In the last review, David was stuck under a Ferris wheel, and, for some incomprehensible reason, no one bothered to look for him for 2,000 years, even though he was the most valuable piece of machinery anyone had seen up to that time. He was spending his days underwater praying to a statue of a blue fairy that Spielberg makes abundantly clear is supposed to be an allegory for God.
The narrator repeatedly uses the word “pray” while David begs the fairy to turn him into a real boy, and the camera slowly zooms out. It’s like Spielberg is screaming, “See guys? Your God is a fairy tale! Get it!” Subtle as a train.
Then we move from pretentious stupidity to cartoon stupidity. It’s already unbelievable enough that nobody looked for David when he was only a few yards from the very lab he was built in. It’s already unbelievable that nobody stumbled across him for 2,000 years.
It’s not like he was deep inside the Mariana Trench. He’s in a flooded city. You mean they didn’t try to drain the water or scavenge the submerged material under the waves? Sunken ships are discovered all the time! Why would nobody spend their resources looking for the most technologically advanced robot? But the movie isn’t content to annoy its audience with these two contrivances; it’s determined to decimate the suspension of disbelief.
After 2,000 years, aliens—you heard me right—aliens find David trapped under hundreds, if not thousands, of layers of ice. So, I need to clarify something. Steven Spielberg says that these aliens are not aliens at all. They are robots.
This was Kubrick’s original vision. His idea was to have more advanced robots find David in the future, and since David is the only robot around who’s seen humans, he’s technically the closest thing to human in his time, technically making him the realest boy of them all. Not only this, but it is consistently maintained that Kubrick envisioned the ending as a whole.
Thematically—assuming this is true—this does make sense. The story is something of a Pinocchio–Tin Man hybrid. David becomes a real boy because, really, he was a real boy all along. This returns us back to the film’s and the short story’s thesis statement. “Nobody knows what ‘real’ really means.” This entire scenario is ridiculous, but, thematically, it works.
Here’s the problem. I don’t believe for a second that the creatures seen in the film are meant to be perceived as robots. They are never called robots, and they look like aliens—exactly like aliens!
They have slender proportions, weird powers reminiscent of telepathy, and they literally sparkle like they have stars inside them. They’re aliens! But to be fair, I guess I must maintain that they are robots since this seems to be Kubrick’s true vision; therefore, I shall call them Glitter Bots.
The Glitter Bots wake David up and keep their distance. Once the “real boy” has rebooted, he sees the blue fairy. He stands up and touches the blue fairy. The blue fairy shatters in front of him. There’s no real reason for this.
The statue is covered in ice, sure, but there’s no real reason for the fairy to shatter within the story. That’s the first tell. David stares at the statue, either confused or horrified—I wasn’t sure which—then turns around and sees the Glitter Bots.
Now, I want to pause and ask, what is this scene really saying? This piece of “art” has clearly demonstrated a pattern of pretension throughout, so I think it’s safe to say that this scene isn’t merely another scene. I believe this is communicating one of two possible ideas.
Number one: Once we reach a certain level of technology, we will no longer need God—remember, the blue fairy represents God. Number two: Once we meet our benevolent or malevolent makers, we will no longer need God. Given the fact that the Glitter Bots look exactly like aliens, I’m going with number two.
The second option also seems more likely when one considers Spielberg’s fascination with aliens and Kubrick’s previous work. Remember 2001: A Space Odyssey? If you recall that “gem” of cinema, then you’ll remember what happens at the end. Dave finds the aliens and becomes the Übermensch or Space Baby. Again, subtle.
I think it’s clear that becoming a “real” boy is analogous to transcendence. One transcends by realizing that there’s nothing to transcend to because there’s no “real” anyway . . . does that mean transcendence isn’t “real” either? Isn’t circular thinking wonderful?
I wish I could stop, but there’s more. So, after David realizes there’s no blue fairy—I mean, God—the Glitter Bots decide to knock him out and give him a dream of the blue fairy. Can you see what the movie’s doing here? Can you hear Spielberg screaming, “The aliens . . . I mean, the robots are acting as God! Get it!”
David, to his credit, doesn’t really seem to fall for the ruse, although I may be reading too much into Haley Joel Osment’s performance. His face just seems to suggest he’s skeptical of this whole thing.
Either way, he wants the “blue fairy” to bring his mom back, but they say they can’t without a piece of DNA. This prompts Teddy to produce the hair David had cut from his mother’s head—that’s right; he kept that bit of hair for two thousand years—and this only serves to remind the audience of how annoying that whole scene with David and his mom was. The Glitter Bots deliver some science jargon, but the whole point is David’s mother can only come back for 24 hours—because, “fairy tale.”
David spends the day with his mom. The sequence is shot like a bad commercial from the Nineties. Spielberg tries to pass the whole thing off as sweet, but it’s just creepy. As expected, the narrator makes sure to emphasize that David is alone with his mother, not seeming to realize that this makes little David look like Norman Bates 2.0 as he “innocently” draws perverted pictures his mother doesn’t understand.
Apparently, somebody thought it would be hilarious for David to depict the architecture of Rogue City, frequent stomping ground of Gigolo Joe. Again, Spielberg fails to understand that obsession is not love, and if David were really human, he would know that.
The movie ends with his mother dying in bed. David doesn’t really care because he’s “so human.” He’s just happy he got his day. He crawls into bed with his mom, then the narrator says something that suggests he might’ve died, but I didn’t really care because David was a robot and he was never alive to begin with.
I hate this movie. It’s boring and pretentious to the point of being obnoxious. I won’t even give the movie the credit of being confusing because that would imply that there might be something interesting under the surface. There’s not. Once I slowed it down, I found it to be filled with contradictory ideas and cheap narration tricks meant to manipulate the audience. So, don’t watch it.
In the next review, I plan to begin refuting the film and short story’s thesis statement, “Nobody knows what ‘real’ really means,” because I feel like that statement deserves a little attention. I believe the film itself defeats its own claim, so I plan to use it to make my point.