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spielberg in the 80s

• raiders of the lost ark
• e.t.
• indiana jones and the temple of doom
• indiana jones and the last crusade

spielberg in the 90s

• jurassic park
• schindler's list
• the lost world: jurassic park
• saving private ryan

spielberg in the 00s

• a.i.: artificial intelligence
• minority report
• catch me if you can
• the terminal
• war of the worlds
• munich
• indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull

spielberg in the 10s

• the adventures of tintin: the secret of the unicorn
• war horse

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The 1950 film noir semi-classic D.O.A., and its 1988 remake, begin with the protagonist crashing into a police station and reporting a murder: his own. He then explains, through a series of flashbacks, how he discovered that he was the victim of a slow-working poison, and with the clock ticking to his inevitable demise, proceeded to solve the riddle of his own death.

What we have in Minority Report is basically the same concept, sci-fi-ized. Left at a certain point, in fact, Report would have made a serviceable future noir flick in the same vein as the film to which it will inevitably (and pointlessly) be compared, Blade Runner. But perhaps we should, rather, be thinking A.I.: yet again, Spielberg has tacked an extensive coda onto a leaner, more workable narrative, thereby changing the story's ultimate payoff, and my ultimate reaction.

Yes, Detective John Anderton has the creepiest moment that could fall within his job description, when he is given information that the next "pre-crime" he will be tackling will be a murder that he, himself, will commit in 36 hours. The clock - literally, Cruise's wristwatch - is ticking, and the bulk of the remainder of the film is spent (overtly) tracking Anderton's investigation of the murder he doesn't believe he'll commit, and (covertly) demonstrating how the puzzle pieces will all fall together, and how self-fulfilling prophecy can be both outwittable, and unavoidable. Destiny, Fate, call it what you will: there are grand metaphysical concepts at work in Minority Report. Are they given full measure in the film? Well, let's leave it at that they're given better measure than they would be in any other summer movie, but this is all just armchair philosophy anyway, dumbed-down sci-fi postulations masquerading as plot points.

We've seen Spielberg-as-Hitchcock, Spielberg-as-Lean, Spielberg-as-Disney, but Minority Report is one I never expected: Spielberg as Tim Burton. Burton's unfortunate tendency in the past decade to pass over the niceties of film narrative in favour of rank fetishism of its concept (think Apes) has apparently infected Mr. Spielberg, and Minority Report is lousy with "Future Fetish." (They stock it at Future Shop.)

I have no doubt - and if I did, any of forty interviews with the director would have confirmed it for me - that a panel of the world's leading futurists would call this one of the great envisionings of the human future ever committed to film. The trouble is, it's boring; there's so much detail invested in the creation of a future not too far away that the pace slackens considerably in what should be an hour-and-forty-minute run-and-jump adventure.

There are nice touches among the fetish icons; a holographic imaging system not too far removed from current digital projection technology is particularly well-realized, and the "world of ads" concept is pretty darn spooky, because I can't imagine it's too far off.

There are good moments unrelated to fetish as well, thank goodness. The venerable Lois Smith gives a great scene-steal as this film's Queen Exposition, and it's nice to see Neal McDonough getting work. Samantha Morton is fabulous as a demented pre-cog unwillingly running with Cruise.

Cruise, on the other hand, leaves me cold. I have no problem with imperfect characters, but Cruise's brooding, drug-addicted hero just doesn't seem to gel with the story in front of us. It's as though the narrative is desperately straining to be darker than it is, to its own detrement.

But perhaps most disappointing to me personally, is that there just isn't a lot of Spielberg craft here. I don't want to get too offensive here, but between Spielberg's uninspired blocking and Kaminski's ludicrously over-the-top photography, this film, at times, looks almost Bruckheimeran. There's one nice reveal where a plot-centric pair of spectacles lead a murderous pair of scissors into frame, but otherwise, not a lot going on here.

The film would have been left more effective had it simply ended when Anderton unintentionally fulfills his own destiny: everything that happens afterwards is needlessly over-explained and thematically awkward.

I don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater; despite disappointment, Minority Report is certainly watchable and enjoyable in parts, and certainly has more to it than Scooby Doo or The Sum of All Fears. But I am once again lead to ask the inevitable question: when is Steven Spielberg going to get back to making Steven Spielberg movies?