n the future, the polar icecaps have melted, coastal cities have flooded, and Earth is barely able to sustain its burgeoning population. Childbearing is strictly regulated. In place of the planet's working class, technology has devised a race of robots, so-called mechas, who fill society's menial jobs--and meet some of its more prurient needs.
Prof. Allen Hobby (Hurt) wants to take things further: He proposes a mecha child designed to love, an artificial substitute for couples who don't have permission to conceive a child of their own. Hobby's proposal raises a moral question: Can a human love such a creation back?
Months later, Henry (Sam Robards) and Monica Swinton (O'Connor) are troubled by the near-loss of their young son, Martin (Jake Thomas), who lies cryogenically preserved until science can come up with a cure for his illness. Henry, who works for Hobby, decides to bring home a prototype mecha child to take Monica's mind off of Martin. That child is David (Osment).
At first, Monica is outraged--and a little creeped out. But she eventually warms to David, and makes a fateful decision. She will allow David to "imprint" on her--to love her. A few words, a touch at the back of the neck, and David suddenly changes. He softens, he calls Monica "Mommy," he embraces her and professes his deep, abiding love.
But something else happens: Medicine has advanced enough for Martin to return home. Now Monica has two "sons." And Martin's not entirely pleased with his new "brother."
When things don't go as hoped, Monica is faced with a wrenching decision regarding David. And David soon finds that the world isn't as simple as he thought. Mechas and "orgas" (organics) have a troubled relationship. With only his belief in the fairy tale Pinocchio to guide him, and with the help of a robot teddy bear and a worldly mecha (Law), David sets out on a quest to find the love he believes is eternal.
Unquestionably, a new SF classic
As is well known by now, A.I.: Artificial Intelligence is the highly anticipated SF movie based on an outline by the late Stanley Kubrick and the short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long!" by SF author Brian Aldiss. SF author Ian Watson, who reportedly worked closely with Kubrick before that director's untimely passing, receives a story credit on the film.
The literary pedigree shows: A.I. is one of the clearest examples of hard science fiction ever filmed, extrapolating a future based on real science and employing its intriguing premise as a potent metaphor for the human condition.
But the film is also a powerful cinematic melding of Spielberg's sentimentality and Kubrick's austerity, Pinocchio by way of 2001. It's as if one filmmaker serves as an antidote for the weaknesses of the other: A.I. is moving without being cloying, and thought-provoking without being off-putting.
On the one hand, the film reflects Spielberg's love of the human face and his use of atmospheric lighting to heighten the emotion of a scene--not to mention John Williams' at-times swelling score. On the other hand, the film follows Kubrick's languid pacing, formal composition and occasionally detached point of view--and Williams' score sometimes echoes the atonality of György Ligeti, one of Kubrick's favorite composers.
A.I. is almost cavalier in the way it deploys its massive visual effects, a casual use of amazement. Rather than using such effects as set pieces, the film employs them instead where they serve the story and characters, and they always feel completely organic to the narrative. (A word of warning: Parents should not be fooled by the Spielberg pedigree or Osment's presence into thinking that A.I. is intended for younger children. It's not, and contains some gruesome violence and disturbing emotional scenes.)
Most important, A.I. defies conventional movie form and storytelling, which may strike some viewers as a flaw. The film takes its time to unfold, and its tonal shifts are jarring. The extended first act is a domestic fairy tale; the second a descent into a nightmare; and the third an ambiguous and lengthy coda that compares with the dream-like ending of 2001. One principal character doesn't even appear until an hour into the movie, and A.I. feels as if it's about to wrap up at least twice before it actually does.
All of which serves to undercut expectations about where the story is headed and what exactly the film is saying, which is a lot. Like 2001 before it, A.I. is likely to generate heated debate and little agreement about its mixed messages of love, responsibility, faith, redemption and what it means to be human--and that's all good. Ambitious, audacious and original, A.I. is bound to become a science fiction classic.
