Pablo Berger’s Robot Dreams is finally going to be available to the public after a well-deserved Oscar nomination at the 96th Academy Awards. And even with all its awards acclaim and beloved festival reception behind it, it feels as if this film is still going to sneak up on unsuspecting audience members. But it feels like that’s exactly what Berger is intending. Down to the very structure of this film, it feels designed to lull you into a sense of comfort and familiarity. And then, out of nowhere, you’ll likely find yourself deeply overwhelmed. Robot Dreams very frequently forces you to confront your own thoughts and memories in a way few contemporary films do. Coupled with the fact that this practically operates as a silent film, it’s in the adorable animation and lovable depiction of 80s New York that emotional resonance is maximized in even the most minimal of sequences.
The greatest films are, of course, those which serve as a mirror. It may not be an identical reflection that we see, but what’s important is whether or not we feel ourselves on the big screen. If we do, it cracks open all that cinema has to offer. For example, at one point in the film, Dog is flying a kite in Central Park. I have not thought of, or really even seen a kite, in at least a decade. Yet this simple moment is captured with such a gentle touch that I was instantly pulled back 20 years to my youth. I could vividly recall one of the very few times I flew a kite at the large field near my childhood home in Queens, New York. The memories, but more importantly the emotions, flooded back. And in practically an instant, you are able to relate to Dog even moreso. Dog’s overall sense of loneliness, regardless of where you are in life when viewing this film, is palpable. This film, often devastatingly, reminds us of what it means to have companionship in some way. It also depicts what happens to us in the absence of such a person. To find yourself not only caught in the endless routine of quick, frozen dinners on a daily basis, but doing it completely alone. Anything that could be considered a hobby becomes a way of passing the time with just a bit less emotional pain attached to us. Within its first few moments, Robot Dreams finds us in complete understanding and empathy for Dog, an anthropomorphic dog who doesn’t speak. That alone is impressive, but Berger has so much more to provide us with.
Another example of Berger’s film excelling in emotional resonance is how needlessly cruel certain elements can be. Upon Dog building his new companion, Robot, the two head to the beach. For the past twenty minutes, Robot Dreams has been nothing but a charming delight. It revels in the warmth, excitement, and endless possibilities of a New York summer. We see a side of the city that only comes out for a short time before vanishing into our memory for another seasonal cycle. So upon seeing the events that occur at the beach, Robot Dreams pulls the rug out from under us. And then, in what basically amounts to part plot-point, part typical gag, it’s easy to find yourself feeling angry at what Berger pulls off. It’s not unintentional though, as the sadness mixes alongside it for something potent that propels the audience to the finale. You’ve never known anti-bureaucratic rage until you’ve seen Robot Dreams. And who would go into this wonderful film expecting that to rear its head of all things! But again, that seems to be the beauty of Robot Dreams. In a life full of possibility, the gamut of emotions we can feel may often surprise us. While certainly a film that will become beloved for its multitudes, at the end of the day, this is a film about two halves.
There’s Dog, rediscovering the joys of life after a numbing period of isolation. And who does he spend that time alongside? Robot! Built out of equal parts excitement and necessity, Dog wastes no time in setting up his newfound companion. Set to an absolutely glorious song, the montage of their escapades rivals that of the famously beloved (and silent) Up intro. Both are achieving vastly different results, but they both share an ability to move us through observing moments of unabashed joy, and all that comes afterwards. And this sequence of Robot Dreams takes on the very potent, dual-sided idea this film represents. Through this montage, we experience both Dog’s rediscovery and Robot’s discovery of the joys of life. Berger gives the audience the choice of which lens the film can be viewed through, but balances both with a deft hand. You leave the film enriched from experiencing two films worth of emotional impact, both of which leave a long-lasting impression on its viewer. But with some of the Robot sequences in particular, Robot Dreams proves itself beyond a cute surprise of a film. It reminds us of the harsh realities of life in meaningful ways.
The wonderful memories and joy that Dog and Robot share with one another is also dual-sided. On one hand, experiencing them in the moment is an absolute pleasure. But these memories, when faced with the paranoia of abandonment or farewells, cut deep. Life is wondrous and full of opportunities to be thrilled and surprised and moved. But it’s also cruel. It’s cruel in the sense that it’s basically made up of a series of goodbyes. Some are built towards, others more unexpected. Importantly, neither is particularly easier when it comes to managing the emotional weight packaged alongside it. So we turn towards any escape possible. Art, cinema, our very dreams at night. They’re all there to remind us of all else that is possible. But what happens when those dreams, or that artwork or movie we adore so much, turns against us? For example, the duo watching The Wizard of Oz (from New York institution Kim’s Video!) in this film perfectly encapsulates such a fear. It allows the duo to feel better about their situation in life. But in a later development, that escape is flipped on its head. And the same goes for a dream Robot has. To witness a mind turn on itself due to common anxieties is all too relatable. What begins as an exciting development transforms into something darker. But over time, we become more aware that life is an extended give-and-take. We make memories, form relationships, and experience all life has to offer. In return, we are forced to say goodbye in some ways. Those goodbyes can be, and often are, seen as sad and upsetting. But they can also be used as an essential moment to reflect. In the beginning of a new chapter, we look back on all that has gotten us to a specific point, and hopefully, will be thankful for all that got us to that next exciting stage in life. With Robot Dreams, Berger captures that moment of realization so succinctly and so matter-of-factly. In all honesty, it caused this writer to break down unexpectedly with mere seconds left to go before the credits rolled. And that feels a bit like what the film is aiming for when all is said and done. It’s not just a film about how a culmination of our life can affect us in a particular moment. It’s about the culmination of an emotional response, waiting for us around any corner. There’s surprises everywhere in life, and Robot Dreams is a touching reminder to keep our eyes open for any of them.
NEON will release Robot Dreams in theaters on May 31.