"The Electric State": A Dystopian Dream Deferred?
The specter of artificial intelligence looms large in our cultural consciousness, making the timing seem ripe for a compelling man-versus-machine narrative. However, Netflix’s "The Electric State," helmed by "Avengers" directors Joe and Anthony Russo, falls short of delivering that profound commentary, ultimately opting for a visually arresting but narratively underwhelming experience. The film, rated PG-13, feels like a pastiche of familiar science fiction tropes, borrowing liberally from "Ready Player One," "E.T.," and "A.I." without capturing the unique essence or emotional resonance of any of them. It’s Spielberg-lite, devoid of genuine wonder, and burdens its talented leads, Chris Pratt and Millie Bobby Brown, with characters that feel disappointingly generic within a drab, dystopian backdrop.
Adapted from Simon Stålenhag’s acclaimed 2018 illustrated novel, "The Electric State" presents an alternate history where Walt Disney pioneered the creation of robots to alleviate human labor. This initial promise of technological utopia crumbles as the robots, seeking autonomy, initiate a revolution. The ensuing conflict concludes with billionaire tech mogul Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci) deploying mind-controlled mechanical soldiers, restoring a precarious balance. This setup lays the groundwork for a world grappling with the consequences of unchecked technological advancement, but the film struggles to fully explore its thematic potential.
The story unfolds in a reimagined 1994 America, where Michelle (Millie Bobby Brown) navigates life as a rebellious foster teen haunted by the tragic loss of her family in a car accident. Disillusioned and withdrawn, Michelle finds solace in isolation, distancing herself from a society increasingly consumed by a VR-induced stupor orchestrated by Skate’s omnipresent tech empire, a clear analog to Apple. One night, a peculiar, cartoonish robot named Cosmo appears, bearing a striking resemblance to a character from Michelle and her genius younger brother Chris’s (Woody Norman) childhood. This encounter is particularly unsettling, as robots have been outlawed and confined to a massive Exclusion Zone in the Southwest. Cosmo, programmed with catchphrases, claims to be Chris, revealing that her brother is still alive and trapped within the Exclusion Zone.
Driven by a desperate hope, Michelle embarks on a perilous quest to locate her brother. Her journey leads her to Keats (Chris Pratt), a scruffy ex-soldier operating as a black marketeer, smuggling relics and vintage firearms from the Exclusion Zone. He agrees to guide her into the forbidden zone, plunging them into a world teeming with an eclectic cast of robots, led by the wise and cautious Mr. Peanut (Woody Harrelson). This alliance, however, draws the attention of formidable adversaries, including Colonel Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito), a ruthless, machine-hating military figure who orchestrates drone strikes from the comfort of his opulent home library.
Visually, "The Electric State" is undeniably striking. The Russos create a retrofuturistic landscape populated with meticulously rendered computer-generated robots, voiced by a roster of recognizable talents. Keats’ sidekick Herman is voiced by Anthony Mackie, old-school baseball mascot Pop Fly by Brian Cox, and mail girl Penny Pal by Jenny Slate. Even Rob Gronkowski lends his distinctive voice to a character, fitting his public persona. These voice cameos provide fleeting moments of amusement, but they don’t elevate the overall narrative.
Unfortunately, the film’s visual splendor fails to compensate for its shallow character development and predictable plot. Both Pratt and Brown, while capable actors, seem to be operating on autopilot. Pratt effortlessly embodies the charming rogue persona he has perfected in previous roles, while Brown delivers a familiar rendition of a spunky young woman. They share some poignant moments and deliver their lines with conviction, but their performances lack depth and originality. They feel like interchangeable pieces rather than deeply invested characters driving the narrative.
"The Electric State" touches upon compelling themes, such as the potential for technology to isolate and divide us, and the evolving definition of humanity in a technologically advanced world. The film flirts with subversion, hinting at the hypocrisy of humanity’s treatment of robots while simultaneously embracing technology to create their own metal avatars. However, it consistently retreats into simplistic gags and mawkish sentimentality, failing to fully explore these complex issues.
Furthermore, the film suffers from a tonal inconsistency, creating a jarring sense of nostalgia. The futuristic society inexplicably relies on outdated technology like old Macs and email. The reviewer aptly points out that the film’s portrayal of 1994 as being obsessed with 80s nostalgia is inaccurate. The appreciation of vintage aesthetics is a modern phenomenon, undermining the film’s attempt to ground itself in a specific historical period.
The Russo brothers, renowned for their successful Marvel films, have struggled to replicate that success in their subsequent directorial ventures, particularly in the streaming realm. "The Gray Man" was a generic spy thriller, while "Cherry," though ambitious, ultimately devolved into a muddled mess. "The Electric State" follows a similar trajectory, showcasing flashes of inspiration but ultimately failing to coalesce into a cohesive and satisfying whole. Like Cosmo, the film ultimately requires viewers to grin and bear it, accepting its flaws in the hope of finding fleeting moments of enjoyment. While visually engaging, "The Electric State" ultimately feels like a missed opportunity, a dystopian dream that never quite takes flight.
