Now that Stanley Kubrick has passed on, the tributes to his genius have been pouring in. The latest to hit the screen is the long-anticipated project A.I. Artificial Intelligence, based on Brian Aldiss' 1969 short story "Super-Toys Last All Summer Long," for which Kubrick obtained the rights two decades ago. Kubrick met with Aldiss numerous times to develop a screenplay but was never satisfied with the emerging ideas. Aldiss balked at turning his story into a modern fairy tale, thinking the legendary director should strive to make another modern myth along the lines of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The idea of Kubrick reworking Pinocchio using a little boy machine who seeks love and acceptance sounds intriguing, but the director who gave us HAL handed the project over to his friend Steven Spielberg, a director Kubrick felt was more in tune with the sensibilities of the story.

Over a period of years, the two directors faxed ideas back and forth. At one point they toyed with the idea that Kubrick produce the film and Spielberg direct--until Kubrick's death prevented such collaboration. You get about what you'd expect with a Spielberg interpretation of Kubrick—A.I. veers from cold, intellectual fare to warm and poignant, tear-inducing moments from scene to scene.

Though Kubrick has operated with existential detachment for years, Spielberg has remained the wide-eyed optimist who put together studies in innocence with E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Even his darker movies contain hopeful and upbeat endings--whether it's a heroic sheriff blasting a monster shark to smithereens, a kindly T. Rex chomping a voracious raptor pair to bits, numerous descendents of Holocaust survivors paying tribute to good deeds, or a veteran saluting a war hero with the American flag waving in his eye.

Spielberg knows movies, and he knows mainstream movie audiences want to leave the theater on a positive note, so he delivers. That's another huge difference between Kubrick and Spielberg. Whereas Kubrick concentrates on communicating his vision and doesn't care if the audience loves his movie or loves him, Spielberg desires the love as much as his little A.I. hero. Unfortunately, by remaining true to the O. Henry-style one-trick ending of the source story during the final 10 minutes and infusing it with overabundant sentimentality, Spielberg loses a chance to connect directly with Kubrick fans. Or is this a deliberate tack on Spielberg's part to create a film that perplexes his traditional fan base by virtually offering an over-the-top self-parody, just as Kubrick challenges critics with films that are initially received poorly--only to be hailed as works of genius years later?

Whatever the case, there is much to admire in A.I., and it's the most worthy major summer release to arrive at the multiplexes so far. Spielberg remains a student of classic cinema and crafts a layered piece that is intriguing and visually rich enough to warrant repeat viewings--something no other 2001 summer movies released through the end of June deserve.

It treats us like we are intelligent adults and ambitiously forces us to consider the human condition, God, our place in the Universe and a myriad other aspects to life. Not bad for a summer movie, I'd say. A.I. actually works better after a few days have passed, giving you a chance to ponder its themes. Beginning with a classroom-type setting reminiscent of Indiana Jones, Spielberg's reinvented Geppetto, Professor Hobby (William Hurt), implores his research team at Cybertronics to come up with a new concept in robots--to create a robot that can love.

An even bigger question looms--can you get a human to love the robot? What responsibility does a human have to a robot that genuinely loves? These have become especially important questions in the 21st century after the polar ice caps have melted, plunging New York City and other coastal areas under the sea and requiring strict human population controls.

With robots replacing humans for various services (including sexual gratification) and with the government issuing limited pregnancy licenses, Professor Hobby charges his associates to address a huge potential market for childless couples. Spielberg sprinkles enough clues to show that Hobby is truly a Geppeto clone--a lonely man left with only pictures of family.

Enter David (Haley Joel Osment) as the prototype robot child to be tested by Henry and Monica Swinton (Sam Robards and Frances O'Connor) to substitute for their own terminally ill child, who has been cryogenically frozen. After initial resistance, Monica eventually warms to the "toy boy" and performs the ominous imprinting that sets things into motion--or emotion, since David will now love Monica as his mother unconditionally.

Instantly, David transforms from obedient robot into the ideal child, who almost worships his mother. Monica clearly bonds with her new adoring son, giving him her real son's robotic Teddy that acts as a mentor for David. The idyllic setting is short-lived. A scientific breakthrough occurs and the Swintons' real son is miraculously cured. How much is real versus how much is genetically re-engineered is left ambiguous, but Martin (Jake Thomas) limps in on mechanical legs.

This "real boy" behaves predictably, retaining the human instincts of sibling rivalry and treating David as a robotic toy. Thus, through the children we see the emotional imperfections and cruelty of “orgas” (humans) contrasted with the purity of spirit and emotion demonstrated by “mechas” (robots). Even Martin’s selection of Pinocchio for bedtime storytelling contains an edge to it—his way of teasing his “brother” about his reality. It also provides impetus to the plot; David takes the story literally.

