Why A.I. Artificial Intelligence Is Built on a Lie

Since I am a passionate watcher of science fiction cinema, besides discovering new territories, I often allow myself to revisit films from years past. I’m simply curious about how a film will affect me after a longer passage of time. Recently, when I refreshed my memory of Spielberg’s A.I. Artificial Intelligence, I faced quite a disappointment. I came to the conclusion that something about this film just doesn’t work. I felt it already during the screening. What bothers me in particular is the portrayal of the child and the meaning that portrayal carries.

I remember that moment perfectly. The moment of inflating the balloon in the name of promoting Spielberg’s latest creation. The master of popular cinema was returning to science fiction after years away from the genre. No one had better credentials to deliver another spectacular sci-fi experience. In the 1970s, Spielberg revolutionized the subject, changing the way we approach the idea of contact with alien life. In the 1980s, he went even further, letting us befriend an alien. In the 1990s, he successfully resurrected dinosaurs, creating yet another revolution in entertainment cinema.

The new decade, too, was supposed to belong to him. Dusting off Stanley Kubrick’s shelved idea, he decided this time to dress it in a cyberpunk costume and tell a story about the relationship between humans and a thinking, humanoid machine. The screenplay was based on Brian Aldiss’s short story Supertoys Last All Summer Long, which, to put it simply, is a sci-fi transposition of Pinocchio. Spielberg teamed up once again with his trusted collaborator, Janusz Kamiński, who did the cinematography. For the leading role, he cast Haley Joel Osment, then in high demand after The Sixth Sense. What could possibly go wrong?

Don’t treat this text as a review. I don’t intend to break A.I. Artificial Intelligence down into its components. I only want to tell you what lies at the heart of my deep disappointment. And I’m not alone in this—because, as you probably remember, A.I. Artificial Intelligence was an expensive film ($100 million budget), and with critics divided, it struggled to turn a profit. In other words—the audience simply didn’t like it. Perhaps some of them noticed the same thing I did.

The film rests on a very strange and, I’d say, highly unrealistic concept. According to it, parents who have lost a child—physically or emotionally—will in the future be able to take advantage of an engineering breakthrough and welcome into their home an artificial replacement for their offspring. The child android would behave like a child, speak like a child, think like a child and, most importantly, love like a child. To me, however, this premise is absurd and false.

As a parent of two children, I know my role is to prepare my little ones, still sprouting from the ground, to one day become adults. Childhood is therefore a process that I, as a father, observe and, when needed, intervene in, to guide them in the right direction. A being born of love is not a doll to cuddle, nor a construct to satisfy my emotional needs. It is a growing plant which, thanks to my watering, is meant to bloom. Of course, the bond we share is undeniable, but it is nonetheless the result of a process in which both of us participate—a process of becoming human. Such a relationship cannot be formed with a little android, which raises an ethical question: why create such an android at all?

I write this also as a parent who now faces the dilemma of sending one of his children to preschool for the first time. Truly, what seems an obvious step has become one of the hardest choices of my life. All my efforts, all the energy I put into raising my child, will now be confronted with an institution whose purpose is to adapt children to society. This is, then, the first stage in the long road of cutting the symbolic umbilical cord and sending the child into the world. Despite the overwhelming need for control, as a parent you also know that trustfully introducing your child into a community is what’s best for them—so that they slowly grow and become someone, rather than remain stagnant in their initial form.

That is why I cannot understand what drove the creators of A.I. Artificial Intelligence to bring to life the figure of a child android. Mortal parents will age, but David will always remain at the starting point. To say that this is boring and stagnant is an understatement. The film’s meticulously crafted sentimentality is therefore built on a plain lie. Watching it is difficult, because we can’t help but feel sorry for the protagonist, given the way he is treated. But to be honest with myself, I cannot see this as anything but manipulation. Spielberg feeds on our emotions, forcing a specific reaction from us, without really caring that, at its core, the film doesn’t hold up even as a metaphor. If you think, as I do, that David’s place is on the scrapheap of history, then there’s nothing wrong with that. After all, he only pretended to be a child, without having anything truly in common with one. But then, who is the parent who would want to buy themselves the illusion of parenthood?