A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)
Yes, Stanley Kubrick is spinning in
his grave.
What we have here is a hybrid film,
half Kubrick, half Spielberg and the conflict between
the two cause the film to disintegrate during it's
last 30 minutes, when the evil Hollywood, I-just-want-to-be-loved
Spielberg takes over.
"A.I." was a pet project of Kubrick's
that he had been working on for ages. I remember hearing
about this film when "Full Metal Jacket" came out
in the 80's. Kubrick wanted to make it, but insisted
that cinematic technology needed to advance before
he would even attempt it. He had apparently contacted
Spielberg after "Jurassic Park" came out and the two
worked on plans for the film for some time. When Kubrick
died, Spielberg simply asserted his Hollywood power
and took over the film.
One thing Kubrick did not have in his
lifetime really, that makes the film want desperately
to succeed, is Haley Joel Osment. Fuck technology.
Osment is "A.I." He is awesome. This film again proves
my assertion that Osment is the best young actor since
Freddie Bartholomew. He is simply amazing here and
never misses a beat. He is the only thing in the entire
film that allows you to buy into the proceedings for
one second.
The film is pretty much divided up
into three acts with the first being very Kubrickian,
the mid-section being partially Kubrick, partially
Spielberg and a little bit of Mad Max and George Lucas
thrown in. But it is the abysmal 3rd act, which is
all Spielberg that sends the film in a nose dive into
oblivion. Spielberg simply takes over the film, asserting
his predominantly Hollywood fable-loving mentality
over the conclusion so that it becomes this sort of
horrid amalgam of "E.T.," "Close Encounters" and "Elephant
Man." It is some of the most God-awful big-budget
crap to be foisted on the American public since, well,
since "Pearl Harbor" anyway.
The first section is very reminiscent,
in style, of both Kubrick's "The Shining" and "Eyes
Wide Shut." Kubrick's essence is quite nicely felt.
When Osment appears, things really begin to get interesting
and the film sets up for a wonderful story about unconditional
love and grief that owes much to Issac Asimov, "The
Stepford Wives" and "Pinocchio." There seems a great
groundwork for a film here. The tension in the section
is right on target.
But midway through the first section,
an event happens which is a horrible misstep. A character
motivation for Osment is established that makes the
film's themes sort of disappear and retreat. This
first section ends with a totally unbelievable sequence
of events that has the "mother" character doing things
that she simply would not do. It all goes haywire.
The mid-section seems really odd after
all this set-up, yet it shows promise as well. Here,
we concentrates on the conditions of a world filled
with mechanical robots where they are hunted and killed
for sport and where the plot becomes sort of an allegory
for racism. Again, there is much wasted opportunity
here as the established themes are never truly solidified
and essayed. The film simply seems to careen around,
jumping out of bounds many times in an effort to move
forward. As in the first part, much is glossed over
and much becomes unbelievable.
The finale' of the film is nothing
short of ridiculous as 2,000 years pass and the film
finds itself struggling to try and tie up it's myriad
loose ends. It simply does not succeed. It becomes
so convoluted and so ridiculous as to be laughable.
Spielberg must have been right out of his mind when
he wrote and lensed this section. Even Osment can't
seem to tune in to a correct way to essay the part.
The whole damn framework collapses around him here.
This film is a house of cards blown asunder by a wind
of Spielbergian idiocy one has to see to believe.
I myself was so dumbfounded by the film and my mind
so addled by it's ridiculous conclusion that I nearly
got into a car accident leaving the parking lot of
the megaplex. I should really sue Spielberg. Someone
should. For Kubrick's sake. For the sake of cinema.
Note:
Also with Jude Law and William Hurt.
Music by, ugh, John Williams, who thinks
he's scoring "E.T." again
