This thematically classic science fiction tale, elements of which are vaguely Asimovian, was originally conceived of by Kubrick and passed onto Spielberg (a filmmaker whose reputation may equal Kubrick's by the time his career is done) by Kubrick's estate following the late filmmaker's death in March 1999. Kubrick is cleverly inserted into the credits several times over, either directly or indirectly, and there were "insider" reports that, in the years leading up to A.I.'s eventual production, Kubrick had been actively in contact with Spielberg about how best exactly to do the movie.

      Ultimately, though, it was this collaboration that did the film in, because Kubrick and Spielberg are filmmakers with completely different visions on life and humanity -- which is only important because A.I. focuses substantially on those two themes. The film, set well into the future after the polar icecaps have melted and humans have begun to rely on androids called Mechas to sustain their way of life, follows a Mecha named David (Haley Joel Osment) who is the first boy Mecha ever created. Programmed to exist as part of a family and love his parents as a human child might, there is predictably a mixed reaction among the humans leading to David's exile. It is there that David's true journey begins -- inspired by the classic tale Pinocchio, he aspires to find a mythical Blue Fairy who will turn him into a real boy.

      Along the way, Spielberg, who receives his first screenplay credit since 1982's Poltergeist, directs the audience's attention toward contemplation of the human existence numerous times. Indeed, this is the very epitome of a thinking man's movie, because Spielberg is almost constantly coaxing thought out of his audience. The rejection that the humans serve up toward David, the first sentient Mecha, is simply a new face for the same instances of social division that have plagued the human race since the beginning of civilization. (It's also a theme that's quite present in Spielberg's recent dramatic offerings -- films like Schindler's List, Amistad, and Saving Private Ryan all examined some sort of social division.)

      Much of the time, though, Spielberg also seems to feel obligated to pay homage to Kubrick, whose touch is very present throughout the film. Many of the darker elements (such as the so-called "Flesh Fairs," in which humans celebrate their humanity by destroying Mechas) do not coincide with Spielberg's more tactful approach to film; similarly, many of the more heartening moments in the movie (such as the last half-hour or so, when a boy is allowed to have one more day with his long-dead mother) do not coincide with Kubrick's cynical take on life and the human condition. This give-and-take isn't healthy for a film so thematically founded -- like its main character, A.I. is constantly searching for an identity, although unlike its main character, the movie never finds it.

      Which, of course, isn't to say that A.I. does not have its pleasing, even downright engaging moments. Haley Joel Osment, the infamous child star who may never outlive his role as the boy who could see dead people in The Sixth Sense, has proven here beyond a doubt that he can carry a movie; whether audiences are ready to accept him remains to be seen. (It may have thus been a serendipitous stroke of casting to have Osment play the boy David.) He makes several scenes work for Spielberg where a lesser child star may not have, and both he and costar Jude Law (who plays a Mecha whose purpose is the perfection of sexual favors for humans) thankfully master the technique of playing an android while not appearing to play an android.

      At over 150 minutes long, though, A.I. can't be carried on acting alone, and although most of the fundamentals are solid (cinematography, editing, and production design, to name a few), the story is the most obviously lacking component. Spielberg's desire to gear the movie toward the thematic resulted in a lacking narrative -- while the audience is given plenty to think about, there's no real context to frame it in, no basic story to surround it. (A.I. is one of those movies a viewer will look back on and be shocked to realize how little actually happened.)

      It's something of a shame, because every scene is pregnant with possibility, and the story seems to be hiding under a thin layer -- if only Spielberg had ruptured that layer in his creative process, the goods might've come flowing out onto paper and onto celluloid. But he did not, which makes his decision to avoid writing screenplays for nearly twenty years seem almost wise -- Spielberg is a director who is obviously more in tune with the telling of a tale than the tale itself.

      By the year 2001, though, a Spielberg production is almost on full autopilot. Spielberg's usual crew is on hand, from director of photography Janusz Kaminski and editor Michael Kahn to composer John Williams. This explains the stately, ultra-professional look that A.I. has, like the half-dozen Spielberg films to precede it, and the top-notch quality of the film on a basic, technical level. Even a gaggle of actors assembled for a Spielberg film seems somehow more inspired -- the droll William Hurt takes on a noble, prophetic tone in several of his lengthy speeches. Analysts will have a hard time finding fault with A.I. in this capacity.

      But all of these pale in comparison to the importance of a movie's story, which is the capacity that A.I. is most at fault in. If Spielberg had chosen a direction for his movie, or perhaps framed it better within the context of a more progressive story, he might've had another instant classic on his hands. Instead, his movie reeks of that other kind of A.I. -- the artificial importance that Stanley Kubrick seemed to build into all of his movies. A.I. takes itself too seriously for the unwieldly slow-moving thing that it is, and it will ultimately pay the price when viewers find it too dry for their liking.

Craig Roush, 2001