Robot Dreams

There is very little I could say or explain about Pablo Berger’s Robot Dreams that hasn’t already been said or explained by perhaps better – certainly more professional – critics and writers, but what is the Internet for if not screaming into the void? An adaptation of a graphic novel by Sara Varon, the film is wonderful. It is a perfect masterpiece and a moving depiction of friendship and loss.

I hope in 2 or 3 or maybe 4 years people will look back on Robot Dreams as one of the greatest films of all time, and even the most important film since Drive My Car. I may seem hyperbolic, but it is a genuine treasure and its timing could not be better. Like the graphic novel, it is accessible to children, but adults will be the ones capable of understanding its themes and reflecting on their experiences.

New York City, 1980s. Dog lives alone, bored. He sees his neighbors have partners and passerby have friends, while he plays a Pong-esque two-player videogame by himself; player 1’s controller in his left hand and player 2’s in his right. He sees an ad for a build-it-yourself robot and he smiles. He will finally have a friend. He orders by phone and it arrives. Dog smiles a lot more now and looks a lot less bored going out with Robot. They go to the beach, but after swimming all day, Dog finds that Robot has rusted stiff after a nap and can’t move. Dog tries several ways to carry Robot home only to find he’s too heavy, and eventually sorrowfully abandons Robot on the beach, but determined to find a way to rescue him when the beach reopens next summer.

So unfolds a story that, despite consisting entirely of anthropomorphic animals and containing zero dialog, manages to be more human and say more about friendship, guilt, and redemption than the majority of live-action movies with far bigger budgets.

Dog grapples with his remorse for leaving Robot with bouts of anger, seeking new friends, and thinking of Robot. Robot lays still while other animals encounter him and use his body for various purposes, while Robot dreams constantly of reuniting with Dog.

I could talk about the emotional heft of this film for ages. The tender portrayal of Dog and Robot, the cherished memories the images conjure, the adoration for friendships that endure through time, and that’s before getting to the technical aspects of the film, which are equally marvelous.

The animation is remarkably fluid, which speaks to director Pablo Berger’s insight and determination in hiring qualified and talented animators when he set up a couple of animation studio just to get this film made. He had been a fan of the graphic novel and after making live-action movies, decided the time was right for this.

I suppose I should admit that I was a huge fan of his 2012 silent film Blancanieves, an adaptation of Snow White that reimagines the titular heroine as a bullfighter, and his 2017 effort Abracadabra, a comedy-drama about a wife dealing with her husband who seems to have been possessed. I bought both blurays in 2017 and since then have been waiting for Pablo Berger’s next film. You’ll have to trust me that my elation at no longer having to wait does not cloud my judgment here. Robot Dreams is filmmaking excellence in every category you could critique a film.

There are moments of attention to detail that lesser filmmakers and animators would not have bothered with. Dog’s tail wagging in moments of excitement and happiness, even when he’s in the background. Smiles creeping up on the faces of background characters as they interact with others. The Manhattan skyline, Central Park, props, clothes, all so well-thought out and executed. The plot is already so moving, but that the film could be so clearly a labor of love for everyone involved is touching.

And the sound design? As meticulous as the visuals. The soundtrack? I’m sure others have already mentioned that we’ve all heard “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire many times over. But this film comes along and makes multiple uses of it; some fun, some bittersweet, that topples any other use of the song in a movie that has come before. I’ve said before that some films will entertain you and some films will change your life, and I hope I’m not just speaking for myself when I say I can see the images of Dog and Robot rollerskating to “September” in the park with a crowd of encouraging onlookers. That scene is a remarkable example of the things I’ve mentioned: attention to detail, emotional impact, sound, stellar animation. This film is several tours de force.

Dog’s new friendships always turn out unfulfilling but each for different reasons. Seasons change, others leave or have different expectations or are simply incompatible. But the motif is Dog desperately needing to compensate for Robot’s absence. Robot, meanwhile, continues to have dreams about reuniting with Dog, always with an underlying fear that he has been left behind and forgotten rising to the surface. If only they both knew how much the other thinks about them.

Some years ago, after a fresh breakup, a recently-divorced friend of mine remarked; everyone who enters your life will at some point exit your life. Whether it is death, drifting apart, falling out, or moving away. It is unavoidable. Yet still, acceptance doesn’t necessarily make moving on easier. Maybe because some people are irreplaceable, and you will always miss them. There are some people no longer in my life and I can assure you, no matter the time or distance or reason for their exit, I still miss them. How heavy this longing. Once you start thinking about it, you realize time may not decrease the burden. I think of one in particular who died young, before we finished high school. How heavy this grief. I wish those people were still around or alive so I could watch this movie with them. But there are happy memories, and I think back to another high school memory from senior year: Nada Surf. Matthew Caws titled their album “The Weight is a Gift” and sings about hope, growth, and other subject matter similar to Robot Dreams. I played that album on repeat when I got it. It was uplifting to hear not an embrace of melancholy, but an acceptance that it’s OK to be sad.

There is a constant optimism in our lives, and in Robot Dreams, to reunite, to reconnect… sometimes it doesn’t work out. Dog and Robot remain on each other’s minds the same way the people we miss can stay in our hearts, regardless of the reason for their exit. Maybe they think of us, too, the same way Robot dreams of seeing Dog again while whistling the chorus of “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire. How wondrous this love.

5/5