Artificial intelligence is a useful metaphor for humanity, but the way the show simplifies the symbolism does it no favors
In the first episode of Netflix’s new Lost in Space, Will Robinson (Maxwell Jenkins) discovers a robot (Brian Steele) and saves it from a spreading forest fire. As a result, it seems to imprint upon him, minding him like a pet that is faithful and following around him. He starts to mature as Will is abruptly made accountable for the security of another being. The robot begins to grow, also, as they struggle to correct their biases and preconceptions about artificial 28, becoming an essential part of the Robinson family. And the series dumps this plotline, and the attendant questions about AI.
Lost in Space is one of several properties that use robots as a means of supporting and mirroring stories about human growth. The way characters choose to take care of how their characters will grow and artificial intelligences is usually a leading indicator of the audience is meant to perceive them. Will, for instance, is obviously a fundamental protagonist, as he immediately indicates the robot “him” instead of”it,” a person as opposed to an item. Everyone else takes some time to adjust. Will’s mother (Molly Parker) sees a instrument; his dad (Toby Stephens) sees a threat; Dr. Smith (Parker Posey) sees a weapon. If they manage to make the turn in any way, and all these, including Will’s siblings, have a while to adjust to seeing the robot as a living thing rather than an item.
Lost in Space’s AI storyline should feel familiar to anybody even remotely interested in science fiction. The Iron Giant is likely the most straightforward parallel, as it also follows a thing of a”boy and his dog” structure. Much like Will, Hogarth Hughes (Eli Marienthal) finds a robot (Vin Diesel) and befriends it. It is an alien thing with capabilities, which immediately makes it seem dangerous to the adults in Hogarth’s life. But it transcends its intended function: the robot is capable of growing and learning, and Hogarth understands better and becomes a superhero. And Hogarth grows facing death’s nature as it was explained by him in the movie to the Giant earlier.
Lost in Space follows a similar trajectory, in that Will’s growth runs parallel to the robot. He tells it to be great rather than to follow its harmful impulses. He helps it put itself back together in the same way Hogarth aids the Giant. And Lost in Space’s robot temporarily wins the camp’s approval after it fends off a pack of monsters, in the same way the Giant wins Hogarth’s city by rescuing two boys from falling out of a roof.
Regrettably, where The Iron Giant Includes a graceful arc, Lost in Space sputters. Eventually convinced that a hazard may be posed by the robot, will informs it to destroy itself. So it walks off out of this story for a while a cliff. The rationale behind the writers’ choice is fairly evident — it provides an opportunity for the robot to fall into the wrong hands, especially given how it parts ways with Will — but given how many other storyline threads the writers are balancing inside this initial period, it’s more of a death knell for the AI arc.
From the time that the robot returns, there’s not enough time left for its arc to be solved past,”Can it be a bad robot, or is not it?” Individual traits and its sentience are abandoned, leading to an unsatisfying end to a narrative with potential. Because much about it’s still a mystery the exploration of AI is a rich narrative field. The kind of AI which populates movies and TV is still far from being manufactured , and humankind is only beginning to reckon with all the integrity and consequences of generated intelligence.
Blade Runner is likely the best-known example of digging deep to the area, as well as among the best-executed. Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is a professional”blade runner,” an assassin who”retires” replicants, a kind of biorobotic android. Replicants aren’t considered living things, despite the fact that they have human feelings and aspirations. They made with lifetime spans for the purpose of preventing them from becoming more human. As their humanity becomes more and more evident, the line between heroes and villains fluctuates. That makes it more wrenching when the nature of Deckard starts to come into question.
Katsuhiro Otomo’s 2001 animated movie Metropolis treads similar territory in terms of using AI to research how folks treat each other — and people they perceive to be”additional” — in the pursuit of what they want. But it hews a little closer to The Iron Giant and Lost in Space in having a firmly human protagonist. The robots of Metropolis are subject to mistreatment and discrimination, and anti-robot sentiment in the city is so strong that the robots have been relegated into the lower levels of the city. Vigilante groups work to worsen the robots’ presence. It’s a lot to shoulder narratively, however, the story works because the focus on the association between the individual Kenichi (Kei Kobayashi) and the robot Tima (Yuka Imoto) is indeed closely cultivated and sustained, and because there’s more to it than a simple dichotomy of good and bad.
Toward the conclusion of Lost in Space, the story’s random quality suggests more of compared to Neill Blomkamp’s Chappie. That picture treats the idea of AI with the same sense of advantage: the question that’s being addressed shifts depending on what is easiest for the plot, rather than in service of those figures. AI is in the narrative. At times it’s to interrogate mortality. And at times it’s only for pleasure. There are additional similarities regarding how Chappie and Lost in Space set their principal robot / human connections to resemble the most dynamic between a parent and a child. Chappie handles to delve a little deeper into the thought, since the movie’s ending suggests the eponymous sentient robot and the people around him continue learning from each other. In Lost in Space, the equilibrium isn’t as equal. By the time the robot has been restored into the narrative, Will appears to have done.
Lost in Space raises some fascinating problems which are often at the crux of any AI story, but the way the writers reevaluate the robot’s arc undermines the story. And does the introduction of a second robot at the show’s season 1 finale. The next robot is plain bad, relentless in its effort to destroy the Robinsons. And the simplicity with feels strange, given the insistence that Will’s robot can change and is sentient and learn of the story. This action-driven twist undermines everything even about Will himself, and the string has said about the robot of Will. Even the characters’ feelings toward the robot’s shift feels random instead of earned. It appears to be for the interest of moving the plot together, rather than through any sort of growth, although the Robinson family come to take the robot from the end of the season.
Using AI to parallel and reflect stories about growth is a gambit, and it’s easy to see why: they are literally and metaphorically surrogates we use to assess how we treat anyone different . But the plot thread requires dedication and attention as necessitated by the place of AI as mirrors because of their counterparts. Individuals are more complicated than simply being evil or good, and must be treated using the exact same amount of care. Otherwise, the enterprise crumbles — or, at the risk of being glib, it has lost in distance.
