We can surprise ourselves with our own capacity to love, especially when we least expect it. For one robot determined to complete the tasks requested by her owners, affection and other strong feelings are not part of her programming, but can deep feelings be learned or unearthed in a world determined to shut it out? Chris Sanders’ The Wild Robot is soulful, hilarious, and rapturous, but, most importantly, it proves that love knows no bounds.
ROZZUM 7314 does not wake up as a present in the comfort of someone’s home but in the tangled wilderness on an island before scaling a cliffside to escape an impending wave. It does not take long for the land’s furry inhabitants to become terrified of Roz, and they label her as a monster after some comic destruction in the forest. Roz’s purpose is to complete any task a human requires–Rosie from The Jetsons needs to step up her game–and even though she is eagerly programmed to assist in everyway, she fails to connect with any of the critters she encounters.
Tragedy strikes when Roz accidentally crashes into a goose’s nest, killing the mother and every egg but one. When the tiny gosling hatches, it immediately imprints on Roz, nestling itself in her neck and following her like a shadow. Motherhood, or even guardianship, is not something Roz is built for, but she cannot let this tyke fall into the clutches of another animal like Pedro Pascal’s feisty, starving fox, Fink. Catherine O’Hara’s possum momma, Pinktail, has six kids of her own (or was it seven…) offers some advice, but Roz struggles to understand the concept of maternal instincts. As Brightbill (voiced sweetly by Kit Connor) begins to grow, Roz sets goals for him to help him chart his path before his first trek south for the winter. Brightbill struggles to make friends with other geese as they make fun of his small size and his association with who they consider their island’s biggest threat.
Sanders is no stranger to animated tales about found family or how the loving bonds of friendship form between members of other flocks and tribes (like Lilo & Stitch or How to Train Your Dragon). Because of its setting, The Wild Robot continues that theme but feels even more connected to the earth. Before long, Fink is a loyal friend, and Roz’s emotional settings begin to bend to something, she may feel, is startlingly sweet.
The Wild Robot has pointed, robust dark humor that you won’t find in another animated films, but Sanders never lets us forget how fragile life is. I couldn’t help but think of the material differences between the literal makeup of Roz’s profile–tall, sleek, bright white with every gadget, gear and tool you could imagine–in a world full of lush greenery, curious pinks, and a flourishing blue sky. You can almost feel the strong winds nearly lifting you off the ground or feel the grass brushing your ankles. The animation even feels like something entirely new. Fink’s design reminded me of a wooden animal toy sprung to life.
Lupita Nyong’o’s speaking voice is one of her most flexible and agile tools, and it’s calibrated so thoughtfully as Roz’s internal confusion makes way to something warmer as Brightbill grows up and needs her help. Roz tells herself that she is just completing another task, but we feel her heart growing as she worries about the future. It’s one of the most affecting voice performances you will ever hear. Kris Bowers score represents the nature of the island but also the elements that threaten it. In an emotional migration scene, you feel like you are lifting out of our seat to join the journey.
The Wild Robot bucks at the idea that you will never find the place where you belong. It’s an immediately timeless tale of family, love, and how togetherness remains one of our greatest assets–whether you are man, goose, or machine. It’s boundless in its love.
The Wild Robot debuts in theaters on September 27.