No other film from 2001 sparked nearly the same unanimous critical response as did A.I. Artificial Intelligence. The critics were, for the most part, affectionate and curiously indifferent. What I could never understand was why film lovers and critics alike didn’t recognize this film’s overwhelming sense of creative joy. Has there ever been a film that looked and danced quite like this one? I’d bet against it. There are certainly greater films than A.I., but few of them are as visually joyful. It is my contention that this film will be admired and placed high atop the lists of greatest films in the years to come. It seems to me that this is a film that was highly misunderstood upon its initial release.
The film that I am immediately reminded of when I think of A.I. , is The Battleship Potemkin. Unlike A.I., Potemkin was hailed as a classic from the start. It was banned from Russia because of its uncommon violence and left-wing political agenda, and it has been quoted endlessly throughout twentieth century film. Both films contain scenes of great cinematic beauty and both films have been criticized for the flaws in their respective structures. Yet, with that said, I believe A.I. has a centerpiece, just as Potemkin contains one, of immediate urgency and grand visionary splendor.
The great sweeping sequence of The Battleship Potemkin, the Odessa Steps massacre, is told in such a straightforward and heartlessly detailed way as to leave the audience in utter horror. To have been at the first viewings of the film must have been quite an experience. The sequence, which, if you haven’t seen it, go out and find the film immediately(I won’t describe the sequence here), is revolutionary in its technique, and its cinematographic work. And the sequence in A.I. when the robot boy is abandoned in the woods, chased by robot scavengers, and led to a cruel and horrifying circus where robots (mecchas) are brutally torn apart, is in its own way just as frightening. As real as the mecchas are, it would seem that any decent people inhabiting A.I.’s world are probably missing the innocence of the WWF, and the comparatively harmless attitudes displayed therein.
As terrifying as Potemkin is in its centerpiece, the final third of the film is endlessly forgettable (though the first segment of the film is memorable). The Potemkin’s reason for being is simply the taught, heartbreaking steps sequence, and little else. The sequence is so powerful that the film is rightly remembered. A.I., on the other hand, has a centerpiece that is equal parts operatic, frightening, and joyful.
Years from now, film lovers will watch A.I. with great joy and gratitude for Spielberg’s achievement. Sure, Spielberg’s warm and fuzzy approach may conflict with Kubrick’s cynicism, but I believe Kubrick would’ve loved the film Spielberg produced from his brainchild. Spielberg’s little meccha is more human than the Hal 9000 any day, and no other film has used an autobot teddy bear in quite the same fashion. The film is a masterpiece, warts and all, and hey, if a film like Battleship Potemkin can get away with selling a message of communism using a breathtaking action sequence, then certainly a film with the only flaw present a conflict between the warm and the dark, can be openly and defiantly considered a grand, bold masterpiece.
