As the story moves along with an almost medicating dullness, so antiseptic and square and insulated from any fun or spark or non-self-seriousness, the entire movie has that plastic-wrap feel of a hermetically-sealed Hollywood vanity project.
The dejected Will Smith is forced to inject himself with pain relief. The label warns that the drug could cause extreme drowsiness and impaired vision. One can only imagine that Will was suffering from both when he agreed to film this daft script.
Part Scientology tool, part extremely ill-conceived familial gift (wouldn't it be better to let your kid go to school than ask him to endure endless takes in a greenscreen studio?) and part blatant money-making attempt.