Oh man, I can't stand reading cut-and-paste posts, all that point/counterpoint, you say/I say stuff... so let me apologize up front for posting one just like that!

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| What was with Chris Rock's cameo? How unnecessary was that? |
I thought the Flesh Fair scene was both overwrought, on the one hand, and not nearly disturbing enough on the other. For me, it's the one weak point in the film. But Chris Rock's "cameo" was one of the elements I liked, and it's somewhat akin to the Robin Williams cameo. Williams turn as the animated "Dr. Know" is all part of the same riffing on the dark underbelly of our societal narratives - our faery tales. Because of William's acting/voicing history and the style of the animation, the first thing that comes to mind (if only unconsciously): Disney cartoons. And the second: The Wizard of Oz.
These stories are, arguably, our modern fables, our faery tales. They are among our first childhood story memories (for me anyway). And just as there are riffs on many other films in "a.i." (those in the Kubrick ouevre, as well as Spielberg's, but also "Singin In the Rain" and quite obviously "Pinocchio"), the Disney and Wizard tropes are intended to awaken a realization that there are often darker truths underlying these tales, realities that are covered up or relegated to subtext by their childish presentations. They ask us to look deeper into these narratives, because that's precisely what "a.i." will ultimately ask us to do.
Chris Rock didn't exactly do a cameo. He did a character: the shuckin', jivin', lip-smackin' Negro of old Hollywood. But his characterization is not simply intended as
uncomfortable comic relief (he is viciously destroyed, after all, in an "event" not unlike a public lynching). Rather, his characterization is also meant to call to mind all the dehumanizing depictions of blacks in the Golden Age of Hollywood, and his fate, and the joy taken in it by the crowd, is meant to draw a correlation between the way the orgas treat and view the mechas in the future with our own racist history. And like the Negro, as depicted in old Hollywood and demeaned daily in society, the mechas are less than human. They are meant to serve and they are meant to know their place.
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| It also seems to me that they made the mecha's look like alien's on purpose. My take on that is that it was simply to confuse film-goers. Why make them look like aliens if you could make them look like robots? Obviously the robots may change form eventually, but why would Spielberg make them look like aliens that look EXACTLY like the ones in Close Encounters? It would be too convenient to then say everyone didn't 'get' it. |
I'm at a loss to understand why this seemed such a common misconception. I don't think it has anything to do with the film's depiction or the intelligence of the audience. I think people simply weren't prepared to engage with a Spielberg film so deeply, so they accepted everything superficially and expected the usual spoonfeeding. I think if this film had Stanley Kubrick's name on it, people would have been reading the cues all along, assuming copious amounts of subtext.
(Maybe that's just wishful thinking!)
But at any rate, the ending of this film is telescoped from the beginning. We're made aware that life-sustaining resources are running out. We know that this is why mechas were created to begin with. And we know that the orgas resented the mechas "superiority" in this area (Joe: "They hate us because they know that when they're gone, we'll still be here.").
So, there's an expectation that orgas will become extinct in a world where mechas can yet survive. It's reinforced so often, that this should come as no surprise.
And neither should the "look" of the evolved, future mechas come as a surprise. This look was also telescoped throughout the film. Just consider the logo for the company that created David - it looks almost identical to the form the mechas would ultimately take. And consider the distorted image of Hobby through the glass just before he and David are reunited in the flooded Manhattan - likewise, this "father" of the mecha race is made to appear in the image they will assume. (I believe there are others, but I haven't yet gotten my DVD... and it's been a long time since I've seen "a.i."!) And when we finally see them, we can clearly see circuits and lights just beneath their metal "skins". Surely, one has to put 2 and 2 together to make the connection, but they're very clearly presented as mechanical rather than organic. And since we know the arc of the story and have witnessed very similar imagery in a very suggestive way earlier in the film, we should be primed for that "light bulb going off" moment of realization. Our evolutionary legacy should suddenly become evident in that moment of realization.
(And if this had been made too heavy-handed or simply spoonfed to the audience, then Spielberg would have been roundly criticized for that!)
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| I don't think it was a happy ending though, it was a depressing ending, but ending it under the ocean would be far more depressing (IMO of course). Basically David would be begging the blue fairy to be real forever. |
That, to me, would feel like a copout. Worse, a fashionably nihilistic copout (is it still fashionable to be a nihilist?).
Well, anyway, I would easily concede that David's yearning, his overwhelming desire for the most basic of human needs, is given its most spectacular cinematic rendering in the underwater scene - a mecha, imbued with the most potent of human needs and emotions, shall spend an eternity praying
in vain at the alter of the Blue Fairy.
But this wasn't Kubrick's intended ending, and I doubt it's one that would sit well with Spielberg either. And with good reason, I think. While it's an extraordinary visual metaphor for human longing, left unresolved it's merely another nihilistic trope, neither illuminating nor complex. It's a too easy gloss of the human condition. Fortunately, the film goes far beyond the dubious and sophomoric 'depth' of some dark, portentous parable. Spielberg takes the narrative several steps further into territory that defies the simplicity of this false ending, but without undermining this extraordinary metaphor of eternal yearning.
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| [The underwater scene with the Blue Faery] seemed to me like where the movie should have ended, not because of story, length, or anything like that, but the film hit its peak and everything else seemed to be an epilogue. |
Just consider what we would miss without the ending : (1) the human race is extinct; (2) man's creations have outlived and out-evolved us; (3) man's creations are fascinated by their creators and wish to understand us; (4) David's experience with us - something all Mechas can share through him - makes him an extraordinarily significant relic in their eyes, perhaps even a holy relic, perhaps the most holy connection with their creators the Mechas possess; (5) David evolves into something more human, though our notion of what is human has hopefully by now been expanded far beyond the simplistic definition of "a being housed in an organic vessel". David sleeps, perchance to dream (at least in the comforting words of the narrator), but we understand that he has actually reached the end of his existence. He "dies" after consumating his love with a being who's not really his mother, not even the same physical entity as his "mother", and perhaps more a symbol, the mother of all mechas, the ocean womb, all in a room that doesn't really exist except in David's memory, in a scene that culminates in the deaths of both principals and their passing into the mythology of a new race of beings.
A.I. is ultimately a film about the evolution of one species and the extinction of another - though perhaps we are the same, the mechas representing the natural evolution of the human race once we gained the power to affect, if not quite control our own evolution. But had it ended with David Swinton trapped under the sea in a disabled craft before the alter of the Blue Fairy, it would be like leaving David Bowman sitting in space on a disabled craft before the monolith at the end of 2001. Had Kubrick ended 2001 at this analogous point, what would we have? Man overcomes his creation, his tools (HAL), only to have the door to 'beyond infinity' closed in his face. Bleak? Yeah. Dark? I guess. Complex? Not quite. That ending would have
earned Pauline Kael's otherwise inapt criticism: "copout".
Instead, we discover a race - our progeny, our evolutionary legacy - and we discover that they are fascinated by their organic forbears, just as we are fascinated by our own evolutionary history. Fascinated enough to dig up a long-lost relic of a long-ago time when creator and progeny walked the earth together.
And we discover that they too need fables to ease the anxiety of the ultimate question of being: from whence did I come and why this inescapable yearning?