“Queer” (2024) Review 
“Nightbitch” Review 
“Small Things like These” Review 
“The Last Showgirl” Review 
“Cuckoo” (2024) Review 
“Spellbound” (2024) Review 
“Nosferatu” (2024) Review 
“Anora” Review 
Robot Dreams evokes a certain sense of loss and laughter that can only exist within the medium of animation. It has the allure of experimental shorts despite being fairly grounded in its world and premise. For a film with anthropomorphic dogs and robots straight out of classroom doodles, there’s a wealth of relatable adult emotions and a child-like sense of wonder. Without a single line of dialogue, there couldn’t be a more bountiful celebration of the medium.
Taking place in 1980s New York, the character specified only as Dog is more unique than his placeholder name might suggest. He lives alone and spends his nights watching TV while eating microwaved dinners, longing for someone to share his life with. Thankfully, he lives in a world where you can order robot friends off television. Companionship comes via mail when the charming Robot shows up at his door. After some light assembly, the two of them become the best buddies, whether taking a walk down the beach or dancing to their favorite song, Earth, Wind & Fire’s September.
Due to an accident involving weight and power, Dog unfortunately leaves Robot at the beach. While he tries to reunite with his robotic pal, strict security and changing seasons prevent Dog getting back to his friend. As Dog reluctantly moves on with his life, Robot starts having fantasies about getting back together with Dog. His dreams are ideal than the harsh reality that finds him being attacked by the elements and the most destructive of anthropomorphic animals. As time passes, Dog and Robot change. They find new friends and partners, changing themselves emotionally and physically. So even when they finally have the chance to cross paths again, there’s a very tough question to ask if they should and one that is entirely up to them.
Free of a voice cast, Robot Dreams holds the attention well. It has that same curious level of visual allure that accompanies the simplest of shorts. Enough thought is put into this retro setting, which makes it fun to see where it all goes. It can be hilarious how absurd the film treats this exaggerated world, where Dog’s wearing of a towel at the beach when he regularly never wears clothes is a brilliant visual gag. How vicious and cruel the world becomes for poor Robot can be tragic, making his inevitable third-act refurbishment a much-needed end to the more visceral pains. The vibrant colors over the rounded character designs also creates such a unique look, making it feel like a perfect medium transition of the original comic by Sara Varon.
Robot Dreams’s earnest nature is a breath of fresh air for the animation medium and a testament to its emotional drive through visuals alone. It’s a compelling tale for almost any age. Kids can dig the imaginative premise of a robot friend, while adults may find themselves tearing up over the surprisingly mature perception of drifting friendships. There’s a bittersweet tone, but a gentleness as well, making these doodles feel more relatable than for their slapstick. Just enough time is spent with the simplistic Robot to make one care for his plight and the lonely Dog to hope he finds love. They’ll no doubt become icons in my mind any time I hear September, prompting a whistle of reassurance about the joys worth preserving in our connection with others. Beautiful animation like this can make you shed tears for the plight of a dog and his robot.
