The Creator

For decades, Hollywood has pondered what would happen if machines began thinking for themselves. From 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) to The Terminator (1984) to The Matrix (1999) to this summer’s latest Mission: Impossible installment, the consensus seems to be that artificial intelligence is a bad idea. But in his new film The Creator, writer/director Gareth Edwards suggests we ought not fear technology so much as ourselves.

The Creator takes place in a near future in which humanity has gone to war against artificial intelligence. AI robots and simulants—androids possessing human faces—were supposed to improve the lives of humans, but after AI detonated a nuclear bomb in downtown Los Angeles, humanity rethinks its relationship with technology. The United States outlaws artificial intelligence and launches a war to eradicate AI abroad, but some societies in Asia provide safe havens for their machine neighbors.

The U.S. military sees itself locked in a battle for the survival of the species, and officials convince a wounded veteran named Joshua (John David Washington) to help them root out the last AI resistance before it’s too late. Joshua must find Nirmata, the mysterious creator of artificial intelligence, and neutralize the ultimate weapon he’s created. But what to do when that weapon turns out to be an innocent child?

The Creator is a stunningly beautiful movie, and Edwards proves he has an eye for aesthetics. His visuals echo the classic films Apocalypse Now (1979) and Blade Runner (1982). He filmed much of the movie at various locations throughout southeast Asia, and the gorgeous setting provides an elegant counterpoint to the violence of war. Seamlessly layered atop this realistic world is impressive computer-generated imagery.

But while the movie has plenty of style, it falls short in human emotion. Edwards’ script fails to tell a compelling story, and those visual callbacks to better movies end up reinforcing how derivative the plot is.

The Creator purports to be about the relationship between humanity and robots, but it doesn’t wrestle with questions about what it means to be human or whether human exceptionalism can ever be imputed to a sophisticated simulacrum of human consciousness.

Fundamentally, The Creator isn’t about AI or technology because the U.S. military is the real villain. The movie attacks perceived American imperialism and warmongering, and it steals most of its thin plot from James Cameron’s Avatar. Edwards replaces Cameron’s Pandora with Thailand and blue-skinned Na’vi with orange-robed Buddhist robots seeking harmony. And just like Jake Sully, Joshua goes native, disavowing the scorched-earth military that pursues him.

Edwards obviously doesn’t like America’s military intervention abroad, and anyone who’s familiar with the Vietnam War will see in the film a condemnation of U.S. attempts to contain communism. Edwards also rolls in America’s war on terror. It’s been more than 20 years since 9/11, but it feels a little tasteless for Edwards to imply the tragedy was America’s fault.

But the political agenda isn’t really the worst part of the movie. The script simply includes too many nonsensical plot devices and contrivances. Why is the child a weapon? The movie suggests Nirmata had some loving intention, but there’s nothing loving about turning a child into a weapon. It’s just stupid. Moreover, the third act offers a lazy final set piece that rehashes the climax of many a Marvel movie.

Perhaps Edwards intended a metaphor about how we try to blame the tools we create rather than take responsibility for our own actions, an assertion that strikes me as naïve considering how easily algorithms manipulate the human psyche. But The Creator itself serves as an unintentional metaphor for the lifelike robots in the film. There’s stunning technological wizardry, but just like an android lifelessly mimics a person, The Creator is merely a hollow copy of much better movies.