We’re off to see the wizard: Clutching his Teddy, David (Haley Joel Osment) and Gigolo Joe (Jude Law) are looking for love in A.I.: Artificial Intelligence./FONT>

Over the past decade, Steven Spielberg has rather awkwardly juggled his new-found passion for telling "important" stories with his formulaic genius for creating larger-than-life, special effects-driven fantasies. The man who virtually invented the term "blockbuster" with Jaws and the Indiana Jones trilogy seemed as if he’d heard a higher calling.

  In Schindler’s List, he told with dramatic sweep and artistic touch a compelling story, earning the Oscar an indifferent Hollywood had previously denied him. And while Saving Private Ryan was fairly overrated, it nevertheless showed him to be contemplating once again the war that spawned his generation. Bully for him. After all, he was keeping the masses happy with his Jurassic Park candy bars.

  What, then, to make of A.I.: Artificial Intelligence? For years, the late Stanley Kubrick had tinkered with this story of a futuristic society where we rely on – and perhaps expect too much of – androids. A.I. seemed a natural fit for Kubrick, who had long explored the apparent soullessness of man in such films as 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange. He and Spielberg became buddies back when they were working on the same lot on The Shining and Raiders of the Lost Ark, respectively. No doubt, fans assumed, Spielberg would do his old friend’s project justice.

  Somewhere between homage and instinct, though, Spielberg ended up in his own "lost world." Without another history lesson to tell, he is forced to both interpret Kubrick’s vision and place his own imprint on this story. In the battle for this film’s soul, Spielberg’s vision wins – making the film a qualified loser.

  The opening third of the film is pure Kubrick; Spielberg even shoots the scenes in a gauzy, almost hazy frost, as he introduces a young, futuristic suburban couple, Monica and Henry Swinton (Frances O’Connor, Sam Robards), grieving over their young comatose son. Professor Hobby (William Hurt), a robotics pioneer, chooses them as a test couple for his latest invention – an android son that can "love" – and Henry convinces Monica to give it a try.

  The boy, David (Haley Joel Osment), has been programmed by Hobby to be the perfect son. He’s obedient, he’s agreeable, he’s content. And, with the right family – and, it’s inferred, the right "programming" – he can love as well. Which is, of course, the rub, as one of Hobby’s colleagues
points out: "What obligation is there to
love him back?"

  The inability to answer that question serves as the springboard for the film, but somewhere after the first act, Spielberg takes a very Kubrickian idea steeped in intellectual curiosity and drowns it in a modern-day re-telling of Pinocchio. Spielberg’s shift from head to heart not only betrays the film’s title, but, one suspects, Kubrick’s best intentions. It’s like a cinematic bait and switch; one moment we’re watching a very human family trying to deal with questions of emotion, and the next, we’re off on yet another adolescent adventure that shows off Industrial Light & Magic visual techniques and only updates Pinocchio instead of reexamining it.

  After her coma-bound son awakens and returns home (surprise!), the adoptive mother reluctantly abandons David, who sets off to find out how he can become human and thus return home and be truly loved. Great. Good luck. Soon, he runs into the appropriately named Gigolo Joe (Jude Law, trying desperately to save the film with a solid performance). Joined by a robotic teddy bear (appropriately named "Teddy"), the trio is off to see whatever wizard can provide the answer to his problem.

  Along the way, they’re rounded up and taken to a carnival that trashes androids as a symbolic battle against the dehumanization of culture (with Brendan Gleeson doing a nice turn as the ringmaster). They escape to go in search of Dr. Know, who can provide the answer of how to become human – the only thing missing is the song, "If I Only Had a Heart" – which leads to a trip to a water-soaked Manhattan, where David runs into his creator, becomes entombed for years, and is sort-of reunited with his mother, and where … oh, just stop it. By now, Spielberg has decided that we need voice-over narration by a smarmy Robin Williams to guide through his oh-so-dense subject matter (Pinocchio being such a tough nut to crack and all).

  Rarely has a film started out with such interesting notions and gone into such a weird tailspin. If there’s anything good that comes out of this, it’s Osment, who is in 90 percent of the movie and does a great job shouldering an immense acting burden.

  Maybe Steven Spielberg should stick to historical revisionism and gimmicky, escapist franchises. Mixing "serious" subjects with fantasy only gets him lost.