At the beginning of Pablo Berger’s Robot Dreams, Dog is lonely.
His evenings are spent channel-surfing in his pokey New York apartment until one day he sees a television advert for a robotic buddy. What ensues begins as a freewheeling but deeply felt meditation on the nature of relationships. Based on Sara Varon’s 2007 graphic novel of the same name, Berger’s dialogue-free animated feature is an exceptionally nuanced comedy-drama that premiered in Cannes before going on to understandably win the Contrechamp Grand Prix for Best Film at Annecy. Come for the appealing animation, stay for a love letter to falling hard for someone and all of the joys and disasters that entails.
When the film joins him, Dog’s life is one of microwave mac’n’cheese while sat in the glow of the TV, flicking through soulless comedies and infomercials. In the apartment block across the street, Dog hears and then sees a couple cuddled on the sofa, giggling and joking, enjoying companionship. Although Robot Dreams eschews spoken dialogue – much like the graphic novel it is based on – the loneliness of its protagonist pooch is palpable. Suddenly, an advertisement explodes onto the TV in front of him offering a cure for loneliness in the form of the Amica 2000, a new metallic mate. Their friendship flourishes immediately and they race around the city having a whale of a time. One day, however, after they fall asleep on the beach, Robot finds that he can’t move, and Dog doesn’t have the strength to carry him home. He promises to return the next morning with help, but when he arrives the beach has been closed for the season and Robot is stuck there until the following summer.
The early passages of Robot Dreams are incredibly charming and fun, but it is at this moment that the film begins to blossom into something far more complicated and profound. Dog’s decision to abandon Robot for the night is heart-wrenching, but his subsequent inability to return to his pal sees the drama morph into something entirely different. While Dog makes a couple of ill-fated attempts to gain access to the beach – through the proper channels of city hall (denied!) and with a pair of wire cutters (arrested) – he soon comes to the realisation that he will have to wait the closure out. In the meantime, he goes on living his life while Robot lies paralysed in the sand, rust forming on his metallic frame, then ice covering his body.
In this enforced relationship interval, a variety of different miniature narratives about potential friendships emerge. In diverging ways, they each look at the notion of connection with others from alternative angles. For Dog this involves being rebuffed by those that look down on him when he makes himself vulnerable but also a short-term, perhaps romantic, dalliance with Duck. For Robot, there are a trio of rowing rabbits who spring a leak and steal his leg to plug the hole, but there is also a mother bird who uses his body as shelter for her nest and the fledgling flights of her brood of three chicks. On each occasion, the film wrestles with the changeable nature of relationships and the imbalances of give and take that make them up. These are all presented as comedic, sometimes silly asides, but their cumulative effect is not lost.
The interaction between the simplistic and more nuanced is rife throughout the film and it is easy to see how it will be enjoyed by audiences of all ages. Dog and Robot are cute cartoon creations, captured in clean 2D animation, and often beaming from ear to ear – anyone whose heart doesn’t skip a beat when Dog’s tail starts to wag furiously at the approach of the delivery man, doesn’t have one. Still, around them is an 80s New York City that is notably rough around its edges. From the chain-smoking punks that give Robot the finger, to the bear collecting empty plastic bottles from the bin on the subway, there is a real world unraveling in the frame around them, perhaps hinting at the direction in which the story will ultimately go.
At the same time, what makes Robot Dreams so exquisite in its pitch, is that it doesn’t feel like a film with one layer for child audience members and one for adults. Sure, there are little details sprinkled throughout that will go over younger heads, but, actually, the narrative is both simplistic and complicated enough to serve all viewers at the same time on the same level. In that respect, it feels a lot like the more precisely attuned efforts of Pixar, though with its own uniquely characterful visual style. The maturity of its ultimate revelations of friendship are breathtakingly touching, without ever being moribund, or wallowing in despair. In being about what it means to be a friend, acknowledging the mistakes we make, being about how can we move on, and letting go without forgetting, it’s beautifully life-affirming.
Director, screenplay: Pablo Berger
Producers: Ibon Cormenzana, Angel Durandez, Ignasi Estape, Pablo Berger
Editing: Fernando Franco
Music: Alfonso de Vlallonga, Yuko Harami
Sound: Steven Ghouti, Fabiola Ordoyo
Art direction: Jose Luis Agreda
Production: Arcadia Motion Pictures (Spain), Les Films du Worso, Noodles Production (France)
Venue: Oldenburg Film Festival
No dialogue
102 minutes
