The recently released animated film The Wild Robot, adapted from Peter Brown's bestselling children's novel, tells the story of a robot named Roz who becomes stranded on a deserted island after a shipwreck. Gradually, she learns to connect with the island’s animals and forms an emotional bond with an orphaned goose that ultimately becomes the guardian of the entire island. In the original novel, the story unfolds gently and simply, like a babbling brook, making it ideal for bedtime tales for children, yet it's hard to imagine how it would translate into a film.
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Director Chris Sanders, who previously helmed How to Train Your Dragon and Lilo & Stitch, has once again taken on the role of animation director, yet unexpectedly chose a lightweight children’s book that even lacks a complex plot for adaptation. According to interviews with foreign media, Sanders has always had a strong interest in stories about robots and animals, and this narrative perfectly merges the two. He saw a “unique opportunity to explore the relationship between technology and nature through this film, which is quite rare in animation.”
The simplified Chinese version of The Wild Robot is titled 荒岛机器人
Interestingly, despite the use of CG technology, Sanders is committed to restoring the artistic essence of hand-drawn animation. He was inspired by classic animations like Bambi and works by Hayao Miyazaki, attempting to portray the natural scenery in the wilderness through delicate hand-drawn effects, while also recreating the warmth of traditional animation.
Additionally, my tears during several viewings were primarily prompted by the perfectly matched score. Upon investigation, I found that the music for The Wild Robot was composed by renowned composer Kris Bowers, known for his emotionally rich and atmospherically profound scores in films like King Richard and Green Book.
Grammy Award-winning singer-songwriter Maren Morris created two original songs for the film: Kiss the Sky and Even When I’m Not. Kiss the Sky features in a goose migration scene, while Even When I’m Not plays during the film's closing credits. Maren Morris has also stated that as a mother, she often grapples with separation from her child during tours, enabling her to deeply understand the themes of family and belonging portrayed in the film, which helped her craft music tightly connected to its emotions.
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Based on online reviews, some viewers have pointed out that the story of The Wild Robot feels too "childlike," "dated," and "simple," deeming it unsuitable for "adult audiences." However, I personally believe that the themes embedded in the film are indeed worthy of reflection.
First, the sci-fi backdrop provides a stage to explore the relationship between robots and humans. Roz, as a machine, is inherently cold and emotionless, yet her experiences on the deserted island gradually make her more "human." This transformation isn't just a mimicry of external behaviors; it's a profound inner change. From initially feeling alienated and resistant to the island environment, she learns to adapt, grow, and blend into nature. This growth isn't the typical "maturing" process found in human society, but rather a forced adaptation to her environment.
The film delves into a classic sci-fi question: Can machines develop emotions similar to those of humans? In other words, does Roz connect with other beings by simulating human emotional behaviors, or does she gradually form genuine emotional awareness throughout this process? Philosopher John Searle's "Chinese Room" thought experiment raises questions about the real understanding capabilities of artificial intelligence. According to his view, even if a machine can respond to questions by mimicking human language, it doesn't mean that it truly "understands" human thought processes.
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Roz's growth process also reflects existentialist philosophy regarding "self-definition." Existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre argued that individuals do not possess a fixed essence from birth but instead form themselves through interactions with the world. Roz's essence is originally that of a machine designed to serve humans. Yet, in the absence of human supervision and guidance on the deserted island, she must decide how to act independently. During this process, her "essence" gradually transforms, evolving from a mere machine into an "individual" capable of thought, choice, and feeling.
This theme of self-discovery gives the film profound philosophical depth: every person, even artificial intelligence, can shape their unique existence through choices and actions.
Furthermore, the film's core emotional arc centers on the relationship between Roz and the orphaned goose. As a childless robot, Roz is thrust into the role of a mother, which brings new interpretations of familial love within a sci-fi context.
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In traditional society, motherhood is often seen as a natural and selfless responsibility. In the film, however, Roz lacks biological maternal instincts; she "learns" to become a mother through her interactions with the goose. She does not have inherent emotional capabilities, but as she interacts with the goose, she gradually develops maternal love. This raises thought-provoking questions about the very essence of "motherhood": women are not born mothers but learn to be mothers through the choices they make, driven by responsibility and love. No love is preordained, nor is any responsibility destined.
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Interestingly, at the start of the film, Roz merely executes her programmed functions—protecting herself and the beings in her environment. However, as the plot progresses, her actions begin to "exceed her programming constraints," displaying autonomy and concern for the fates of others. According to a foreign media interview, Sanders places significant importance on the concept of "surpassing programming" in the film. Initially, Roz, as a robot with no nurturing experience, gradually realizes that becoming a parent means facing numerous problems that her original programming cannot solve. This theme resonates with parents who often feel overwhelmed during the process of raising children; which parent doesn't stumble along the way, growing alongside their children, and in this process, revise their own "program" time and again?
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I admit that the story itself isn't particularly novel; in fact, it seems naively out of step with contemporary times. Describing it as "too childish," "too idealistic," or "too fairytale-like" wouldn't be inaccurate. Throughout the viewing process, I found myself thinking that Roz, who exhausts her energy in a snowstorm to save all the animals on the island, has a somewhat “American version of Little House on the Prairie” or a “gripping story that moves America” quality about it. However, even with this light-hearted critique, I can’t help but feel that this is a story I would want to share with children.
Generation after generation, why do we continue to tell our children stories we no longer believe in? Why not instead convey to them that fairy tales are "too childish" and "too idealistic"? Perhaps it’s because that, even while we know the world does not operate as the stories depict, we still hope that children will believe in truth, goodness, and beauty, trust in those wonderful, innocent tales, and wish for a world where, as they grow up, life mirrors the stories we tell them.
