Ya Mama!
A.I. represents a historic landmark in modern
cinema: it is an adult Steven Spielberg returning to the fantasy world of children after
taking a ten-year break to tackle subjects like slavery, World War II, and the Holocaust.
(Break in thought: Most people would argue against the emotional depth and/or maturity of
the Jurassic Park films. But I believe that they are the defining works in the
recent man vs. genetically-enhanced nature trend. Both films, particularly the first,
thoughtfully examined not only the implications of science but also of its
commercialization. Plus, it was awe-inspiring and thrilling. So put that in your pipe and
smoke it.) This is not just any fantasy world mind you, but one envisioned by the late,
great Stanley Kubrick. The film, which chronicles the journey a boy robot yearning to be
real, looks at the human relationship with God, the paradoxes of technology, and the
implications of unconditional love. And it's not as though either artists haven't examined
these subjects individually in the past. Now, however, the dream world of Spielberg has
collided with the nightmare vision of Kubrick to create a story that will go down in the
books as unparalleled.
The story begins with Dr. Hobby (William Hurt)
describing his desire to see a machine capable of love. Yes, his God-complex is on flaming
display but his dialogue goes to the extent of actually rationalizing it as opposed to the
pat "I WILL CREATE" mentality of other screenplay's in the same vein.The
creation is David (Osment), a robot who is programmed to have unwavering love for its
owner. Or it's first owner, to be more correct. They turn out to be a couple (O'Conner and
Sam Robards) who have just lost their only child to an incurable, comatose state. Mom ends
up saying the magic words that captures David's heart and soul. Here is our first example
of a conflict within the collaboration: I believe Kubrick wanted more of a Freudian twist
on the mother-son relationship. There are images and insinuations that suggest this yet
Spielberg chooses to sentimentalize these moments by filming their scenes together
drenched in sun light and by jacking up the Williams on the soundtrack. Many may roll
their eyes, but this technique allows for a more damaging blow to occur later when the
parents abandon David in the woods after he appears to have turned bad. ("If he
could learn to love, what will keep him from learning to hate", Dad asks.)
The second part of the film introduces David to Gigolo
Joe (Law), a robot that has been designed to pleasure. David recruits Joe to help him find
the Blue Fairy. If we all know our fairy tales, we already know that the Blue Fairy is the
figure that helps Pinocchio turn from puppet to child. And since Joe is a self-proclaimed
experts on the wants and needs of everything, he agrees to take David into Rogue City, a
Vegas-like hell hole that is ran (or overran) by robots. It is this section of the film
where the audience is allowed to contrast the optimistic aspects of technology against its
negative effects on humanity. These machines have made the human species more dependant
upon short-term emotional gain and more intolerant of flaws in others. This is displayed
through an incredibly intense scene in an arena that suggests a splicing of the XFL with Battle
Bots. Yes, there has been a wedge placed between these people and their emotional
responses. But no, human beings will always have the ability to hold on to it and use it
no matter what is put in front of them. It's a great scene that may also be used as an
example of taking the dark themes of the piece and not allowing the visual effects to
overwhelm them.
The final segment is the most ambitious and also the
trickiest to pull off. David and Joe travel to a Manhattan that has become immersed in the
run-off of the melted ice caps. The films delves head first into its key themes and does
not leave any religious or psychological stone unturned. In the end, you'll either buy the
Kubrick/Spielberg vision of humanity or you will totally reject it. I caught this flick in
a full theatre and you could almost feel the division form right there in the auditorium.
I heard sniffles and soft cries; I also heard people angrily declare their intent to ask
for their money back. I can imagine this was the same reaction that the Star Child
received in 2001. Or maybe the way people left the theatre after 1941.
Well, maybe not. But Rick Ferguson, a noted and former film critic, put it best when he
said that a film achieves a point of high art when it splits an audience in such a violent
fashion. It's topics are so controversial and its approach is so unique that any randomly
selected film goer will lie on one of the spectrum or another. Whatever you end up
thinking, I can promise that you've never seen or felt anything like it.
While the philosophical and ethical points may be
debated, the performances in the film flesh out the filmmaker's statements. Osment has an
almost impossible role of carrying the world's humanity on his shoulder, but there is no
point in the film where he does not remain in total control of his performance. And Law is
able to have a great deal of fun with his performance while needing to remain a symbol of
human-based lust. The performance that's most intriguing is O'Conner as the mother. In
early reviews, she has been criticized for being too shrill and too distant. But doesn't
that sound a lot like the heroines portrayed by Shelly Duvall in The Shining or
Nicole Kidman in Eyes Wide Shut? I say yes, and it goes along with the numerous
other details that Spielberg has taken from Kubrick's play book. And I believe that
Spielberg has even used this technique to flesh out some of his undeveloped ideas about
love from other films. Take Hook for instance, please. No seriously, in between
Dustin Hoffman doing William F. Buckley and the Goonies in Never Never Land,
there was a really interesting love story between Peter Pan and Tinker Bell. They loved
each other, but it was the type of love that was felt between children. That love
developed into something more romantic and intimate, but they were still separated between
their realities and the dreams they shared together. Now, we have David just wanting to be
loved by his mother who has rejected him. His search through the various peaks and valleys
of emotion for this love is heartbreaking. A child who's not even real searching for his
mother's love. Is there anything more tragic than this?
That is where I believe that Spielberg has evolved as
an artist. He can look at the cool, distant images and ideas and put a light on them that
creates an even deeper emotional connection. Or this review could just be a big, sloppy
love letter to two people that have influenced the films of my generation in a way that no
others could. Either way, A.I. stands as a work that allows us to see ourselves
in the things that we have created. For good or for bad, it is eye opening experience. |
