Robots

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Memo to Pixar: You’ve got competition—finally.

Robots is a spectacular film. Not since Monsters, Inc. (my favorite animated film to date) have I been so delighted and amazed at an animated feature. Even then, I’m almost willing to concede top spot to Rodney Copperbottom and the gang. Almost.

So why is Robots so great? For starters, what impressed me most about Monsters, Inc. and even Finding Nemo, to a lesser extent, was the detail and complexity of the worlds these films created. I greeted each new scene with joyful expectation, because it was bound to be jammed full of so many little nuggets and inside jokes that it would take several viewings to appreciate them all. You got the sense that the filmmakers had thought of everything, and it is precisely this attention to detail that made the worlds of Nemo and Monsters feel so real.

Robots is enchanting for exactly the same reason, only more so. From the breathtaking, nausea-inducing Robot City transit system right down to the male/female symbols on the bathroom doors, it was obvious that nothing escaped the filmmakers’ attention, and that they were limited by nothing less than their considerable imaginations. As someone with only minimal mechanical ability, I was spellbound that someone could even conceive of such a comprehensive, multi-layered world like this one, much less make it move, talk, and sing. But the folks at Blue Sky did all that and more.

It’s interesting to note that behind all three of these films (Monsters, Nemo, and Robots), you have a team of writers versus a single mind, as was the case with Brad Bird’s The Incredibles. While I thought Bird’s film was okay, it would have benefited immensely from a roomful of post-pubescent guys tossing around every crazy “What if…?� question that came to mind. One mind is simply not enough to pull off a world-building project of this magnitude—unless, of course, that mind happens to reside in the skull of Nick Park (Wallace and Gromit/Chicken Run). But even then, his output could hardly be called prolific.

Another aspect of this film that captured me was the visuals; from the sheer scope of the wide-angle shots to the way the light hit the robots’ “skin.� Robots is the perfect blend of futuristic and modern, engineering and art. Prior to the film, I had no idea that the design team included William Joyce, one of my favorite children’s author/illustrators. But afterwards, it made perfect sense. His fingerprints were all over the place. Bringing the creator of such classics as Dinosaur Bob and A Day With Wilbur Robinson on board was one the best moves Blue Sky could have made. I hope this is only the beginning of a parallel career for him.

Robots also gets top marks because it made me do something that so far only Seinfeld, The Simpsons, and a few stand-up comedians have been able to do: Make me laugh out loud while sitting alone in a darkened room. Fender (voiced by Robin Williams) in particular cracked me up. But just as funny were some of the situations the filmmakers managed to create as well as the dozens of pop culture references and inside jokes. Robots isn’t exactly “laugh-a-minute,� but it definitely gives you a good feeling overall, especially the closing musical number—and that’s saying something, considering I’m not a fan of such things.

In terms of message, you can’t get much clearer than this film. On the one hand, you have Mr. Bigweld’s inspiring message of “You can shine no matter what you’r e made of.� This is good news for robots like Rodney Copperbottom, whose dreams of becoming a great inventor like Bigweld could potentially be threatened by his father’s lowly occupation as a dishwasher. Even though robots like Rodney can’t afford new parts, that doesn’t mean they can’t do something great with their lives.

Enter Phineas T. Ratchet, a slick, next-gen robot with store-bought brains and a plan to enforce a global version of Extreme Makeover. His message echoes that of most marketers of health and beauty products today: “Why be you when you can be new?� With Ratchet in charge of Bigweld’s corporation, the chances of survival for ordinary robots like Rodney are fading fast. Ratchet plans to phase out replacement parts completely. And if robots can’t afford to buy his shiny, new upgrades, it’s off to the scrap heap. Hence, it falls to Rodney and his motley crew of friends to coax Bigweld out of retirement so he can lead the fight against Ratchet and make it okay for robots everywhere to simply be themselves once again. Robots is an anti-consumerist message delivered in the most appealing package imaginable. Let’s just hope Blue Sky doesn’t contradict this message by merchandising the film to death.

The only reason this film didn’t manage to boot Monsters, Inc. off the podium in my mind has to do with characterization and, consequently, plot. While the world of Robots was spectacular, many of the characters that inhabited it seemed stereotypical, underdeveloped, or downright unappealing. Bigweld was a particularly sore spot for me. His decision to take back his company is one of the turning points of the film. And yet it is never clear why he turned his company over to Ratchet in the first place or what finally motivates him to reverse his decision. I had a similar problem with Cappy, Ratchet’s “object of lust,� who comes out of nowhere to help Rodney and his friends overthrow the big shiny jerk. Zero personality, zero appeal. I think sharpening the pencil a little more in this areas would finally push Blue Sky over the top.

