Mark Reviews Movies: I'M YOUR MAN

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Review by Mark Dujsik | September 23, 2021

The problem, perhaps, is that Tom (Dan Stevens) is perfect, but whose problem is that? He's the advanced robot at the center of I'm Your Man, co-writer/director Maria Schrader's amusing and intriguing comedy about a woman, named Alma (Maren Eggert), who volunteers to take Tom home for three weeks. He was designed and programmed for only one purpose: to make her happy. She can't stand the thought.

That's a funny premise, but Schrader and Jan Schomburg's screenplay (based on the short story by Emma Braslavsky) isn't some gimmicky situational comedy, in which the robot or the human is turned into a joke, or some sort of romantic comedy, in which the mismatched pair of a happy robot and a cynical woman gradually learn that they're perfect for each other. This isn't to say the film doesn't possess some of those elements. They simply matter much less than the questions about artificial intelligence, loneliness, and what it means to be human presented within this story. That's what makes it funny and surprisingly romantic—but also thoughtful and clever, with a tone that evolves from silly, to melancholy, and, finally, to bittersweet.

It is quite humorous at the start. Alma arrives at a night club on what looks to be the setup for an ordinary date. A helpful woman, known only as the employee—since her role for Alma subtly changes as her time with the robot progresses—and played by Sandra Hüller, brings Alma to a table, where Tom is waiting for her.

The thought only comes to mind now, but there's something to that initial image of him, sitting with an absent look until Alma is presented before him. He has always been waiting for this woman, or at least, he has for the entirety of his short existence. One of the tricks to the film is how Tom is both a thing, constructed and coded for the sole reason of being with Alma, and an increasingly sympathetic character. When his reason for existence is finally within view, he hasn't achieved his purpose, but he has begun the process of attempting to achieve it. What, really, is more human than that?

That's the core concern of this story, which does begin with some comedic bits, such as when Tom offers the best pickup line that the most advanced psychological profile of Alma could muster, when the robot malfunctions on their first date, or when Alma has a second meeting with Tom, accidentally hitting him on the shoulder after swiping and swinging at all the holograms in the room. The look he gives after Alma hits him, as if this is some sort of normal greeting that he has yet to learn, makes Tom quickly endearing and a bit pathetic, if not tragic.

For her part, Alma is a researcher studying ancient cuneiform at a local university, hoping to uncover that even writing from 6,000 years ago possessed a degree of poetry to it. She's a romantic that way, but in her personal life, she's divorced from Julian (Hans Löw), who is currently in a serious relationship with another woman, and not looking for romance in the slightest. The only reason she agrees to participate in the experiment of living with Tom for three weeks is as a favor for the school's dean (played by Falilou Seck), who's researching the ethics of a potential world in which advanced robots exist within society. What kind of rights, if any, would these entities have?

Such questions, concerns, and ideas are present in this story, but there's a relaxed way in which it unfolds, meaning all of those deeper matters arise from fairly simple and relatively ordinary events and interactions. The comfortable—and, for Alma, often uncomfortable—domesticity of the scenario makes it feel a bit more real than we might expect from the early comedy. As the characters, including the robot, become more defined and vulnerable, that sense of sincerity only escalates.

Basically, Tom expects to live with Alma as a romantic partner, but she wants nothing to do with that. Alma has a small room and cot prepared for him, and despite his expectation that they'd be sleeping in the same bed, Tom simply and without question accepts that arrangement. That's what he's meant to do.

She goes to work, gives Tom some money to spend the day a coffee shop, and, after staying late at the office, finds him standing in the rain, just waiting for her. Tom does a lot of waiting here, until Alma gives him a bit of freedom (a key to her apartment) and some chances to meet other people—at her work, when Julian arrives to pick up a piece of art, at a party.

Those scenes, as well as some other moments (such as when a drunk Alma wants to test out Tom's, well, equipment), give us a sense that there's more to Tom than his devotion to Alma and his status of waiting for her to offer anything like love in return. Stevens, of course, is an easily charming actor, but that's only the surface of a performance that reveals unexpected layers of surprise (when he discovers something like an emotional reflex) and insight. His role is the more challenging and intriguing, but Eggert is also admirable here, especially as Alma's deeper pain and fear are revealed.

Tom is, in theory, perfect, which makes him a lie—a very appealing, comforting, and secure one, though. I'm Your Man knows this, as does Alma. Wisely, it also understands that there's honesty, not in the lie, but in what it represents for this woman, this robot, and for all of us.

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