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I’m not going to lie, when I started working on this article, I felt a bit overwhelmed. The Wild Robot has so many great themes–like motherhood, solidarity, and the importance of kindness–I wasn’t sure what to write about. It’s like trying to pick just one dish from a menu of your favorite foods, but after some reflection, I finally settled on the idea that resonated with me the most. As you might be able to guess, it’s a concept that lies at the heart of our Catholic faith, so rather than try to explain it myself, I’ll let the Church spell it out in her own words:
“Jesus…reveals that man, who is the only creature on earth which God willed for itself, cannot fully find himself except through a sincere gift of himself.” (Gaudium et Spes 24) At first glance, it may be tough to imagine how The Wild Robot could even begin to embody that teaching. As the name suggests, this film centers around a robot, not a person, so what could it possibly have to say about human nature? Perhaps surprisingly, quite a bit. At its core, The Wild Robot is a touching and heartwarming parable about what it means to be human, so let’s dive into this animated masterpiece and see just how it encapsulates a timeless truth about our nature. The Basic Plot of The Wild Robot Before we get started, I want to take a minute or two to briefly go over the plot of the movie. When The Wild Robot begins, a storm causes a Universal Dynamics ship to lose its store of advanced ROZZUM robots, and they end up on an uninhabited island. Some time afterwards, one of these units, ROZZUM 7134, is activated by animals, and she immediately begins searching for a task. See, ROZZUM robots are designed to be helpers. They’re programmed to complete any task they’re given, so naturally, this particular unit is looking for something to do. Eventually, she ends up accidentally squashing a goose nest and killing all the birds in it, but luckily, one of the eggs manages to survive. The baby bird soon hatches and imprints on the robot, so with the help of a fox named Fink, the ROZZUM unit cares for the gosling and teaches him how to swim and fly. In the course of raising this baby, the android names him Brightbill and takes on the name Roz, and soon enough, she completes her task. Brightbill is able to fly south with his fellow geese for their yearly migration, and when the time comes for the birds to return, Brightbill makes it back safely to the island. However, before he can see Roz again, a fleet of Universal Dynamics retrieval robots attempts to snatch Roz away and bring her back to the factory for study, so all the animals on the island have to band together to fight them off. They want Roz to stay, but after they successfully fend off the invaders, Roz makes a startling decision. She realizes that Universal Dynamics won’t stop sending retrieval units until they finally have her, so she chooses to turn herself in so her friends can stay safe. She promises to return one day, but for now, she’s doing what she can to protect Brightbill and the other residents of her new home. Following Her Programming With that out of the way, let’s get to the real meat of this article. How exactly does The Wild Robot embody the Church’s teaching that we find ourselves by giving ourselves to others? To answer that question, we have to go all the way back to the beginning. See, Roz doesn’t start out particularly human. Instead, when we first meet her, she’s just a robot. She doesn’t understand that she’s dealing with animals, not people, so she hands out stickers and keeps asking for a task even though it becomes very obvious very quickly that the island’s residents want nothing to do with her. She simply doesn’t understand anything beyond her programming, so to the surprise of no one, her speech and her interactions with these woodland creatures are stiff and awkward. And in case that’s not clear enough, some of the dialogue in the opening act of The Wild Robot hammers the point home even further. For example, there’s a scene where Roz tells Fink, “I’m a robot. I do robot-y things. I seek tasks and ensure all essential needs have been met or exceeded,” and she sometimes even uses the word “programming” to refer to the animals’ natural instincts. But above all else, Roz’s lack of humanity is made crystal clear when Fink tells Brightbill a story. It’s a fictionalized account of how Roz found the gosling, and Roz interrupts the fox a few times as he tells the tale. Unsurprisingly, her interjections are always technically true, but they’re not very comforting. For example, at one point in the scene, Roz exclaims, “I will not leave until I have completed this task, which has delayed me, damaged me, and violated my protocols, potentially voiding my warranty,” and Fink has to quickly add, “which is robot for, she loves you very much.” Even the fox understands that love is about more than just completing tasks, but that truth goes completely over Roz’s head. All she understands is following her programming, so once again, it’s clear that she’s still very much just a robot. Becoming Human However, even at that early stage, we can already see a few hints of the humanity that will eventually flower within her. The fact that she’s allowed her care for Brightbill to “violate her protocols” already shows that she’s not completely beholden to her programming, and soon after Fink tells this story, Roz takes another small step towards transcending her artificial nature. She asks the fox, “How do you tell a story about something you say you know nothing about?”, and when Fink asks for clarification, she responds with a single word: love. The Wild Robot doesn’t explicitly tell us why this exchange is significant, but if you ponder it for a moment, the importance of that one-word answer isn’t hard to discover. Sure, Roz doesn’t really understand love, but she clearly wants to. Even if only implicitly, she wants to transcend her programming and perform the most human act of all, and