Despite such flaws, this film is well worth seeing and re-seeing. No doubt that is exactly what I will be forced to do once my kids get hold of the DVD. However, unlike some of their other viewing choices, I probably won’t mind it a bit.

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The Jacket

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Sometimes a movie doesn’t explain itself because the mystery of not knowing is more enticing than the explanation. At other times, however, I suspect a film doesn’t explain itself because the people who made it don’t really know how it works, and they’re hoping against hope you simply enjoy the film but don’t think about it too hard. The Jacket definitely falls into this second category. The premise is intriguing, but the film as a whole has the load bearing potential of a house of cards.

I realize it’s too late to make any changes to this film, but I would like to respond to it with some notes I would have written on the script if I had the chance to read it prior to shooting:

The set-up: Cool laser-guided missile shots to open the film, guys, but how do these help to set up the film’s visual language? And what on earth do they have to do with the story? This is a psychological thriller, not a Bruce Willis shoot-em-up. You would be far wiser to start the film with a shot of Starks walking down the road alone. That would do a better job of setting him up as a loner/victim, at least from a visual point of view. We can get into the cause of his amnesia later on, if you insist. But do we really need to? I don’t think so, seeing as his Iraq experience never factors into the story.

The premise: Top marks here, guys. What could be more horrifying than being convicted of a murder you did not commit, declared criminally insane, doped up, strapped into a straightjacket, and then shoved into a morgue drawer where you begin to hallucinate about your impending death? This creates the potential for a good time-twisting, whodunit plot, similar to Memento. But watch out, guys: Pulling off a story like this without creating some gaping holes is nigh unto impossible. Just ask the guys who wrote The Butterfly Effect.

Time travel: This is where things begin to break down. First, you called the movie The Jacket, which made me think we were going to discover that this straightjacket had some sort of mysterious quality that allowed Starks to travel through time. However, I think a better title would have been The Drawer, because that is where all the action goes down. The straightjacket is merely a prop. But this title still doesn’t even begin to address the glaring problem of the film, which is: Why would a straightjacket, drugs, and a morgue drawer allow someone to time travel? You don’t even hint at an explanation. How about saying the doctor was testing a mysterious new psychotropic drug? How about creating a legend about a spell that came over the morgue drawer after some criminally insane person was stored in it? How about if every time Starks went into the drawer, he died, and his soul was allowed to wander the earth? How about something?

The visuals: You score much better in this area. All those close-up shots of Starks blinking (along with the wet slapping sound made by his eyelids) will be cool—but be careful not to overdo it. I also like the way you handle the transitions into his visions of the future. One question though: Why are you calling for all those close-ups of the actors’ teeth? Creating an innovative visual style is important, but it must have meaning. Some of these things feel completely random. If this film is about claustrophobia, keep things tight and stuffy throughout, not just once in a while. And contrast these images with wide-open spaces a bit more—as you do in the graveyard scene—just so we can catch our breath.

The love story: As far as I can see, absolutely nothing happens in this story to make Starks and Jackie suddenly fall in love with each other. One gets the sense that it just happens because that is what is supposed to happen at this point in the film. I don’t buy into this relationship at all. In addition, when Jackie suddenly becomes so knowledgeable and aggressive regarding Starks’ death, it seemed like someone had merely done a rewrite to give Keira Knightley’s role a bit more substance. Up to this point she has been a depressive alcoholic. Where did she suddenly discover so much gumption?

The characters: I definitely agree with your choice of Adrian Brody as Starks. He has the emotional depth to make this film believable even though the content borders on preposterous. Kristopherson will probably make a good Dr. Becker as well, but I feel you could add a lot more depth to his role. Through his drinking, we can see that he is conflicted, but why? What brought him to this point in life? You hint at it, but give us a little more. I’ve already told you what I think of Jackie. Dr. Lorenson is also too passive for my liking. She knows something is going on downstairs, but she never does anything about it. Why?

The theme: This is perhaps the strongest element of the film. Strangely enough, it sounds like something you would hear at an old-fashioned tent revival meeting: Death can arrive when we least expect it, but we live like we have all the time in the world. Jack Starks knows better though. So the question becomes, what will he do with the time he has left? Rather than panic and try to avert his death, as most characters in his situation would do, he seeks to infuse his death with meaning instead. Starks doesn’t struggle with denial, and that frees him to act out of his deepest convictions without regard for the consequences. Little does he realize though that his selfless actions are exactly what lead up to his death. It’s almost ironic: Only by losing his life does he actually find it. Reminds me of something I read in the Bible once…

—Overview
—Photos
—About this Film pdf
—Spiritual Connections