‘The Wild Robot’ Film Differs From The Novel — And Its Message Is As Bold And Timely As Ever

Parenthood is an act often taken for granted. I know this personally as the mom of a 6-year-old daughter and a 4-year-old son. I also understand it as a daughter; my mom died before I had the perspective to thank her for everything she had given to me.

Apparently, the unappreciated steadfastness demanded in parenting will also apply to robots — or at least one named Rozzum 7143 (Lupita Nyong’o) — in the far distant future, as seen in the new animated children’s film “The Wild Robot,” which is based off author Peter Brown’s book of the same name published back in 2016.

When I entered the theater Friday afternoon with two other moms and a gaggle of seven children (not all ours), I was barely holding it together. My husband was traveling for work, and I was trying to balance the needs of my ill son, who had been sick all week, with those of my daughter, while also trying to work multiple jobs. When my husband cut his work trip short to fly home early Friday afternoon, I wanted to cry in gratitude, but I didn’t have the time.

He landed as school was letting out, which meant that I could take my daughter to see “The Wild Robot” with her friends after promising my son that I would take him as soon as he was better. Again, like everything in parenting, nothing was perfect. But I was trying to do my best.

Once we made it to the theater and the seven kids were settled with their popcorn trays and candy (myself and the other parents were seated in the row behind them), the lights began to dim, and I felt my body finally exhale the way it always does when a film begins. Like the novel, the movie opens with a storm that leaves a robot stranded on an island inhabited by animals. Rozzum 7143, or Roz for short, is accidentally activated by a group of curious otters.

Because my kids loved the audiobook (the three of us had also read through its beautifully illustrated paperback version), I had expectations that the adaptation would align with the premise of Brown’s story in both plot and theme. However, as the story progressed, it became clear that Roz’s learning to adapt to the island was less about her trying to survive and more about her learning to live.

Brown has said that the question that drove him while writing the book was, “What would an intelligent robot do in the wilderness?” The answer he discovered was that “she’d make the wilderness her home.” In contrast, the question that underpins the movie seems to be: What would an intelligent robot do when she finds a gosling egg? The eventual answer — she’d become the gosling’s mother — isn’t obvious, especially to Roz because she doesn’t “have the programming.”

But as Roz learns from Pinktail the opossum (Catherine O’Hara) and her seven children, no one has the programming. Goslings attach to the first thing they see, so, for better or worse, Roz will need to become a mother to the baby goose, Brightbill (Kit Connor). To do this, she elicits the help of a sly but ultimately big-hearted fox named Fink (Pedro Pascal), who features much more heavily in the movie than he does in the book. Together, the three form an unnatural family because the animals are from different species and Roz is a “monster.”

At least, that’s how many of the animals on the island, especially the other geese, feel at first. The movie alludes to social issues in today’s world, including bigoted criticism and legislation against family structures that are “different” or “other,” but those parallels aren’t blatant or forced. Instead, the film is primarily focused on turning the story of a man-made robot overriding her program to survive in the natural world into a robot taking on the unnatural role of parent. Really, Roz could be any of us.

Pinktail imparts this wisdom, telling Roz that no parent has the code for what they are doing. Just like an opossum playing dead, parenting is often a practiced performance necessary for survival. Any parent who has risen in the middle of a sleep cycle to feed or change a crying baby, held back the hair of a vomiting child while wanting to gag themselves, or stepped away to take a deep breath instead of yelling while a kid is throwing a massive tantrum knows that advice is true. Parenting is often an overriding or repression of our base impulses — of our selfish desires to sleep, leave or scream.

This is why the way Roz overrides her programming differs in its purpose from the book. In the novel, she is made to survive, but in the movie, she is made to help — to increase human leisure time by an average of 40%. Roz is basically an amped-up Alexa or Siri.

The irony is that mothering goes against this goal. Brightbill follows Roz everywhere and slows her down, leading Roz to complain about it in the movie. Pinktail acknowledges this truth, but it doesn’t change the fact that Roz is still responsible for Brightbill, and this responsibility gives her purpose and a task. However, parenting is something that is not so easily (or ever) completed, and it is made more difficult because there is no one right code for accomplishing it.

Despite its obviousness, this message still feels like a bold and revelatory statement for a children’s movie (or any movie) to make. It’s also a much-needed perspective shift, and, like the best children’s entertainment, it enables the film to function on two planes: one for kids and one for adults. The difference is that “The Wild Robot” accomplishes this feat with an intention that is rare and a humor that is drawn from perceptive insight instead of plucked low-hanging fruit.

The result is that “The Wild Robot” exudes sincerity while still being funny, and as the story of Roz and Brightbill progresses, she teaches him to become independent. It’s a big undertaking for Roz as she helps Brightbill learn to swim and fly so he can migrate south with the rest of the flock for winter. She becomes the mechanical wind under Brightbill’s wings, and he accepts her support — even at times when he doesn’t want to. For example, there’s a portion of the movie where Roz continues to help others while Brightbill struggles with his identity, leading him to resent hereven though he knows she is the reason he can fly. The moment led to myself and two other moms crying multiple times because we could relate to Roz and felt seen as mothers.

I wasn’t expecting to feel understood when I entered the theater to watch a children’s animated movie at the end of a long week of parenting. And I wasn’t expecting the film to ruminate on the illusion of maternal instincts, burden of self-sacrifice, or joy that can still be found in overriding one’s code to caretake.

However, this complex portrayal of parenthood within a beautifully cinematic, engaging world is the real achievement of “The Wild Robot.” It reveals the intricacies of modern motherhood — the “unnatural” and thankless sacrifices required in the act of parenting that are not promised to add up to anything, but maybe — just maybe — can and will. It shows the way neither parents nor children are coded for their roles, but the bonds of family can bridge the parts of the program that are missing.

“The Wild Robot”is both about a robot who goes wild and the wildness of life itself, and it is an animated movie that everyone — both kids and parents — should see.

“The Wild Robot” is now playing in theaters.