Pablo Berger, renowned for directing Torremolinos 73, a landmark of Spanish cinema from 2003, and Blancanieves, a modern fairy tale inspired by silent cinema aesthetics from 2012, ventured into animation with Robot Dreams in 2023. The project marked a significant shift in his career, signaling a sustained interest in cross-genre storytelling that blends live action sensibilities with the rhythmic imagination of animation. The film drew attention at the Cannes Film Festival and earned recognition at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival, underscoring Berger’s capacity to bridge audiences across different cinematic languages. Adapted from Sara Varon’s graphic novel of the same name, Robot Dreams follows the evolving bond between a dog and a robot, a duo whose companionship becomes a lens on friendship, loyalty, and what it means to grow up in a world that often feels indifferent to the small, quiet miracles of everyday life.
Robot Dreams is celebrated for its technical polish and its ability to conjure a vivid New York City of the 1980s, a setting that becomes more than a backdrop. The visuals earn their keep through a harmony of design and motion, where character animation carries both charisma and subtle emotion. It is a film that finds beauty in the specifics of a city’s texture—from the glow of street lamps to the hum of late-night avenues—and invites viewers to wander through streets that feel both timeless and unmistakably lived-in. The musical score stands out as well, weaving in moments that recall the whimsy and courage of classic cinema. The film’s title song, expertly integrated into the narrative, adds another layer of storytelling that resonates with the film’s broader themes of memory, hope, and the implausible magic that can surface in ordinary life. The storytelling approach relies on visual cues and expressive performance rather than dialogue, turning the struggle and companionship of its protagonists into a universal language that speaks to a broad audience.
Yet the film’s tonal profile registers as unusual, perhaps even enigmatic. It achieves beauty and technical mastery in many scenes, but questions linger about its intended audience. Some viewers may sense a tension: the work feels too light for adult viewers seeking robust, adult themes, while it can feel too restrained or solemn for younger audiences craving more overt entertainment. This ambiguity is not merely a flaw; it contributes to the film’s distinctive charm. It invites a conversation about what animation can be as an art form—how a story can be earnest and devastatingly emotional without leaning on conventional dialogue or obvious stakes. In Berger’s hands, Robot Dreams becomes a meditation on friendship that does not rely on exposition, instead inviting audiences to infer meaning from action, light, and sound. This approach might surprise those who expect a conventional narrative structure, but it rewards patient attention with moments of quiet resonance that linger after the credits roll.