A. I. Artificial Intelligence
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| Rated: PG-13 |
2001 |
Color |
Time |
| Starring:
Haley Joel Osment, Jude Law, Frances O'Connor, Sam
Robards, Jake Thomas, Brendan Gleeson, Daveigh Chase, William Hurt, Jack Angel |
| Directed
by: Steven
Spielberg |
| Screenplay
by: Steven Spielberg |
| Screen
Story by: Ian Watson |
| short story
"Supertoys Last All Summer Long"
by:
Brian Aldiss
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| Music:
John Williams |
| Movie
Co.: Amblin Entertainment, DreamWorks SKG, Stanley Kubrick Productions,
Warner Bros. |
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Critique
Section
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Official Rating System:
Pathetic
Wimpy
Solid Super
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The A. I. Artificial Intelligence Store
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Reviews:
In
Awe of A.I.
by Michael Flanagan
Super
Questions.
I have questions.
Lots and lots of questions.
A.I., Steven Speilberg’s
first movie not based on a true story in years
(thankfully) is also his best in years.
Is this because it’s a combined effort with
the late Stanley Kubrick?
Or is it because Speilberg has grown into truly
extraordinary cinematic stature?
And what the heck are those things at the end?
Sorry, off topic.
A.I is a great film.
It embodies almost everything a movie-going
experience should be.
Entirely original in all of its elements,
watching this film is like going to the movies for the
first time. Its
plot at first seems unoriginal.
Actually, it brings to mind another Spielberg
movie that features two initials in the title.
Even the horrible slogan, “His love is real,
but he is not,” sounds corny and sentimental.
But once the movie launches, and it does launch,
it leaves behind any preconceived notions of
familiarity and cliché and enters its own world.
That world is one of questions.
The film basically opens with the
question, “What responsibility does a human have to
a robot that genuinely loves?”
Throughout A.I., we dissect and digest
this question and open it up into additional
questions, and sub clauses of those questions, and sub
clauses of those sub clauses, etc.
What responsibility do humans have to said
robot if they don’t know he loves?
What responsibility do humans have to each
other, once a loving robot is introduced?
What separates that robot from other robots?
And from humans?
By the time two hours have passed, we realize
that the silly slogan is actually a central

theme.
If his love is real, then isn’t he?
And if he is not real, then how can his love
be, as love is a quality of humans?
And if his love is returned, is that returned
love real, or is it as much of a fabrication as the
love for which he is programmed? If his love is never actually real, then wouldn’t that make
his entire quest pointless?
After all, he’s just a robot.
(The clichéd next line would be, “Or is
he?” Not
in this case. He
really is just a robot.)
The two and a half hour span of the film is
used to approach answers.
David, the loving robot played brilliantly by
soon-to-have-another-Oscar-nomination Haley Joel
Osment, endures a journey that takes him to the end of
the earth, a very purposeful literal statement.
He is accompanied by Teddy, a great character
that is basically Teddy Ruxpin of the future, and
Gigolo Joe, the sex mecha played by Jude Law giving a
possible Oscar-worthy performance of his own.
They encounter an amazing Kubrickian homage to
what today’s wrestling will one day be.
They also find the future’s equivalent of
Amsterdam, but with brighter lights and more obvious
sexual representation.
They encounter Dr. Know, voiced by Robin
Williams, a futuristic satire on the most annoying
qualities of an Internet search engine.
Finally, David enters the submerged Manhattan,
where Spielberg shows us some of the greatest visual
images he has ever put on screen.
The film’s ending is just as brilliant as its
premise. What
at first appears to be the return of Richard Dreyfuss
is actually the beginning of the answer to the
questions. In
a crafty bit of writing, Spielberg, who wrote the
script as well for the first time in over 20 years,
brings alien-like visitors to the future of the
future, but doesn’t identify them as aliens. They appear to be somewhat organic, but also somewhat
electronic, creating yet another question: Are these
the mechas of the future who now rule the ice-covered
planet, or are they aliens from another world?
Either way, their purpose is a brilliant piece
of storytelling that touches the deepest elements of
the human condition.
A.I. is a story.
From Ben Kingsley’s storybook narration to
its obvious connections to “Pinocchio” and “The
Velveteen Rabbit,” this film would be a true
modern-day fairy tale, except Stanley Kubrick and
Steven Spielberg created it. And both of their ideas are evident in the film, which at
times is chaotic.
Fortunately, the film is set amidst chaos, so
the struggling contrasts are well hidden.
And there are moments that lean too far in one
direction: the TRON-like hunting dogs seem like a
deleted scene from A Clockwork Orange and the
large moon-balloon reminds us all that Spielberg as a
patent on the entire “moon as cinematic art”
business. But
the final minutes of the film secure its place in the
trophy case. David
finally has his mother.
But is she real?
And is her love for him real?
The thematic questions of A.I. are left
unanswered, but it does a tremendous job of making us
ask.
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The film is
real... hard to get through: A.I. Artificial
Intelligence
by Christian De Matteo
Super
Steven
Spielberg's A.I. is, unquestionably a superb film. Not movie, but
film. It is a work of art to be marveled over:
challenging, intense and tightly, tightly crafted.
But, it is not
an easy watch. In fact, 80% of the film is
excruciating, not because of its length (which, by the
way, at least a half hour too long) but because the
movie combines Spielberg's ability to not only tug,
but play the harp on you heartstrings with Kubrick's
harsh, cynical and damning view of humanity.
Granted the former tempers the latter in many ways,
but oftentimes it merely makes it hit all the
harder. Whereas a Kubrick film can make you
shake you head and think how terrible a human being's
actions were, Spielberg makes you feel horrible for
all the characters "good" and
"bad" (and frequently neither and both)
making the painful scenes all the more painful.
Imagine Kubrick and Spielberg merging into one person
and scripting and filming a mother abandoning her
adoring child... hurts just to think about it, doesn't
it?
Meet A.I.,
gut-wrenching, harsh, and greatly depressing, the film
attempts to terrify and shame us into being more
careful with science, ripping at our innards with the
message, "Don't play God."
Haley Joel
Osment (The Sixth Sense) is a perfect child for
Spielberg to direct, bringing up all the sentimental
emotions that are often Spielberg's Achilles heel with
poise and reality that lends credibility to what
sometimes comes of Spielberg as schlocky. Acting
with his face and his heart, almost nothing seems out
of his ability to make us pain for, smile at or
understand his motivations. Jude Law (Gattaca)
lends the comic touch that Spielberg loves perfectly
and, again, realistically for the plot, playing his
Gigolo-bot
to perfection. Topped off with a stupendous performance
by Frances O'Connor (Bedazzled) as a mother
torn, who makes us feel every last strike of her
emotional battering, the film pushes forth its point
powerfully, twisting the knife with every step.
And for this reason,
I can't raise it above a Super-- and one, that is,
just above a high Solid-- despite the brilliance of
the film. It accomplishes exactly what it
desires, for which it deserves many applauds, but at
the cost of my viewing experience, which was
pained. The ending goes on too long, and hurts
as much as the rest, and by the end of the film the
viewer feels he himself has been physically and
emotionally abused. A cautionary tale at its
height, you will feel warned and scared by the end...
but you will also feel unduly exhausted and wonder if
the point couldn't have been made a bit quicker.
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