113: Robot Dreams

I've been playing a little catch-up this week with 2024 movies. It's been a weird year, given that movie production ground to a halt last year with the joint actors' and writers' strikes. Big-budget movies this year have felt a little scattered, especially after last year's incredible crop of movies. That said, I'm not a box-office watcher, and I've appreciated that the 2024 movies I've seen so far have been pretty weird, including the two I caught up with this weekend.

One of the two, Robot Dreams, is an animated movie about a dog in a fantasy version of 1980s New York City populated by anthropomorphic animals. The dog is lonely, so he buys himself a robot companion. The movie is one of those liminal releases where it could be considered a 2023 release or a 2024 release, the kind of niche arthouse fare that slips through the cracks during the catch-up scrum at the end of the year. It was nominated for an animation Oscar for 2023, but didn't get a theatrical release until this summer; depending on where you live, you might be able to catch it in a theater still, although it isn't available yet to stream.

Robot Dreams could be considered a silent movie. The only dialogue comes from a couple of diegetic songs, including Earth Wind and Fire's "September." Most other communication comes through meaningful glances, the ghost of a smile, the wag of a tail, a shoulder slump. The thrust of the movie's plot comes from its characters' sense of loneliness, of being stuck in a place where no one is inclined to help, because they're all caught up in their own heads too. It's BoJack Horseman without the acidic self-loathing; these anthropomorphic animals are generally sweet, rendered in rounded lines and soft pastel colors. The animation pays close attention to small gestures, and the production design is madly in love with a slightly grubby image of New York City in a way that romanticizes the grime without idealizing it too much.

The movie's more concerned with a mood than with plot; it's colorful and engaging and told simply enough that it might just be an ideal movie for families to watch together. There's no frenetic action; the movie's more interested in marinating in its setting and tone. It's sweet, and if it edges up to the border of syrupy, it's rescued by its acceptance of melancholy feelings without wallowing in them. A lovely mood for a summer evening.

What I wrote:

A review of Ti West's MaXXXine for Seeing & Believing. I am not a fan of the X trilogy; if anything, MaXXXine helped me figure out precisely why.

I also have an upcoming essay in my friend Ethan Warren's publication, Broad Sound! It drops at the end of the month, and you can pre-order it here.

What I'm watching:

The other 2024 movie I caught up with this weekend: a Vietnamese film called Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell. More to come soon, most likely over at Seeing & Believing.