If you assume animated movies about robots are all existential drama and high-octane action, Robot Dreams will pleasantly surprise you. Directed by Pablo Berger and based on Sara Varon’s graphic novel, this Oscar-nominated animated feature is an emotionally powerful, gentle tale of friendship, memory, and the poignancy of change, communicated with not a line of dialogue.
In a retro take on 1980s New York, Robot Dreams meets Dog, a solitary individual in a world inhabited by anthropomorphic creatures. When an infomercial for an Amica 2000 build-it-yourself robot companion airs late one night, he decides to buy one. The outcome is a kind, instant depth of connection.
Dog and Robot grow inseparable, their lives filled with tiny pleasures, urban escapades, and a connection that seems effortlessly genuine. Their friendship is like a love letter to gentle companionship, expressed through animation that is alive, colorful, and brimming with nuanced emotional expression.
So effective is Robot Dreams because it can convey so much without words. Through thoughtful animation and bold visual storytelling, director Berger, animation director Benoît Féroumont, and art director José Luis Ágreda craft a world in which every movement and look is imbued with emotion.
The slant of Robot’s head, the wag of Dog’s tail, or a wordless stop in a busy street says it all. The animation is subtle and stylized, but never simplistic—every frame is lovingly tended, so that the audience can share the characters’ pleasures and pains intensely.
The environments are no less important. The film’s representation of late-1980s East Village is full of texture: foggy urban landscapes, busy sidewalks, VHS stores, and the shadow of the Twin Towers. To viewers who’ve ever been attracted to a nostalgia for an environment or an era—especially one that is gone—they offer an emotional resonance that rounds out the story. It’s a love letter to a particular New York era, but it was caught with affection and understated respect.
Although Robot Dreams is accessible for younger audiences—it’s light on scares and the edgiest moment is a cartoonish middle finger—it’s adults who will likely connect most deeply with its themes.
The film explores the fragility of connection, the ache of separation, and the way memories continue to shape us long after we’ve said goodbye. In doing so, it softly evokes the affective space of movies such as Inside Out or WALL-E, but it finds a tone that is all its own.
One of the most moving threads throughout the film is its use of Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September.” The song is an emotional touchstone for Dog and Robot, a reminder of joy, companionship, and loss. It carries a richness of wistful sweetness, reminding us how music has the ability to anchor us in both beautiful and painful memories.
If what you’re hungry for is an animated film that touches the heart as much as it astounds the eye, Robot Dreams is a reserved but powerful experience you’ll not quickly forget.