reported to have entertained: that, ultimately,rnhumanity will be subsumed andrnredeemed by the artificial higher intelligencernof a computerized robot culture.rnIn what seems a desperate coda, Spielbergrnintroduces—as a deus ex machina —rna band of sleek, jointless mechanical beingsrnto lend their gleaming hands to thernproceedings. They look suspiciously likernthe benevolent aliens who came to enlightenrnus all at the end of his ClosernEncounters of the Third Kind (1977).rnSpielberg, bless him, always insists onrnconsoling us with as hopeful an ending asrnhe can muster. Personally, I found hisrnconclusion ghoulish—literally so —forrnreasons I shouldn’t reveal here.rnFor all its visual beauty and technicalrnimagination, A.I. is peculiarly lacking inrnresonance. It has some very affecting,rnvery intense moments, but overall it fallsrnflat. Spielberg has warped the literary naturernof Aldiss’s original story (as Kubrickrnmay have as well). He has chosen tornmake literal what was meant to be arnmetaphorical premise. The robot in Aldiss’srnstory functions as a reproach to humanrnselfishness; its fate as a mechanicalrnbeing is irrelevant. By contrast, Spielberg’srnsole focus is the pathos of his boyrnrobot as a robot. He insists on realisticallyrnrendering David’s artificiality. To takernjust one of innumerable instances, hernmakes a big deal of David at the dinnerrntable. Because he cannot ingest food,rnDavid does a pantomime in order to keeprnhis adoptive parents company, lifting anrnempty fork to his mouth and makingrnchewing and swallowing motions. Onernevening, however, he decides to eat forrnreal. He swallows a mouthful of creamedrnspinach and shorts out his circuitry, causingrnthe synthetic flesh of his face to sagrnhorribly. Although visually clever, thisrnemphasis on David’s mechanical beingrnundermines his symbolic function. Insteadrnof a literary tactic meant to stimulaternreflection on what it means to be human,rnhe becomes something far lessrninteresting: a bit of Popular Mechanicsrnspeculation about whether or not robotsrnhave a legitimate future as our descendants.rn(I don’t know about you, but myrnidea of progeny doesn’t run to hard drivesrnand software, even if they are morally programmedrnfor unwavering decency.)rnBy making Aldiss’s original premisernthe literal point rather than the metaphorrnof his narrative, Spielberg has fallen intornan error similar to the one to which hisrnhuman characters succumb. He’s preferredrnthe seeming security of a device tornthe unpredictable challenge of life. Still,rnhis film is provocative and worth seeing.rnBut it’s decidedly not for kids. It portraysrnloss and mortality far too starkly forrnyoungsters under 14.rnSexy Beast is a small British film that hasrnno difficulty with its literary metaphors.rnThey tumble into the plot as playfully andrnunapologetically as the six-foot boulderrnthat whizzes past our protagonist. GalrnDove (Ray Winstone), just a minute afterrnwe meet him. This, of course, is itself arngreat big metaphor, but it’s not nearly asrnbig as the one played by Ben Kingsley asrnDon Logan, Gal’s worst nightmare.rnThe film’s opening shot reveals Galrnsunning his oiled and beefy body by thernexquisitely tiled pool of his hillside housernon the Costa del Sol in Spain. He is arnformer London criminal who has retiredrnto the good life with an erstwhile pornrnstar for his faithful and devoted wife. Hernhas what seems to be an aging, softeningrnthug’s dream. The first words out of hisrnmouth, however, suggest otherwise.rn”Bloody hell,” he says to himself, lyingrnthere in his sun-yellow, ridiculously briefrnbathing tights. “I’m roasting.” The nextrnOn Teaching Homer in English Translationrnby Donald CarlsonrnThe wonder is they do not point and hoot.rnWhile I, a fellow monkey in a suit.rnAssume my stance, as if today I’ll reachrnTo them the living bread of human speech.rnWhen their young souls are starved for to kalon,rnHow do I dare to offer them a stone?rnscene is shot through the flickeringrnflames of a barbecue grill, turning Gal’srnfleshy face into a crimson jack-o’-lantern.rnAlthough he resists the knowledge, he’srnin a hefl of his own making. Logan willrnclarify matters. When this live depthrncharge from his criminal past shows up,rnthe atmosphere turns positively gelidrnwith fear. Gal and his wife move aboutrntheir airy house in slow motion as thoughrnthey were 20 leagues under a sea minedrnwith terror. Gal’s acquaintance withrnGreek myth may be slight, but he knowsrnhis nemesis when he meets him.rnThe fun of this film is in the performancesrnof Winstone and Kingsley.rnThey’re enjoying themselves immensely,rnand this energizes the narrative. Kingsleyrnhas shaved his head so it looks like a missilerntip atop his square-shouldered, ramrodrnback. This man means business. Herndoesn’t walk; he marches. He doesn’trntalk; he barks. He doesn’t ask; he commands.rnKingsley has contrived to transformrnthe large, soft eyes that served himrnso eloquently as Ghandi. Here, theyrnhave become two burning coals that flarerninto the faces of everyone he meets, searingrnaway any last remnant of pretense orrnfalsity. This is a man who calls everyone’srnbluff He’s come to bring Gal back tornLondon to assist in a heist. Why he so urgentlyrnneeds Gal is never explained —rnwhich is puzzling, since Winstone looksrnlike nothing more than a criminal journeyman.rnHe may once have had somernmuscle to recommend him, but at thisrnpoint in his life, this asset has saggedrnshamefully.rnYou can see why Gal wants no part ofrnLogan’s assignment. It’s written in hisrnfleshiness. Winstone makes a slightiy depressivernpin cushion of Gal, absorbingrnthe barbs the implacable Logan hurls atrnhim, one after another. “It’s like this,”rnGal begins again and again, trying to explainrnhis current preference for the quietrnlife. But Logan won’t let him get the traitorousrnwords out. “Like whot; like whot,”rnhe interrupts derisively in his staccatorncockney. Finally Winstone can onlyrnwhimper, “I’d be useless,” to which Loganrnretorts, “You’re disgusting.”rnhs the one-sided verbal sparring goesrnon, we come to realize Gal’s life is infectedrnwith Logan; he was contaminatedrnmany years ago as a member of thernBritish underclass, and he’s never purgedrnthis sexy beast from his system. The questionrnthe film raises is whether or not hernever will. As metaphors go, Kingsley andrnWinstone are superbly eloquent. crn48/CHRONICLESrnrnrn