Ex Machina might be suitable for a
film and philosophy course. It gives plenty of food for thought. There is ingenious
play with various degrees of embodiedness - to travesty Wittgenstein, Ava’s body
is the worst picture of her soul (Philosophical
Investigations¸ Philosophy of Psychology – A Fragment, § 25).The erotic
tension gives a wholly different twist to the intellectualist preconception of
the original Turing setup.
Standing before a Jackson Pollock
painting, Nathan explains that the greatest difficulty is how to recapture a similar
effect of controlled spontaneity in the robot.
There are, by the way, some
intriguing allusions to Wittgenstein – maybe as a gesture to his grappling with
the problems of souls and automata (e.g. Philosophical
Investigations § 420). Apart from the search engine Bluebook which is explicitly
said to be named after the Wittgenstein text, a copy of Gustav Klimt’s portrait
of Margaret Stonborough-Wittgenstein (Ludwig’s sister), posing erect, cool, composed,
is prominently displayed – in the room in which the female dresses and faces of
robots are stored. (Gender roles is also a theme of the film that might be explored.)
And on one occasion, Ava shows Caleb a doodle she has made and asks “What is
this?” (an allusion to Culture and Value,
p. 24). Caleb then teaches her to draw.
Like virtually all stories involving
artificial intelligence, this film remains a fairy tale along the lines of Frankenstein
or Pygmalion – not a prediction of a possible development. The missing link in all
stories about artificially created consciousness is the question how a human creation
is supposed to be endowed with a life. The
real deus ex machina here is Ava’s supposed
desire to survive. But where does her desire come from? Or rather: where does the
machine’s disposition to secure its
own continued functioning come from?