Movies News Talk
Adapting the same-named graphic novel by Sara Varon, writer-director Pablo Berger lets simplicity be the road to nuance. In a world apparently shaped by couples, Dog lives alone in a 1980s New York apartment. On TV one night he spots an advertisement for a robot companion, orders it, assembles it, and immediately has someone he can share his life with. Dog and Robot grow attached throughout a summer; their very happy time roller skating in Central Park makes "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire their song.
One day the two head to the beach. On their towels in the sand, they swim, hang about, and nod off. Robot cannot move when they wake later that evening and his metal body is simply too weighty for Dog to carry. He must depart; he plans to go back with the equipment to fix him the following day. When he does, though, he discovers his immobile pal caught behind a locked, barbed-wire fence and the beach is closed until next year. Legal and criminal entrance efforts by dogs are thwarted. He only has till June.
Though I never understood the prejudice some people have toward animation, seeing Robot Dreams made me realize that the language used to defend it has also done damage. When pushed to concentrate on what animation can accomplish—that which live-action cinema cannot—we instinctively highlight fanciful, stylized films with great imaginations that transport us to far-off worlds. Many of my favorite animated movies suit this direction, which is one worthy of exploring. But, to Guillermo del Toro, it might be as harsh a categorization for this media as labeling it a "genre for kids."
Writer-director Pablo Berger's animated comedy-drama Robot Dreams runs without voice acting. The movie centers on a dog living alone in New York City who chooses to create a robot friend in the 1980s, therefore setting the two on many poignant adventures around Manhattan together.
The emotional elements of this light, hilarious, colorful film are very rich; if I have made this seem too much like a meditation drama, that is only because From The Wizard of Oz and the musicals of Busby Berkeley to the form-bending humor of Buster Keaton, Robot's dreams often lead him into fantasy realms inspired by classic cinema; it's not necessary to notice the references to find these sequences joyful. The film employs a deft sense of humor, with visual gags mocking the ways animation could distort reality.
I also haven't highlighted that the film lacks dialogue, but only because, at the risk of cliche, I missed entire sections where I forgot that was the case. The movie is edited so well that sentences just aren't required; the characters are animated with such clarity of expression. Apart from "September," a concept that becomes our emotional anchor, the film is full with noises and melodies that give this universe depth. Berger is obviously committed in recreating this period of New York life, and his immersive technique defines our relationship with the storyline as well.
What Berger accomplishes going forward depends on this set-up's simplicity. By now we are rather committed to the bond between Dog and Robot; from the time they are apart, it is clear what will follow. Events work to keep them apart, hence the rest of the film has to be about their drive to get back together. But Dog's acceptance of that reality and his awareness that he has to wait months to save his friend indicate to us that the filmmakers aren't particularly interested in running this narrative like a quest.
Robot Dreams is far more fascinated in real life, where people split off by fate cannot spend every waking second in the process of reunion. They carry on living through their time apart. For Dog, that means returning to attempt to overcome his loneliness in his life, to meet fresh people or maybe launch a relationship. For Robot, who is still new to the planet (and cannot move), that means dreaming, coming to understand new fears and wants, and learning from every chance interaction.
And my response would be a strong yes for anyone asking whether anything I have likened to Past Lives is appropriate for their children. This is genuinely entertainment spanning all ages. I'll even go so far as to recommend kids should view Robot Dreams. Along with him, we travel through the emotional growth of a robot, partly by seeing and analyzing how others behave. Though that is more focused on younger children, the emotional life of the characters is calibrated just the right way to teach empathy, and even show its value, much as I felt about My Father's Dragon.
If you find Robot Dreams showing up in your region, I wouldn't wait for it to become digital; I was fortunate enough to see it in a theater. The way the narrative is written takes as much use of the large canvas and immersive sound systems as any flimsy blockbuster. You experience it, though, and I'm sure it will find its way into your heart.