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    Lovable Movie Robots Are Coming to Charm Your Children

    The adult world is ever more full of robots. Children’s entertainment feels as if it’s working hard to make them seem adorable.One near certainty about raising a young child these days is that you and your offspring will be exposed to a lot of stories about robots. Another is that the robots working their charms most effectively on you will belong to a new kind of archetype: the sympathetic robot. Sitting in darkened theaters with my 5-year-old son, I have watched any number of these characters. They are openhearted and often dazzled by the wonders of everyday life — innocently astounded by, say, the freedom of playing in the surf, the bliss of dancing with a loved one or the thrill of just holding hands. They might be more winningly human than some of the humans you know.The robots in our fictions used to be more sinister. Our notion of artificial life has included the bioengineered humanoids in “Blade Runner,” the homicidal computer in “2001: A Space Odyssey” and the one that wages war on its makers in the “Terminator” movies. Long before that, we had Frankenstein’s monster in Mary Shelley’s Gothic novel and the golem in some versions of 17th-century Jewish folklore. These were often stories of hubris, of humanity’s inability to think through all that we were setting loose: Synthetic life was constantly breaking away from its creators’ grasp and committing heinous, forbidden acts. Even when the characters were more abstruse, operating beyond the ken of the people they manipulated — like the artificial intelligence Wintermute in William Gibson’s “Neuromancer” — they were, in some sense, gods that we mortals unleashed on the world and then struggled to control.This hasn’t entirely changed. We still enjoy stories about malevolent machines, like the homicidal A.I. doll in “M3gan.” With other fictional robots, it’s not clear if they’re dangerous or merely hapless: Look to “Sunny,” recently on Apple TV+, in which a human protagonist spends most of the series trying to determine if she can trust the upbeat, bumbling homebot left to her by her roboticist husband. That kind of fear and suspicion, though, has mainly been reserved for adults. Children are offered a far more optimistic view — one that has lately seemed to go well beyond the endearing robots of the past, like R2-D2 and BB-8 in the “Star Wars” films, or the Iron Giant, or Sox in “Lightyear.”Take Roz, the main character of the animated film “The Wild Robot,” which came out in September. Like the Peter Brown book series on which it is based, the movie focuses on a robot protagonist that gains emotional complexity after she washes ashore on an island unpopulated by humans, learns to communicate with the animals she meets there and becomes the surrogate mother of an orphaned gosling. Roz changes and adapts; she goes from seeing her care for the gosling as a rote task to welcoming it as a real connection. She embraces the wildness of the animals around her and ceases to be the unfeeling machine that her programming intended. Instead, she becomes an unnatural champion for the natural world — one whose touching incomprehension of how to care for a newborn makes her charming.Or consider “Robot Dreams,” an animated feature by Pablo Berger that came out earlier this year. Based on a graphic novel by Sara Varon, it is set in a version of 1980s New York inhabited by humanlike animals who can, among other things, order build-your-own-robot kits advertised on late-night television. This film, with its theme of loneliness and its surprisingly mature depiction of how relationships change, might be better for slightly older children: It follows a dog and its robot companion as they grow close and then are driven apart, exploring the ways that love can evolve over time. But near the end, it is the robot, not the anthropomorphic dog who built it, that has to make a heartbreakingly human decision.This is all in spite of the remarkably bleak near future portrayed in many of these children’s films. We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Creating New Cinematic Languages, Without Words

    “Flow” is the latest dialogue-free animated film to look to movement and sound to express its characters’ emotions.Like Noah’s Ark minus the humans, a vessel carrying an odd bunch of creatures is afloat after a flood in the immersive computer-animated film “Flow.” Led by a black cat, the group faces the dangers of nature together, often struggling to get along yet communicating entirely without dialogue.It’s the second wordless feature from the Latvian filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis, who argues that animation is more expressive than live action.“You can use that expressiveness to convey things usually said with words,” he said in a recent video interview.We see how the animals behave — including a stoic capybara, a cheerful dog, a regal secretary bird and a rambunctious lemur — Zilbalodis added, and that’s our way into understanding the characters.The winner of the audience award at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival, the world’s most prominent event for the medium, “Flow” is now the Latvian Oscar entry for best international feature film, a category for films not in English — an ironic designation, given that it’s a wordless fable.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Spellbound’ Review: Borrowed Wonder

