‘Robot Dreams’: Cannes Review

Dir: Pablo Berger. Spain, France. 2023. 103mins

A love story about friendship, Robot Dreams is a moving animated drama which explores the bond that develops between a dog and his android companion — and what happens when that connection accidentally gets severed. Spanish writer-director Pablo Berger adapts Sara Varon’s graphic novel, crafting a dialogue-free saga that speaks to our universal need to find like-minded souls, as well as our ability to carry on when life leaves us lonely. The film’s visual design is relatively straightforward by modern animation standards, but that only allows the story’s unfiltered emotions to spring forth even more powerfully.

Robot Dreams may be sentimental, but it is also wise

This Cannes premiere could have global appeal, with viewers of any language able to access this wordless heartwarming tale. While perhaps a little too sophisticated for the very young, Robot Dreams will be welcomed by family audiences tired of the adrenalised antics of typical Hollywood animated fare. 

The story takes place in 1980s New York which, in the world of Robot Dreams, is populated by animals that stand upright and generally behave like humans, except for not talking. Dog lives alone in his apartment, longing for company, when he sees a television ad for a robot friend. After assembling him from a kit he receives in the mail, Dog is thrilled by the presence of Robot, who quickly brightens his life with his warm presence and adventurous spirit. But when Robot short-circuits after a day at the ocean and cannot move, Dog rushes home to get his tools to repair him — only to return and discover that the beach has been locked up for the season and won’t open again until next June.

This is the first animated film from Berger (Blancanieves), who strikes a delicate tonal balance, ensuring that this story is poignant without letting the proceedings get too treacly. Because the characters don’t speak, instead exchanging meaningful glances, Robot Dreams could potentially become cloying. Yet Berger’s modest approach proves richly rewarding, giving this slender tale the purity of a silent film. 

The opening sequences, which establish Dog’s big-city melancholy and then his unbridled joy at being around his new friend, are exuberantly rendered, with both Dog and Robot so happy to have found someone special. Earth, Wind & Fire’s feel-good 1978 smash ‘September’ underscores these scenes, capturing these friends’ euphoria and suggesting their exhilarating future together. ‘September’ soon becomes the film’s musical motif, with composer Alfonso de Vilallonga sometimes incorporating its melody into his score, the tune emerging as a sonic reminder of Dog and Robot’s closeness — especially once it is imperilled. 

Devastated that he cannot get to the immobile Robot, who is lying on the sand, helplessly looking up at the sky, Dog spends the next several months waiting anxiously until the beach reopens. Meanwhile, Robot begins to dream of returning to Dog’s apartment, his lovely imaginings always evaporating as he awakens to his cruel, sandy purgatory. Seasons change around Robot, who encounters both kindly strangers and callous scavengers, feeling abandoned by his friend. As for Dog, his loneliness is initially severe, but he eventually starts trying to find other companions, with mixed results. 

Despite some plot nitpicks — Dog seems to give up on rescuing Robot rather easily — Robot Dreams shifts in its second half after the two characters are separated. Robot, who has only known a life of blissful friendship, suddenly discovers what it’s like to be alone in the world, while Dog begins to realise that perhaps he can find others who might want to spend time with him. Berger risks making Dog appear heartless — why doesn’t he visit his friend trapped on the beach? — but the filmmaker is making a bittersweet point about how even the closest bonds can be weathered away by circumstance or the passage of time. Fate has plans for Dog and Robot, who will meet again much later, each of their situations radically different than when Dog first built this android in his living room.

The animation of 1980s New York is bright and lively without being showy, delivering a Big Apple where animals of all stripes wander through existence. (Frequent shots of the then-standing World Trade Center are a sombre echo of the film’s theme of the impermanence of everything.) Robot Dreams may be sentimental, but it is also wise, resisting the urge to craft the sort of crowd-pleasing happy ending one might expect. Rather, Berger goes for something truer, returning to ‘September’ one more time, its meaning (much like Dog and Robot’s friendship) having changed over the course of the film