THE WILD ROBOT - Mark Reviews Movies

The Wild Robot, Universal Pictures

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Review by Mark Dujsik | September 26, 2024

The most impressive element of The Wild Robot isn't its animation, which is striking, but the way it pulls on the heartstrings without ever feeling manipulative. Writer/director Chris Sanders' film may introduce too many ideas and narrative threads for its simple tale, but the emotional core of that story is true, pure, and quite affecting.

It is, at the center, a story of parenthood—specifically of the adoptive variety. A robot called ROZZUM 7134, which is programmed to aid with and perform whatever tasks it is assigned, crashes on a remote island and, through a lengthy series of misadventures and misfortunes, winds up the unlikely mother of a gosling, the runt of the nest, that has no family of its own. Yes, the robot, the goose, and the island's other animal inhabitants, including a wily and lonely fox that helps the robot raise the fowl, talk as in any animated movie with kids in mind, but in the film's best moment, there's a level of wisdom and maturity here that belies the cutesy elements of the material.

There is, for example, the character of the robot, who eventually calls herself Roz and is voiced by Lupita Nyong'o with an endearing mixture of hard-and-fast programming and intrinsic warmth. It's quite the accomplishment of a vocal performance, really, in that the character comes across as both robotic and human without sacrificing or emphasizing either quality.

The character herself is quite the feat, too. She arrives on the island in a crate, following some error in the delivery process from the factory that built her, and emerges with only goal in mind: to find her new owner and perform whatever tasks the customer needs doing. The comedy of the introductory section of the story is abundant, as Roz roams the island's lush landscapes looking for anyone or, more specifically under the circumstances, anything with a job for her to do. Since there are only animals that fear her on the island, the whole, useless process takes on a certain degree of tragedy. What possible purpose could a worker robot serve without any work to be accomplished?

Roz is attacked by creatures as small as an acorn-hurling squirrel and as menacing as a big bear that doesn't appreciate this robot looking into its cave. The animals have such distinct personalities, without saying a word, that one does wonder if Sanders might have pulled off the tricky notion of keeping them speechless.

Even the mere thought of that doubtful approach succeeding should give one an idea of the detail of the animation here. It's computer-generated, to be sure, but the artists give both the backdrops and the characters a line-free, fluid look that's more reminiscent of an Impressionist painting than a cartoon. A more appropriate comparison might be that it looks like something from a storybook, since the film is based on one by Peter Brown.

Going back to the robot, though, she is an engaging presence, bumbling her way through unneeded jobs, and when the plot does arrive, it's by way of her accident-prone nature in this environment. She tumbles down a hill and lands directly on a nest, killing a goose and crushing all but one of its eggs. Realizing there's something inside the surviving egg, Roz protects it in her body, and when the egg hatches, she eventually takes to ensuring that the gosling can grow up, learn to swim and fly, and, before winter arrives, migrate to a warmer climate.

Help in this task comes from various animals: a possum (voiced by Catherine O'Hara) that has had too many offspring to worry about parenting anymore, a hawk (voiced by Ving Rhames) that agrees to teach the young goose to fly with its short wings, a beaver (voiced by Matt Berry) that's trying to bite through a large tree, and a fox named Fink (voice of Pedro Pascal). Fink's an outcast, apparently rejected by its parents, like Roz and the gosling, which the robot names Brightbill (voice of Kit Connor). The three form an odd little family unit based on the fact that none of the other animals really wants them around.

It's all quite sweet, especially as the gosling imprint on the robot, nuzzling against her metallic frame, and as Roz faces the frustrations, worries, and rewards of being a parent to this helpless creature. She wants nothing to do with the bird at first, and soon enough, Roz has to confront the idea of Brightbill flying away, starting a life on its own, and not needing her assistance any longer.

We're not dealing with allegory or fable at that point, and that directness is probably a major component of why foundation of the story is so heart-warming. The characters may be a robot and animals, but they talk about the contradictions of parenthood, feeling alone and abandoned, and needing to work together in order to survive. Sanders treats it seriously and with sincerity, and that makes a difference.

The third act does become bogged down in new ideas, including a world in ruin beyond the island and a human refuge where nature is treated as something to be controlled, and by forcing an action-oriented climax, in which nature must push back against technology. These elements are either underdeveloped (Brown has a series of books, so that might be cleared up with a sequel or two) or not quite in the tender spirit of what has come before them, but regardless, the heart of The Wild Robot remains strong and overshadows such qualms.

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