    Any magic this animated musical has feels distinctly, almost insultingly poached.Princess Ellian, heir to the throne of Lumbria, has a problem: A year earlier, her parents, traveling through the Dark Forest of Eternal Darkness, fell under a curse. That sort of thing happens when you’re passing through a wood “so dark they named it twice” — but let’s not cast blame. The curse transformed the king and queen into roaring, rampaging monsters. They can’t comprehend much or speak, but they can be distracted with chew toys.Ellian (voiced by Rachel Zegler), now 15, has assumed their duties and, along with two government ministers (Jenifer Lewis and John Lithgow), helped hide news of the metamorphosis from Lumbrians at large. She hopes that somewhere, deep under her parents’ new scales and feathers, the minds of the king and queen are still there. So, too, may viewers of “Spellbound” occasionally sense the enchantment zones of their brains lighting up, more as a reflexive response to dim memories of past animated features than as a genuine reaction to the derivative pastiche onscreen.The movie, directed by Vicky Jenson, one of the filmmakers behind “Shrek,” has assembled all the standard ingredients: fairy tale trappings; a treacherous, “Oz”-ian journey across a mystical land; wizard types voiced by Broadway pros (Nathan Lane and Tituss Burgess), for comic relief; and would-be earworms by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater that are catchy in the moment but that you might struggle to hum afterward. Lithgow’s “I Could Get Used to This,” an “Under the Sea”-style showstopper that his character sings after swapping bodies with Ellian’s purple rodent pet, is an exception.It isn’t fair to say that “Spellbound” lacks musical or visual invention. Zegler can belt out a song, and the evil storm that transmogrified the royals is pleasingly lo-fi. (It looks like a scribble-scrabble twister.) But the magic feels distinctly, almost insultingly poached. Ellian rides with her friends on giant, flying cats (shades of “The Neverending Story” and “How to Train Your Dragon”). The idea of emotions made physically manifest is a concept that animated features have used quite recently (“Inside Out,” “Soul”). The oracles played by Lane and Burgess, who argue about having traded in multiple wands for a universal fob, engage in the sort of self-conscious riffing that has become a de facto requirement of family filmmaking.The king and queen eventually find their voices — one assumes that Javier Bardem and Nicole Kidman, reunited from “Being the Ricardos,” were well-paid for what sounds like swift work — but even flurries of excitement, like an escape over a quicksand desert, can’t shake the sense that “Spellbound” has been consciously designed to play things safe. One of its big numbers is called “The Way It Was Before,” words that sound suspiciously like a mission statement.SpellboundRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 49 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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    ‘Flow’ Review: A Cat’s Life

    A cat, a dog and a capybara embark on an epic adventure in this earnest and refreshingly unconventional animated film.“Flow,” an animated adventure film with a touch of magical realism, is a welcome entrant in the cat-movie canon, exuding a profound affection for our four-legged friends.Its hero, a plucky black cat with round, expressive eyes, doesn’t speak a word of dialogue, and acts more or less like a domestic house cat, but under the Latvian director Gints Zilbalodis’s doting gaze, he’s as well-developed as Atticus Finch, a noble character you can’t help but root for. Purring, scratching and scrabbling up walls, this cat virtually leaps off the screen.“Flow,” written by Zilbalodis and Matiss Kaza, concerns the cat’s survival during a flood of almost biblical proportions. The story, simple but compelling, unfolds as a kind of feline picaresque, as he clambers aboard a passing sailboat that drifts from one scenic exploit to another. He soon encounters other stranded animals, including a guileless Labrador retriever and a benevolent secretary bird, who tag along to form what eventually resembles a charming, ragtag menagerie. Their adventures together range from hair raising, as when a thunderstorm threatens to capsize their ship, to endearingly mundane, like when a rotund capybara helps a lemur gather a collection of knickknacks.It sounds saccharine, but Zilbalodis largely avoids the sort of whimsy and sentimentality that might plague, say, a Disney movie with the same premise. The animals act like real animals, not like cartoons or humans, and that restraint gives their adventure an authenticity that, in moments of both delight and peril, makes the emotion that much more powerful. With the caveat that I’m a cat lover, I was deeply moved.FlowRated PG. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Attack on Titan’ Shows that Anime and Broadway Could Be a Good Match

