Imagine a love story told without a single line of dialogue. Set it in 1980s New York, somewhere between the magic of Central Park and the romance of Coney Island.
The protagonist is a dog—his name is Dog—lonely and a little melancholic. Give him a friend: a cheerful robot ordered online, simply called Robot. Let them meet, laugh, explore, and dance together to the tune of Earth, Wind & Fire’s September. Most importantly, let them fall in love. Then, separate them, right when everything seems perfect. And somehow, make it all work. Because a happy ending isn’t always necessary to tell a great love story.
Robot Dreams is an animated film directed by Spanish filmmaker Pablo Berger, based on the graphic novel by American author Sara Varon. It’s a Spanish-French co-production (including Arcadia Motion Pictures, Noodles Production, Les Films du Worso, Lokiz Films, Elle Driver, and Mama Films) and premiered at the 76th Cannes Film Festival in the Special Screenings section. It later screened at Annecy, where it won the Contrechamp Award, and went on to win Best Animated Feature at the 2023 European Film Awards and earn a 2024 Oscar nomination in the same category.
The 2D animation is simple yet expressive, closely echoing the original graphic novel’s aesthetic. No flashy effects, just clean, crisp lines that leave room for the emotional weight of the story to shine.
Robot Dreams is a film that draws you in, moves you, and when it ends, leaves a hollow feeling in your chest—though not a painful one. The story unfolds slowly, sometimes non-linearly, but never aimlessly.
The most static moment comes early on, when Dog and Robot are torn apart by circumstances beyond their control. As often happens when a separation occurs, everything slows down. Time stretches. Dog, after failing to reunite with Robot, faces solitude. He clings to routine—microwaved dinners, faint hopes of change. Robot, meanwhile, remains literally stuck on a beach. Rusting, drifting between dreamlike sequences and motionless time, he becomes a powerful metaphor for those who, in a relationship, freeze—overwhelmed by crisis or inner change. Between Dog and Robot, now distant, only one thread remains. Or rather… one song, which recurs throughout the film. A trace of their bond, their happy days, and the feeling that it might last forever: Do you remember / the 21st night of September? / Love was changing the minds of pretenders / While chasing the clouds away…
Then comes the ending full of expectation, offering a glimpse of reunion. For a brief moment, it seems everything could go back to how it was. The viewer hopes, imagines, longs for that moment. But the film, the story, resists emotional shortcuts and chooses another path—perhaps more real, more honest, closer to life as it often is. It shows that both Dog and Robot have found new balance, new connections, new directions. It shows they’ve moved on. And even if they never meet again, they are not lost. They are simply elsewhere.
Robot Dreams dares to tell the story of a love that ends without treating it as a failure. No blame, no judgment, no hopeless drama. Just the understanding that love doesn’t always mean “happily ever after.” It can end. And even though Dog will remember Robot, and Robot will not forget Dog, both can find elsewhere a new beginning.
