scene where Monica abandons David is proceeded by a moment of them driving around in a cramped, awkwardly designed solar powered car. Now we know that the cars of the future probably won't look that different from the cars of today, rendering this design laughable. The most laughable moment in "A.I." happens when David and Gigolo Joe visit a business where a holographic search engine answers questions within a comically abbreviated set of options. I guess even the best futurists in 2001 couldn't have predicted that, two decades later, we'd all just have Google in our pockets.
Then again, perhaps it's unfair to treat "A.I." as wholly science fiction. The story is clearly patterned after a fairy tale. We see this not just in the direct, stated parallels to "Pinocchio" but in the archetypal roles the characters inhabited. David is accompanied on his journey by Teddy, his Jiminy Cricket that operates as a wise, slightly gruff companion. Gigolo Joe is the rogue that the boy befriends, an off-color mentor that acts as a guide to the seedier side of this world. A world that, it must be said, is not horribly concerned with realism. The Rouge City sequence is a candy-colored Vegas of neon lighting and improbable architecture, obviously meant to invoke a dream-like feeling. (Further emphasized by the somewhat washed out, misty look of the cinematography.) The Dr. Know search engine is a wise old elder that leads the hero towards the final leg of his quest. It's clear that "A.I." was devoted to the fairy tale structure it announces early on, when you notice that the walls of a hospital are painted with figures from well-known stories.
While "A.I.'s" commitment to the "Pinocchio" motif definitely gives it the mythic qualify Spielberg was clearly aiming for, this has its downside. I've never been satisfied with the end of the film's second act. The Dr. Know search engine gives David the exact information he needs, through a rather unlikely intervention. The sequence that follows has David confronting his origins and learning a shocking truth, which leads the robot boy to drastic measures. It all feels very messy to me, the movie never quite finding a natural way to transition from its main story to its far-flung finale. This is the sequence where you most remember that Kubrick spent years fine-tuning "A.I.'s" story and was never entirely happy with its construction. The script structure honestly feels unfinished to me.
Of course, "Artificial Intelligence" is a beautifully composed film. Spielberg's direction and Janusz Kaminski's cinematography is impressive. The most memorable shot in the film is a lengthy tracking shot, following Teddy as he's carried through the backstage of the Flesh Fair. It's not just a moment of impressive visual trickery but also sustains the suspense, as the audience is dragged along with the character as a solution to their problem remains up in the air. John Williams creates a score that is equal parts mysterious and wistful, capturing the implacable quality of its protagonists and their feelings, as well as the childlike longing David feels. (Even if I think the end credits aria is maybe a little too melodramatic.)
The cast is top shelf as well. I don't know if there's any child actor in 2001 that could've played David other than Haley Joel Osment. Much like his performance in "The Sixth Sense," he shows a balance of naturalism and deeper grasping of the material that you don't always get from mature actors. This film also provides us with a star-making role from Jude Law, as Gigolo Joe. The sequence that introduces the character, depicting how he puts an uncertain client at ease, makes for an excellent short film in its own right. The Gene Kelly-like dance moves Law gives the character, the effortless sense of poise and slickness he possesses, reminds you why Law was a massively trumpeted talent for a while. I would've happily watched a whole movie about this character.
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