Mechas are not invincible, however. David can't eat spinach (or anything) without breaking down, and he can't understand all the subtleties of human behavior. The inevitable occurs—Monica abandons her artificial son in the New Jersey woods, and A.I. takes its darkest turns. After finding that screaming "Monica" is never going to bring his mother back, David begins his quest to become a real boy—in search of the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio, who can grant him his request so he can finally receive true motherly love.

Along the way, David hooks up with lover robot Gigolo Joe (Jude Law), who's adorned in waxy makeup. Joe swears by his brand of love because the women in his life never have to worry about relationship entanglements or getting pregnant—"Once you have a lover robot, you'll never go back."

Law plays his character like a hyper version of his playboy persona in The Talented Mr. Ripley who has been given a shot of Gene Kelly footwork. As effective as Law is in the role, Gigolo Joe is little more than a plot device to believably assist David through the plot maze of the second dark act of A.I.

David, Joe, and a lot of homeless robots seeking replacement parts are swept into a WWF-like Flesh Fair where human spectators inhumanely cheer while mechas are crushed, shot from cannons (look for a humorous cameo by a Chris Rock robot), or rapidly decomposed with acid.

This gives Spielberg a chance to remind us of Schindler's List and preach the gospel that "Those who don't learn from history are compelled to repeat it." Visually stunning, the Flesh Fair sequence will shock many Spielberg fans into realizing that they are not treading the same path home that E.T. followed. Consider that Spielberg had to throw in the "penis breath" line into that film to avoid the box office disaster of a "G" rating. After seeing a number of parents entering the theater with toddlers in tow, I am even more convinced that people with children should at least scan reviews. They would realize that A.I. is made for adults and earns its PG-13 rating. The only reason it doesn't get an R rating is because it doesn't have enough violence, profanity, or sexual content. But it's far more mature material than the teensploitation flicks overwhelming the cineplexes.

Considering how Kubrick works, it's fortunate for practical reasons alone that he hooked up with Spielberg for this project. Perfectionist that he is, Kubrick would have taken 3 years to complete the project, making it impossible to use a flesh-and-blood child actor for the pivotal role (Kubrick had wanted to create a robot child for the role). As good as Osment is, it would be impossible for the 13-year-old to convince us he's still a small child when he hits 16. Without a gifted actor like Osment to carry out the difficult role, Spielberg would have to look to CGI and Industrial Light & Magic to create an inanimate David.

Osment clearly demonstrates with his nuanced role here that his Sixth Sense performance was no fly-by-night accident. The role requires him to act like a mechanical robot boy before turning on the warm-and-fuzzy emotions and innocence to carry out his human mission in a believable way. It's a fine balancing act that both Osment and Spielberg carry out by showing us a very likeable human character while holding us at arm's length so we can observe the challenging ideas that fill the screen.

Credit must go to Spielberg for crafting a truly worthwhile summer film. Despite its Kubrickian darkness, A.I. has the marks of Spielberg's craft written all over it. The obvious signs are there, like the robots that look very much like preliminary sketches for the aliens of Close Encounters and the wonder that fills David's eyes as he believes he is on track to find the Blue Fairy.

But there are even more signs when you look closer. Spielberg has grown up on television and film culture, and is a great student of film--here he has found ways to explore some of Kubrick's favorite themes with far darker imagery than he has ever used before, with science-fiction sets that rival Blade Runner's in tone. As with Kubrick's best work, audiences depart stunned after their first viewing, confused about the film's meaning or whether they enjoyed themselves.

Will Spielberg be loved for A.I.? Not immediately, but he'll be forgiven—given his track record. Kubrick purists will complain that Spielberg wasn't true to the maverick director's vision, forgetting that Kubrick's films are almost universally poorly received at first. Spielberg fans will be shocked that A.I. doesn't deliver all the warm fuzzies and easy answers of E.T., conversely challenging them with conflicting emotions and thoughts.

But that's why A.I. Artificial Intelligence may finally grant Spielberg the "love" that has eluded him over the years, even beyond the Oscar successes of Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan. Spielberg has long admired the great directors, and made personal contact with as many as he could--David Lean, Federico Fellini, Stanley Kubrick, and many others. These legendary directors have created works that stand the test of time and their body of work ranks them among the pantheon of the best directors. Spielberg would like to be remembered in the same way.

A.I. plays better 3 days after seeing it, and makes me want to return. Years from now, future generations of critics will examine the body of Spielberg's work and will conclude that he ranks among the other misunderstood film artists of his day. Even though he has had more commercial success than anyone in the history of film, he's never satisfied, continually in search of his own Blue Fairy. Add A.I. to his legacy.