Dog, though he tries to ignore it, is lonely.  Settling in for another night of Pong against the machine and a macaroni and cheese TV dinner, it seems that everyone in Manhattan has found a partner except for him.  Before bed, an ad catches Dog’s attention for a mail-order robot friend, and after quickly dialing the number on his screen, it is only a few days before Robot arrives.  The two get along great, singing, dancing, and exploring the city, but a fateful trip to the beach will change everything.   

Pablo Berger’s animated tale of friendship and growth, Robot Dreams, was acquired by Neon after its Cannes premiere.  Adapted from Sara Varon’s graphic novel, the 104-minute film is wordless with Berger as the only cast member attributed to any characters; Dog and Robot.  Albert Trifol Segarra, Rafa Calvo, José García Tos, José Luis Mediavilla, Graciela Molina, and Esther Solans round out the vocal cast, though their individual characters and contributions are not specified.  After picking up a nomination for Best Animated Feature at the Academy Awards, the film received a limited run of preview screenings for general audiences ahead of the awards show, but its wide release was held until the summer. 

The total wordlessness of the film sneaks up on audiences.  It is carefully deployed so that it is not distracting at first as we witness Dog’s solitary evening routine before bed so that by the time the film expands and becomes more complex, we have adjusted to the dialogue-free – though, notably, not quiet – nature of the film.  As with any creative limitations, be it self or studio-imposed, there is almost always a breaking point.  As seen in Brian Duffield‘s No One Will Save You (2023), a live-action sci-fi film that follows a similar convention, there are moments where this refusal to speak does get in its own way.  It does not seem as out of place given the greater freedom that an animated environment allows, but there are times when Dog is interacting with other animals in any way more complicated than a simple gesture that Robot Dreams seems to hiccup.  Overall, though, these minor quibbles are few and far between and they are easily recovered from as Berger has sunk his hooks in us and we are invested in the vibrant mirrored representation of an animal-run Manhattan giving new meaning to the phrase “concrete jungle.”  

The New York City presented in the film is just a lot of fun. Even the gruffest characters of the bunch are handled with a bright and bubbly design. Berger displays a precise handle over the tone of the film, pushing the limits of the magical realism he created to their absolute breaking point but then walking back.  We are trained to expect and accept this after Robot’s first titular dream in which he is reunited with Dog.  Later, the dreams become more and more vivid and wild but none so more than an imagined romp through town experienced by Dog over the winter when he goes bowling with Snowman. It is a delightful scene that breaks up the flow of the film and really puts us on edge as we can no longer expect Berger to follow the pattern, but we trust that he will not stray too far. 

Robot Dreams is surprisingly poignant and incredibly mature emotionally despite the fun house quality and the shade or two darker than pastels that make up the color palate.  As the weeks turn to months and winter drags on, Dog meets Duck, a live wire of excitement who is eager to explore with Dog until suddenly leaving for Europe. Robot is still rusting away on the beach, scavenged by a trio of rabbits, frozen in ice, and finally, rescue comes during the thaw when Monkey’s metal detector pings above him. Monkey, however, sells Robot to Alligator who runs the scrap yard, and with the beach finally open Dog rushes to the seashore only to find Robot’s discarded leg. He was too late, though not for lack of trying. Dog returns home. Racoon purchases what he can find of Robot from Alligator and refurbishes him with a stereo for a stomach. 

Summer again. Robot and Raccoon are getting a grill ready for a nice dinner at their rooftop lounge when Robot spies from below none other than Dog. He plays their song – “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire – and Dog begins to dance along. The excitement swells in us as the audience, but we are filled with an anxious dread as Robot races down to the street and approaches Dog after all of this time as Dog is not alone, he is with Tin, another robot. Robot reaches out to Dog. Our hearts leap to our throats. But it was all another dream – a daydream this time – and we release a sigh of relief, but like Robot, our minds are flooded with everything that could have been. All is not sad, though; Dog has Tin, Robot has Raccoon. Life moves on, and Berger proved that simple, undeniable – yet, strangely, one of the hardest to accept – facts in a goofy little cartoon about animals in the city that packs an emotional punch on par with searing human dramas like Damien Chazelle’s La La Land (2016) or Celine Song’s Past Lives (2023). 

Robot Dreams is a real treat of a film. It lures us into its workings with a delightful charm, and once we are settled, Berger really begins to call into question how we process and handle relationships, love, loss, joy, and grief. Without being burdened by words, the physics or logic of our world, or a human cast, even, Berger strips back any roadblocks or preconceived notions we may bring to this story so that he can deeply explore the themes of the work. It is pretty incredible stuff that by removing the human element of the story, Berger has created one of the most human stories in recent memory. Even more incredible is just how universally accessible for audiences across all age groups Robot Dreams is so with any luck it will be a film that gets “passed down” from generation to generation and become a shared experience that will be revisited for years to come as it weaves itself into our familiar traditions.