Juy 16, 2004 | There’s something conspicuously unspectacular about some of the scenes in I, Robot, an exceptionally smart and exciting sci-fi action-adventure directed by Alex Proyas (The Crow) and starring a buff-to-the-max Will Smith. But don’t misunderstand: That observation isn’t meant as a criticism. The visual understatement actually works to the movie’s benefit.

Ever since Ridley Scott set the standard for futuristic cityscapes more than two decades ago with Blade Runner, just about every urban setting in almost every science-fiction film (including Proyas’ own Dark City) has looked more or less the same: noir-shadowed, rain-splattered, retro-futuristic, faux-expressionistic. Time and again, we’ve been bombarded with strikingly similar dystopian imagery, all of it cribbed from the Blade Runner guidebook for gloom-and-doom production design.

In I, Robot, however, the future looks different. Or at the very least, not so doggone shadow-streaked. Early on, when Smith, cast as homicide detective Del Spooner, strolls into the morning streets of 2035 Chicago, the sky is clear, the sun is shining, and the other folks hustling and bustling along the sidewalks are unremarkably ordinary. In fact, the only extraordinary things on view are the robots nonchalantly walking amid the flesh-and-blood pedestrians. And even they appear unremarkable in this brightly lit, altogether humdrum street scene, largely because none of the human pedestrians around them feels any great need to remark on their presence. All in all, it looks perfectly normal to have them at large in such a… well, such a perfectlynormal cityscape. Which, of course, is Proyas’ intent: He wants us to realize, instantly, that by this point in time, the ubiquity of robots is no big deal.

Just don’t ask Spooner to be comfortable with the presence of so many “automated domestic assistants” (as they’re commonly described and advertised). He doesn’t trust robots – in fact, he’s actively hostile toward them -- and not just because, in this version of the future, each one resembles a love child of Casper the Friendly Ghost and a department store mannequin. Spooner is a bigot, impure and simple, and he makes no excuses for indulging in the equivalent of racial profiling while on the lookout for suspicious robot behavior. (Only gradually does the audience learn that there’s a tragic motive for Spooner’s mindset.) Without pushing too hard or underscoring the obvious, Proyas and Smith have some nicely nasty fun with the concept of an African-American cop who’s intolerant toward a mechanical minority group.

Spooner’s worst fears appear to be realized when he investigates the suspicious “suicide” of Dr. Alfred Lanning (James Cromwell), the pioneering scientist who devised the restrictive rules known as the Three Laws of Robotics: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm; a robot must obey any human’s orders, unless the order conflicts with the first law; a robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection doesn’t conflict with the first two laws. Dr. Lanning supposedly took a running leap from the window of his upper-floor office at the skyscraper headquarters U.S. Robotics. But Spooner suspects the good doctor was murdered. And in his frankly prejudiced view, the prime suspect is an extremely advanced robot, nicknamed Sonny, who apparently violated at least one of the Three Laws.

For Spooner, it’s and open-and-shut case. (For one thing, Sonny flees the scene of the crime; for another, the robot responds angrily – almost violently – during an intense interrogation.) Not surprisingly, however, the image-conscious executives at U.S. Robotics – including Lawrence Robertson (Bruce Greenwood), the snarling CEO, and Dr. Susan Calvin (Bridget Moynahan), a kinda-sorta robot psychiatrist – reject the detective’s theory as a product of robot-phobic paranoia. For that matter, even Spooner’s boss, Lt. John Bergin (Chi McBride), has serious doubts about his detective’s impartiality.

Undeterred, Spooner risks life and limb while following clues that he assumes will lead to a criminal conspiracy forged at the highest level of U.S. Robotics. As it turns out, he’s absolutely right – and yet, at the same time, not entirely correct.

I, Robot is based, rather loosely, on the classic anthology of stories by Isaac Asimov. At the same time, however, it’s also based on an original screenplay – Hardwired, a sci-fi murder mystery by newcomer Jeff Vintar – that reportedly was “merged” with characters and concepts from Asimov’s book. (Vintar is credited as co-screenwriter with Akiva Goldman, whose resume ranges from A Beautiful Mind to Starsky and Hutch.) Purists likely will kvetch that Asimov’s much-admired and highly influential tales have lost something in the translation from page to screen. But it seems to me that there’s much here in the way of fanciful speculation and thoughtful meditation – What does it mean to be human? What happens when the lines between man and machine are blurred? – that Asimov would gratefully recognize as true to the spirit of his stories.

To be sure, I, Robot also borrows freely from a dozen or so other sci-fi thrillers of the past quarter-century. (A little RoboCop here, a touch of Minority Report there, bits and pieces of Blade Runner – the storyline if not the production design – just about everywhere.) But the sum of all these borrowed parts is surprisingly satisfying on its own terms as a rip-roaring popcorn flick sprinkled with tasty food for thought. And Asimov’s source material serves as an especially flavorsome spice for the cinematic mix.

The world-class CGI trickery is everything it needs to be to help us sustain our disbelief throughout I, Robot. (Actor Alan Tudyk provides the voice, and served as real-life model, for the digitally-created Sonny.) And the major action set pieces – including those that involve clanking hordes of law-breaking robots -- are suitably impressive.

But the movie’s most impressive special effect is Will Smith’s crafty, charismatic performance as Spooner, a character who grows progressively more intriguing as I, Robot methodically reveals bits and pieces of his past, stealthily hinting that the maverick cop may be driven, at least partially, by a toxic brew of guilt and self-loathing. Smith is very good at the rough-and-tumble action stuff, and even better at snapping wisecracks. (A nice touch: Spooner is a borderline-Luddite who’s conspicuously fond of motorcycles, Stevie Wonder CDs, Converse All-Star sneakers, and other antiquities from the pre-robot era.) But he’s at his best while providing heart and soul for the movie’s sound and fury. And he’s most engaging when Spooner finally comes to realize that, when push comes to shove, a robot really can be a man’s best friend. Especially when your enemies are other robots.