The Wild Robot
Chris Sanders once described his approach to “The Wild Robot” as “a Monet painting in a Miyazaki forest.” As insane as that may sound, he pulled it off.
From its opening frames, the artistry of “The Wild Robot” bursts through every image. It’s a welcome break from the blandness we’ve come to expect from American CG-animated efforts; where they seem to barely consider the visuals, Sanders and his team remind us how hollow most of the competition is. Their approach isn’t the cold, sterile feel that you get from so many modern cartoons. It’s more like moving art; you can almost see the brushstrokes on a living painting. In that sense, it owes more to films like the great “Wolfwalkers” or the work of Studio Ghibli than American studio cartoons. There are hundreds of shots in this film you could print and frame on a wall. One could watch “The Wild Robot” with the sound off entirely and still have a rewarding experience—turn it on and you have one of the best animated films of the decade.
Lupita Nyong’o lends her perfect voice to a robot named ROZZUM 7314 (or “Roz”) who crashes onto an uninhabited island. Roz is programmed to be an assistant for whoever purchases her, so she first scours her new home for a master, seeking to complete any sort of mission before she activates a signal to return home. These opening scenes of a robot trying desperately to be helpful to any creature that needs it are surprisingly hysterical, rich with heart and humor, and a perfect table setter for what’s to come.
The journey leads her to cross paths with some of the more rambunctious animals in this remote locale, including a fox named Fink (Pedro Pascal), an opossum named Pinktail (Catherine O’Hara), a grizzly bear named Thorn (Mark Hamill), and a beaver named Paddler (Matt Berry). She also quickly learns that nature is a terrifying place. One of many wonderful things about Sanders’ adaptation of the book by Peter Brown is how unafraid this film is of death, which used to be a subject that children’s fiction helped little ones understand but now seems forbidden in animation. Nature is adorable, but nature can kill you.
Roz comes face to face with death when she accidentally falls on a nest, killing a mother bird and almost all of her eggs, except for one. When that egg cracks, it reveals a runt that Roz names Brightbill (Kit Connor), who imprints on the robot as his mom. If nature had its way, Brightbill wouldn’t survive—runts don’t make it in the wild. But most runts don’t have a robot as a mother.
“The Wild Robot” shares DNA with films like Sanders’ masterful “How to Train Your Dragon” and another personal favorite, “The Iron Giant”— one more timeless tale of a robot who defies its programming. However, Sanders isn’t content to merely mimic his inspirations, finding a unique voice in its blend of tension, humor, and grace.
This is a movie that’s bursting with unexpected humor—often in jokes about how easy it is for animals to die in the wild—but also feels deeply heartfelt in every frame, and only rarely in a manner that feels at all manipulative. The visual artistry in the painterly compositions comes through in other elements too, from the all-around stellar voice work (especially Nyong’o, who finds nuance in what could have been a cold vocal turn) to a propulsive score by Kris Bowers. You can tell when a project like this is made for profit vs. when it’s made for artistic passion, and everyone involved in “The Wild Robot” poured their hearts into it. You can see it. You can hear it. You can feel it. And that truly matters, especially in an era when so much children’s entertainment feels like nothing more than a cynical cash grab. This is made from the heart in every way. And that’s what allows it to connect with yours.
“The Wild Robot” is a film about mechanical beings and wild creatures, but it’s also a movie about parents and children. Roz learns the great difficulty of being a mother, discovering that sometimes the best way to care for a child is to discard the programming we thought would teach us how. Sometimes you just have to trust your heart. Sometimes you need to be wild.
