Robot Dreams (2023)

Originally published in Wildcat Weekly on September 27, 2024

My classes’ Question of the Day today was “How do you know if a person likes you?” It related to our lesson about inferring info from a derivative graph, but it was also fun to hear their thoughts. Unsurprisingly, most students who responded focused on romantic affection rather than platonic. That was fine, but it wasn’t my intention. We don’t celebrate platonic relationships with the same gusto. Romance gets an entire film genre. I get it.

 

Robot Dreams is a film that is romantic…about platonic connection. We see characters swept off their feet by the power of friendship. All the sweet things my classes chipped in that evidenced romantic likery we see between the protagonist and his pal. They glow in one another’s company. Each revels in the other’s joy. They dance together on roller blades like they’ve been listening to the same song their entire lives. It’s moving in the same way a good romance can be. I get chills when these two platonically hold hands the same way I get them when Anya Taylor-Joy’s hand finds Johnny Flynn’s in Emma. I hadn’t known that was possible.

 

More incredible than the chemistry on display in Robot Dreams is its construction. The film is hand-animated by an independent studio, and there are no spoken words beyond the lyrics in its soundtrack. The protagonist is an anthropomorphic dog; his new companion is a robot he orders off an infomercial during an oppressively lonely night. Likewise, the film is set in a New York from the past, and the animators create a living, breathing city that feels as real as the NYC in so many live action films. Robot Dreams teems with the grand possibility and diversity of the Big Apple. The film’s 2023 Best Animated Film Oscar nomination came before securing a domestic release; that’s the kind of response this humble piece generates.

 

I’ve watched Robot Dreams three times now, including once in a theater with a friend…and I’ve reacted with the same emotion every time. A wordless cartoon about a talking dog and his analog pal shouldn’t land with the force it does, but there’s nothing destructive or traumatic here. There’s platonic peril, sure, but Robot Dreams might be the most hopeful movie about connection I’ve ever seen. I wipe away moisture, but I feel optimistic and resilient when the credits roll alongside my tears.

 

I won’t say more, except that you should watch it. Robot Dreams is a crowd-pleaser suitable for all ages, and it’s finally available to rent for $5.99 on most services. You’ll take something positive from celebrating platonic potential for a change.

Sing Sing (2024)

Originally published in Wildcat Weekly on September 6, 2024

If I told you there was a movie about imprisoned men awaiting clemency in New York’s Sing Sing prison, you would justifiably expect a difficult watch. Certainly, watching a movie set in a state penitentiary stirs up numerous questions, and none have easy answers. When is a person rehabilitated? What penance qualifies as sufficient punishment for a violent crime committed thirty years ago? What does permanent incarceration do to a psyche as time passes and one’s greatest freedom becomes a small window facing outward?

Sing Sing doesn’t answer these questions; I’m not sure it even tries. This is a film about men in prison for the foreseeable future, and we see them bear the brunt of their circumstances as they pay for the transgressions of their former selves from the inside of an oppressive prison compound, but the film refuses to reduce these men to their circumstances. Sing Sing is the setting for Sing Sing but not its subject matter. Sing Sing is a film about men in a place that smothers hope and joy…but who find hope, joy, and purpose anyway.

The men in Sing Sing participate in a Rehabilitation Through the Arts program that puts on theatrical productions within the prison. The film follows the participants as they prepare to stage an original comedy. The story of their show is silly—it features Freddy Krueger, Hamlet, and an Egyptian prince—but their commitment to the craft is serious. They interview prospective cast members and discuss the power of theatre. They collaborate on ideas and encourage one another as they perform while waiting for life-altering legal decisions. They are a team committed to a cause, but they are also a family that leans on one another when things get rough—and they often do. It’s moving to watch their rehearsals and see these very different men set aside so much misery to entertain their peers and nourish their souls.

Leading the cast is Colman Domingo, who portrays the group’s leader, Divine G. Decades into a sentence for a crime he didn’t commit, Divine G is a playwright and mentor but also wounded by the time he’s served. Domingo is magnetic but understated, which matches Sing Sing to a T: there’s plot afoot throughout, but the film progresses so organically it rarely feels scripted. Helping that cause is the remaining cast, packed with no-longer-incarcerated alumni from the RTA program. These men mostly lack Domingo’s professional polish, but that reality elevates the film: every scene feels real because it represents what was real for them.

There’s more to say—I haven’t even mentioned Clarence Maclin’s contributions!—but I can sum up the rest: Sing Sing is excellent. It takes a special film to walk this delicate line between the darkness of incarceration and the joy of theatre, but Sing Sing achieves success on every cinematic level. You laugh, you cry, you feel.

If the film interests you, there are a few more showings this weekend at Tower Theater; that might be it for a while. I can’t recommend it highly enough.