‘Robot Dreams’ movie review: Pablo Berger’s saccharine take on urban solitude suffers sluggish pacing

A still from ‘Robot Dreams’

Pablo Berger’s Academy Award nominated Robot Dreams is a sugary, animated confection that tries its damndest to tug at our heartstrings but ends up overstaying the sweetness of its welcome. Based on Sara Varon’s 2007 graphic novel, this tale of loneliness and companionship in a reimagined 1980s New York City is visually delightful yet ultimately too soppy and languid to justify its feature-length format.

The film introduces us to Dog, its lonely protagonist who inhabits a cosy apartment in the East Village. His days are spent in a monotonous routine of frozen dinners, solo games of Pong, and wistful gazes at the bustling city around him. This melancholy is upended by a TV ad for the Amica 2000: a do-it-yourself robot buddy that promises to alleviate his loneliness. Dog promptly orders one, and thus begins his brief but joyful companionship with Robot – an amiable machine whose design evokes a smaller, cuddlier version of The Iron Giant.

Berger’s fauna-fused New York is instantly reminiscent of Disney’s Zootopia, but with the softness of Saturday morning Cartoon Network essentials. This detailed world-building is a feast for the eyes, yet the film’s lack of dialogue—relying on nothing but exclamations and pop song snippets—leaves its narrative somewhat malnourished.

A still from ‘Robot Dreams’

The crux of the film is the silent, soulful bond between Dog and his metallic companion. Their adventures—roller-skating through Central Park to Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September” and deep-diving through the coastline—are adorably animated and buoyed by Alfonso de Vilallonga’s jubilant score. However, Berger’s decision to stretch these moments into extended sequences saps them of their intended charm, transforming touching vignettes into drawn-out, syrupy tableaux.

The plot thickens, or rather rusts, when a seaside excursion leaves Robot paralyzed on the sand. Dog, hapless and heartbroken, cannot rescue his friend for months, setting off a series of dream sequences that lend the film its Asimovian title. Robot’s immobilised existence is punctuated by fourth-wall-breaking fantasies—like dreaming of liberation along the Yellow Brick Road amidst millions of tap-dancing sunflowers—but these imaginative interludes linger longer than necessary.

A still from ‘Robot Dreams’

This gentle pacing feels like a leisurely stroll through Berger’s meticulously crafted world at first, but as scenes drag on, this lack of urgency becomes more of a trudge, making it clear that Robot Dreams might have been better off as a brisk short film. The repetitiveness of Dog and Robot’s separate mini-dramas adds to this sense of narrative stasis.

By the time Berger teases a reunion, the film has meandered too long to deliver the emotional crescendo it aims for; the film’s earlier inertia undermines this resolution. A snappier pace or a tighter montage could have injected some energy into the film’s middle section, but instead, we are left with a plodding progression that dilutes the poignancy of the finale.

Despite these pacing hiccups, Robot Dreams does have its charms. The film’s tender exploration of loneliness and friendship springs from a deep well of genuine empathy. However, these themes feel a bit too pedestrian to earn it a spot among last year’s contenders for Best Animated Feature like The Boy and the Heron and Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse. Frankly, as an animated short, it might have had a shot at an Oscar without hogging a slot that rightfully belonged to the more deserving Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem or the outrageously underrated Japanese anime, Blue Giant.

Robot Dreams is currently running in theatres