    “Attack on Titan: The Musical” showed what a crossover between two seemingly different types of fans could look like.There are a few things that New York theatergoers can always expect to see on Broadway stages: some Disney, some Sondheim, some Hollywood stars. One may not expect to see the Colossal Titan.What is the Colossal Titan? That would be a giant, skinless humanoid creature, all red tendons and exposed ligaments, that has a taste for humans. This is basic knowledge, of course, for the legions of fans of “Attack on Titan,” the internationally popular Japanese manga that takes place in a dystopian world where people live in a penned-in society hidden behind towering walls.About 2,000 of those fans, many dressed as their favorite characters, filled New York City Center to see “Attack on Titan: The Musical” on the first night of its recent run earlier this month. This particular brand of manga-based onstage entertainment, and the fans who enjoy it, may at first seem like a novelty, but that’s only true in America — and perhaps only for the moment. In Japan, anime plays and musicals are omnipresent.Three sold-out performances later, it was easy to think that maybe the center of a Venn diagram between anime fandom and theater fandom is not as tiny or unusual a space as it may at first seem. Broadway presently banks on pop culture, already established intellectual properties and the fans who invest in them; the success of this performance of “Titan” made it possible to see a future in which anime doesn’t once again get mis-characterized as niche, or separate from mainstream culture, but rather as part of it.In other words, who’s to say that in a few years, anime won’t be another standard sight on Broadway?For now, it’s still uncommon to see what unfolded onstage earlier this month. Each time a titan appeared, it was a spectacle. Some materialized on a digital backdrop, crushing buildings and people below. Others were massive puppets, requiring a small battalion of coordinated handlers. And then there was the Colossal Titan, rendered with an inflatable head and arms.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Memoir of a Snail’ Review: Escaping the Spiral

    An animated tragicomedy for adults tells the story of a woman breaking out of her shell.First things first: “Memoir of a Snail” is not, in fact, the memoir of a snail. It is the memoir of an Australian woman named Grace Pudel (pronounced “Puddle”), who loves snails very much. Grace is voiced by Sarah Snook and rendered in slightly lumpy clay by Adam Elliot, who wrote, directed and produced this stop-motion animation film. It is a weirdly affecting tragicomedy, full of Dickensian turns and eccentric figures. (It is also, lest you be confused by the whimsy, definitely not for children.)We meet Grace, who wears a knit cap sporting two little eyeballs on the ends of stalks, by the bedside of a wiry-headed woman who’s moaning and groaning toward death. The woman is named Pinky (Jacki Weaver), and within moments, she has actually given up the ghost. Soon after, Grace brings Pinky’s ashes outside to the garden, after which she sits on a bench and sets a jar full of snails free. One of them, Sylvia, has always been Grace’s favorite.But snails move slowly, and so Grace has the time to tell Sylvia her life story as the skeptical snail inches away at the appropriately named pace. This life story, too, is full of death: Grace’s mother, a malacologist and lover of snails, dies giving birth to Grace and her twin brother, Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Their father, a French juggler, becomes an alcoholic, and eventually he dies too. Grace and Gilbert are split up and sent to equally bizarre foster families — her to a negligent but nice-enough couple in Canberra who spend their weekends at key parties, and him to a cruel family of cultlike religious apple farmers in Western Australia.Tremendous numbers of bad things happen to Grace as she moves into puberty, then adulthood. She shrinks slowly into herself over her lifetime, which includes becoming a hoarder, marrying a horrible man and, blessedly, meeting Pinky, a strange older woman who becomes her friend and mentor. With every blow, Grace recedes into her home a little more, which she fills with small snails on every shelf, because they make her feel safe. But in recounting the stories of woe to Sylvia the snail, Grace always seems upbeat.Elliot’s style of animation feels a bit like what Tim Burton would have gone for in his own animated films, if his style were far more deranged and grimy and possessed by the spirit of Edward Gorey. It’s also, at times, sexual and violent and somewhat explicit (and, at one point, vaguely weird about weight). His animated figures are people with desires and terrors, some quite twisted. They are haunted. They can be gross.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Piece by Piece’ Review: Pharrell Williams’s Life, in Legos

