If you want a “Reader’s Digest” version of what’s wrong with “Real Steel,” do a Youtube search for interviews with director Shawn Levy. What a slimeball, right? The man behind “Cheaper By The Dozen” and “Night At The Museum” has promoted “Real Steel” as his breakout piece as a serious director: a classical manly action movie with robot boxers trained by Sugar Ray Leonard. And for half a second, I believed him. But where it should have been machine-porn crank, “Real Steel” is kid-friendly valium; it swipes at low-hanging speedballs and proves hard to watch without fading into an apathetic stupor.

The plot of “Real Steel” bizarrely combines boxing movie tropes and Spielbergian family-fun wonder. Hugh Jackman plays Charlie Kenton, a boxer trying to claw his way out of debt in a cutthroat world where robots have replaced humans in the ring. When his son Max (Dakota Goyo) shows up on his doorstep, he’s less than excited about having to take care of him, but the kid proves to be a quick study and an endless source of naïve determination. The pair then finds an obsolete, run-down robot named Atom and use its unique software to program in Charlie’s old boxing moves. Will Atom take them all the way to the top, and can Max’s adorable cheeks and technical know-how teach Charlie…how to love?

If the film does one interesting thing, it’s making Charlie more of an asshole than the formula calls for. He’s not just flawed or caught up in the struggle but a complete douchebag through and through, and Jackman nails his out-of-touch arrogance and stupidity. The problem is, for the endearing Hollywood shtick to work, Max needs superhuman spunk to match Charlie’s borderline child abuse. So, at age 11, he knows Japanese (from videogames, because that happens) and is a better robot programmer than Charlie.  He’s also really annoying. If Charlie’s terrible parenting has no fallout, what’s the point? In this case, whatever edge it adds to the routine kiddie flick just makes the tone messy. The underground boxing locales are varied and innovative in their designs, but the bratty kid yelling ringside without getting shivved or kidnapped robs them of both grit and legitimate stakes.

The movie’s racial politics aren’t bad enough to cause outrage, but they did give me a headache. All of the movie’s villains, big and small, embody stereotypes of either racist tweaker hillbillies or greasy, nerdy Asians. The possible future intersection of traditional sports and competitive gaming is a goldmine of cool ideas, but “Real Steel” just wants to play easy stereotypes from both sides of the fence.

For seasoned filmgoers,  the robot fights themselves might also prove problematic. They’re vanilla: clunky, pathetic, and without enough budget or vision to get nasty and cool-looking. These machines aren’t quick like real boxers, or heavy and formidable like real giant robots; I guess family films aren’t allowed to have any juice. Who wanted a kids’ movie about underground boxing anyway?