Ivan Radford | On 18, Aug 2024

Director: Pablo Berger
Cast: Ivan Labanda, Graciela Molina
Certificate: PG

Do androids dream of electric sheep? Or do they just dream of friends? That might sound like an overly ponderous starting point for a cartoon about a robot and a dog who strike up a relationship, but Robot Dreams brushes past philosophical musings and focuses more on the word “friend” – the result is a buzzing, warm and surprisingly moving tale that plays with expectations as much as it as pulls on the heartstrings.

Pablo Berger, who previously gave us the inventive Blancanieves, has lost none of his wit or creativity as he introduces us to Dog, a lonely figure in 1980s New York who sees an ad for a robot companion and orders one. Robot arrives in the post and they fall head over heels into a deep friendship, going on boat rides and dancing to Wind & Fire’s September on roller-skates. But when robot ends up rusted and paralysed on a beach that’s fenced off by authorities, the exuberant duo are separated.

There’s no question here about whether Robot has a soul or a heart – we take on face value that he has feelings, as Berger immerses us in his heart-aching dreams for a reunion with his best friend. Dog returns to solitude, but has dreams of his friend too, and what unfolds is a poignant reflection on isolation, longing and heartbreak. When is it OK to move on from someone? Can a friend ever be replaced? These things are vividly evoked by Berger’s script, co-written with Sara Varon, and based on Varon’s own graphic novel.

Like the source material, there’s no dialogue here, which makes such big-feeling questions remarkably accessible to all ages, enhancing and not diminishing their impact by letting them linger in the air without labels. At the same time, Berger’s animation is freed up to express itself, leaping from the clean and simple depiction of the city’s vibrant, animal-stuffed community to wistful observations of birds learning to fly or – in one standout surreal throwback to the golden age of musicals – a sequence involving tap-dancing sunflowers.

There’s precision in the freewheeling imagination – September returns again and again to cue up thoughts and emotions, as Berger beautifully taps into the way that music and memories organically intertwine. That wistful knack for portraying the human condition makes Robot Dreams an oddly profound mix of tragedy and comedy, a nostalgic ode to a more innocent view or technology – but, most of all, a celebration of the boundless optimism and possibilities that comes with forming a new connection with someone else.

Add to Watchlist