As we quickly learn, robots have become a staple item of the near future (the movie takes place in 2035), being churned out like personal computers by massive corporations to take care of regular work drudgery like taking out the trash, walking the dog, and carrying home the groceries. The biggest of the manufacturers is U.S. Robotics, which has the tallest glass skyscraper in Chicago and is on the verge of the largest robot distribution in history, which will bring the world's human-to-robot ratio to 5:1. The movie's visual juxtaposition of the old and the new in robotics technology is cleverly striking: The brand-spanking-new NS-5 models look like semi-translucent iMacs that have taken on human form, while the older models look not a bit unlike crash-test dummies, underscoring their impending obsolesce. Mere days before this mass distribution of NS-5's takes place, however, the founder of U.S. Robotics and the inventor of modern robot technology, Dr. Alfred Lanning (James Cromwell), commits spectacular suicide by leaping from the top of his own building.

In comes Del Spooner, a tough-talking, wise-cracking Chicago police detective (natch) played by Will Smith, returning once again to his staple summer hero character mold, albeit with an edge of deep-seated bitterness we haven't seen before. Unlike everyone else, Spooner has an inherent distrust of robot technology. He is not placated by the seemingly unbendable "Three Laws of Robotics" (the basis of all of Asimov's robot stories): (1) A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm; (2) A robot must obey orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law; and (3) A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law. As it turns out, Spooner is not completely alone in his misgivings; Dr. Lanning also had his suspicions, as we see him in file video footage discussing the possibilities of robots "evolving" consciousness, which might mean an ability to override the laws.

Spooner's suspicion seems to be confirmed when he discovers a robot nicknamed Sonny (voiced by Alan Tudyk) hiding in Dr. Lanning's office after his apparent suicide. All clues point to Sonny's having been involving in Lanning's death, especially when he runs from the police despite having been given direct orders to stop (so much for Law #2). While all the other robots in the movie are essentially emotionless automatons, Sonny shows signs of humanity, including the ability to feel emotions, dream, and ask philosophical questions such as, "What am I?" Much like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Sonny turns out to be the most recognizably human character in the movie, and we end up feeling more for him than we do for Smith's tortured action hero.

Spooner can't quite go it alone in solving the mystery of Lanning's death, so he finds a reluctant partner in Dr. Susan Calvin (Bridget Moynahan), a psychiatrist who works for U.S. Robotics to make their robot products seem more human. Dr. Calvin believes firmly in the Three Laws of Robotics, and even when they are broken right in front of her eyes she manages to concoct some kind of explanation that justifies the bottom line. Eventually, she begins to see things Spooner's way, even as that puts her at odds with the corporation she works for, which is embodied in CEO Lawrence Robertson (go-to jerk Bruce Greenwood), the ultimate Bill Gates gone bad.

I, Robot marks a sharp turn in tone and style for director Alex Proyas, who directed two exceedingly dark, intriguing sci-fi movies in the 1990s, The Crow (1994) and Dark City (1998). Where those films were elegantly moody in their noir stylings, I, Robot is sleek and bright, polished to such a fine shine that almost everything appears to be CGI, even the actors.

Proyas handles the movie's numerous action sequences quite well, making them thrilling without devolving into incoherence, even when the camera is spinning 360 degrees around narrow catwalks hundreds of feet in the air while thousands of robots climb spider-like toward the movie's besieged heroes. Unfortunately, Proyas succumbs to the inane post-Matrix tendency to pump up action sequences with sudden moments of slow motion gymnastics that here are so egregiously inserted that they are almost laughable. Such sequences also endow Spooner with an overtly superheroic quality that completely undermines the movie's attempt to keep him humanly grounded; this is, after all, a character whose psychology is based on a crucial life moment in which he was impotent to save either himself or another person. All the work Smith does in his performance to make Spooner complicated is essentially erased when he flies improbably through the air with multiple guns a'blazing.

Ultimately, I, Robot shares the conflicted sense of mission experienced by its robot characters. On the one hand, it wants to be a smart, provocative exploration of the nature of artificial intelligence and its relation to humanity (this is particularly evident in a scene in which Spooner tells the story of how infallible robot logic saved his life, but burdened him with a sense of survivor's guilt that almost deadens him). On the other hand, it wants to be a crash-and-burn flick in which the plot is repeatedly subsumed by the dictates of fast-motion action sequences. Sometimes, these sequences are well done enough that you don't mind how the story grinds to a halt in order to indulge them, but it's hard to get away from the nagging feeling that it could have been something more. This is one that got away.

Copyright ©2005 James Kendrick

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