In the beginning, director Neill Blomkamp was the savior of sci-fi films. But the futuristic renaissance might have ended with his freshmen feature, “District 9”.

Sharlto Copley voices and motion captures, Chappie, in the new film from director Neill Blomkamp. (photo courtesy of Columbia Pictures)

“Elysium” seemed like a worthy sophomore release, but only the graphics held things together. Strike three. That’s the consensus on “Chappie”, an odd South-African tale of a robot developing a conscious. And it’s hard to disagree.

I must credit Blomkamp for creating one of the most tonally obscure films in theatres now. In a story that channels “The Iron Giant” and “Crank”, it’s difficult to tell the goal. “Chappie” has everything — too much of everything: artificial intelligence, a dystopian cityscape in need of some wannabe RoboCops and even a philosophical debate about transcending human consciousness.

Set in Johannesburg, a private tech company solves the city’s crime problem: police robots. But their creator, Deon (Dev Patel), wants more from his bots. After three years, he reaches a breakthrough. His new software allows these tin cans to think for themselves. They can paint and write poetry, but Deon’s boss, Michelle (Sigourney Weaver), only cares about weapons development, forcing our Dr. Frankenstein-in-training to take his work home.

But before Deon can declare, “It’s alive,” a few lowlife thieves kidnap him and force him to turn a discontinued cop-bot into their henchman. Once active, the newborn Chappie (voiced and motioned captured by Sharlto Copley, the lead of “District 9”), engages the world with childlike wonder. He experiences the old “He-Man” cartoon, pets a dog and learns how to “be cool” in an unfortunate sequence where he struts.

While Deon encourages Chappie to live a good life — become an autonomous subject — thieves Ninja and Yolandi (their real names) parent him in the ways of the streets. Rather quickly (shockingly and unbelievably quickly), Yolandi changes her tune and begins mothering her metal, surrogate child. She reads him bedtime stories and encourages his moral and intellectual development. But Ninja just sees him as a profit source. They need one final score or else local crime lord Hippo (Brandon Auret), rocking the most ridiculous hair, demands the $20 million they owe him.

And then there’s Vincent Moore (Hugh Jackman in short shorts and with a mullet), who disagrees with the entire concept that A.I. law enforcers need souls — just as God intended. Imagine Col. Miles Quaritch from “Avatar”, but make him a stereotypically religious nut. His robots are entirely controlled by humans, but they’re more suited for World War III than drug busts.

For a third time, Blomkamp sets his story in a cultural climate riddled with turmoil. The privileged few control the public face of justice, unchecked by government regulations. It’s an old story worth retelling, but “Chappie” does little to update what should be a healthy, ongoing topic of debate. If only the conversation and the film were equally memorable.

You’ve heard of product placement, but “Chappie” might be the most shamelessly obvious promotional tool for Ninja and Yolandi Visser’s South African rap group, Die Antwoord, a truly weird musical experience. Throughout the film, Ninja dons a T-shirt of himself or his partner. And then there’s the soundtrack — lots of their peculiar beats to match the uneven film pacing.

But plugging popular rappers is less distracting than the over acting at work by all the human actors involved. Nobody shines. Not Jackman, Weaver or “Slumdog Millionaire’s” Patel. Not any of the awful bit parts, and definitely not the Die Antwoord folks. Between Ninja’s rattail and Yolandi’s painfully forced performance, it’s difficult to understand how anyone thought this was a good idea.

I want to believe Blomkamp is better than this, but he’s one for three. And with “Alien 5” next on his docket, I’m more worried than ever. He doesn’t seem to understand what made “District 9” such an incredible film, incredibly acted by Copley. Even worse, I fear “Chappie” will infect my enjoyment of his only redeeming contribution to cinema.