    The producer and musician gets the biographical documentary treatment — with an unexpected twist.Credit where it’s due: In a sea of formulaic biographical documentaries about musicians, “Piece by Piece,” about the life of the hitmaker and entrepreneur Pharrell Williams, stands out boldly. Not because it doesn’t follow the usual narrative formula. It absolutely does: humble beginnings, rocket toward stardom, crash and then, inevitably, resurrection. That’s all so standard to the genre that it’s practically calcified.No, “Piece by Piece” pops because everyone — including Williams and the film’s director, Morgan Neville — is played by animated Legos.This choice, which was Williams’s idea, comes off less gimmicky than it sounds. Legos have proven to be remarkably versatile utility players in the past decade. They’ve performed as Ninjas and Batman and themselves ever since “The Lego Movie” (2014) opened and became both a staggering commercial hit and an instant classic. The movie was clever and inventive, but the choice of toy worked, too: Legos are recognizable, beloved and, most important, endlessly open to reinterpretation. There’s no reason not to mingle your Lego Hogwarts set with your Lego Star Wars set in the shadow of your Lego Eiffel Tower alongside your little cousin’s Duplo trucks, and that’s the fun of them — the potential for chaos and imagination.For “Piece by Piece,” the Legos are taking on a new challenge: playing real people. Animated feature-length documentaries have become more common in recent years — “Waltz With Bashir” (2008) and “Flee” (2021) are two significant examples — but here the animation is aggressively nonrealistic, on purpose. The subjects, which include Gwen Stefani, Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake and Daft Punk, show up rendered as cylinder-headed, block-bodied minifigures, Lego parlance for the people-shaped pieces. Minifigure Williams and Minifigure Neville sit across from each other, chatting about the movie and Williams’s life. The voices are real — Neville interviewed the plethora of collaborators and artists that Williams has worked for and with — but we only ever see their Lego versions, with some distinguishing facial hair or outfit.The playfulness fits Williams’s aesthetic, which ranges from producing beats and albums for that dizzying array of artists to recording his own megahit “Happy” to collaborating on lines of streetwear, fragrances, eyeglasses, sneakers and skin care. He’s clearly bursting with ideas all the time, and that’s the narrative of the film: This is a man who never stops dreaming of ways to remix the world. It’s his playground, his sandbox. Legos fit right in.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    11 New Movies Our Critics Are Talking About This Week

    Whether you’re a casual moviegoer or an avid buff, our reviewers think these films are worth knowing about.Critic’s PickA double dose of dark comedy.Sebastian Stan in “A Different Man.”A24‘A Different Man’Edward (Sebastian Stan), a man with a condition that warps his facial features, discovers his problems are internal after he gets cosmetic surgery and meets another man, Oswald (Adam Pearson), who has the same condition in this dark comedy written and directed by Aaron Schimberg.From our review:Like many literary and cinematic fables before it — think of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” or “The Elephant Man” — “A Different Man” is really a morality play, of a kind. It’s just that the moral isn’t all that straightforward. It’s about a societal obsession with particular standards of beauty. The fact that conventionally attractive people, or people with certain features and skin colors, tend to encounter more success in life simply by dint of genetic luck is explicit throughout. But that fact is so obvious, and stated so blatantly outright, that it feels like a joke.In theaters. Read the full review.Like two cool cats who just swallowed the canary.Brad Pitt and George Clooney enter their Redford-Newman era in “Wolfs,” written and directed by Jon Watts.Apple TV‘Wolfs’George Clooney and Brad Pitt play underworld fixers — the people you call to make criminal evidence disappear — who begrudgingly team up for a job.From our review:It isn’t remotely tense or mysterious, and its modest thrills derive wholly from the spectacle of two beautifully aged, primped, pampered and expensive film stars going through the motions with winks and a degree of brittle charm. The movie is a trifle, and it knows it. Mostly, though, “Wolfs,” written and directed by Jon Watts, is an excuse for its two leads to riff on their own personas, which can be faintly amusing and certainly watchable but also insufferably smug. It’s insufferable a lot.In theaters. Read the full review.Critic’s PickGirls gone gory.Demi Moore in “The Substance.”Mubi‘The Substance’In this body horror stunner directed by Coralie Fargeat, Elisabeth (Demi Moore) is an aging starlet who tries a new drug that promises to create a younger, better version of herself (Sue, played by Margaret Qualley). It performs as advertised, but with disastrous and disgusting consequences.From our review:Be warned: This is a very gory and often bombastic movie. The logic is also not airtight, especially when it comes to whether, and how, Sue and Elisabeth share a consciousness. … It’s all metaphor, though, not in the least bit meant for a literal analysis. That’s an awkward thing to mix into a movie that turns every subtext into text, which means its constant hammering of its points starts to feel patronizing, as if we might not get it. But it’s also quite funny, and the worse things become for Elisabeth, the harder it is not to giggle with glee. By the end, things have become monstrous and mad.In theaters. Read the full review.Critic’s PickSisters, under the skin.Carrie Coon, Elizabeth Olsen and Natasha Lyonne in “His Three Daughters,” directed by Azazel Jacobs.NetflixWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More