as The Wild Robot goes on, she moves closer and closer to achieving that goal. For instance, consider the moment when Brightbill finds out that Roz killed his family (albeit accidentally). Upon learning that painful truth, he disowns the robot and says she’s not his mother, and even though Roz doesn’t have a real face, her pain is impossible to miss. The music, her eye movements, and the position of her head make it clear that Brightbill’s words have cut her to the core, so she’s obviously developed some semblance of humanity. Soon after that, Roz heads out to the place where she was awakened, and when she finds another ROZZUM unit, she activates it and asks it for help. She explains, “My responses to problems increasingly rely on improvised solutions. The processing that used to happen here [pointing to her head] is now coming more from here [pointing to her chest],” and when the robot runs a diagnostic test on her, it finds that she’s been overriding her programming for months and tells her that she’s “become the wrong thing.” The android doesn’t say exactly what that means, but it’s not hard to figure out. By overriding her programming, Roz has slowly been gaining free will, so she’s slowly gaining the ability to truly love Brightbill and make decisions from her heart, not just from her head. The robot truly is turning into something else, and that “something else” is human. This process of slow humanization continues for the rest of the film, and it culminates in a third act in which Roz defies not just her programming but the very company that made her. She refuses to go back to the factory, so she fights the retrieval units that have come to take her away. In fact, one of those robots even says she’s changed, clearly referring to her newfound humanity, and during this big fight, the action slows down for a few moments to highlight just how far Roz has come. When it appears that the invaders have finally managed to wipe the android’s mind, Brightbill tells her seemingly lifeless body that he loves her, and after a few seconds, she wakes up and says she loves him too. It’s a touching scene, and it completes Roz’s transformation from mindless robot to genuine human. She now has free will and the ability to truly love, so despite her humble beginnings, her arc really is a parable about what it means to be human. A Sincere Gift of Self At this point, you might be scratching your head a bit. Sure, Roz displays some distinctive human qualities by the end of The Wild Robot, but what does any of this have to do with the Church's teaching about making a sincere gift of self? Quite a bit, actually. See, as the robot slowly becomes more human, she also begins to display an increasingly sacrificial heart. For starters, when Roz and Fink teach Brightbill how to fly, there’s a brief moment when Roz injures herself a bit and leaks some sort of “robot blood.” We don’t know exactly what it is, but it doesn’t seem good. In fact, Fink even gets a concerned look on his face when he sees it, but Roz just shrugs it off and continues helping her gosling son. Then, after the geese head south, Roz does something remarkable. The winter storm that year is particularly brutal, so the robot finds each one of the island’s inhabitants and brings them to her warm hut. The task is genuinely herculean, and by the end of it, Roz can barely move or speak. She’s so tired she has to shut down until spring, and Fink even remarks that she “risked everything” to save her neighbors. That bold act alone qualifies as a heroic self-gift, but Roz isn’t done yet. As I said in my brief plot synopsis, The Wild Robot ends with Roz literally handing herself over to Universal Dynamics, the very people she fought so hard to escape. She clearly doesn’t want to go, but it’s the only way to keep her friends safe, and if that’s not a sincere gift of self, I don’t know what is. It’s the high point of her humanity, and it's also the high point of the movie’s message. As Roz becomes increasingly human, she gives more and more of herself to her friends and neighbors, and the pinnacle of that transformation is an act of completely selfless love. For her, becoming human invariably entails learning to make a sincere gift of herself to the people around her (they're technically animals, but you get the point), and the correlation isn’t accidental. That’s simply what it means to be human, so despite being about an android, The Wild Robot truly embodies the Church's teaching on self-giving love.
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King Kong has been one of my favorite movies for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I would always get a kick out of seeing the giant ape fight prehistoric monsters and rampage through New York City, and as an adult, my love for the film hasn’t waned a single ounce. In fact, as I matured and grew in my appreciation for the art of storytelling, I found myself enjoying this movie even more.
See, King Kong is most famous for its (at the time) groundbreaking special effects, but that's not the only thing the film has going for it. It’s also a thematically rich tale of adventure, folly, and a love that compels both man and beast to risk their very lives. It has a lot more to say than your average giant monster flick, so let’s take a deep dive into this stone-cold classic and examine one of the many great lessons it can teach us. The Basic Plot of King Kong But before we do, I want to take a minute and briefly go over the plot of the movie. When King Kong begins, a filmmaker named Carl Denham is gathering a crew for his next picture. He’s chartered a ship to take them to a mysterious, exotic location, but there’s still one piece missing: the female lead. He takes to the streets of New York to find an actress for the role, and luckily for him, he’s quickly able to recruit a young woman named Ann Darrow. Denham, Ann, and the rest of the crew soon set off for their destination, an unmapped island called Skull Island, and when they arrive, they find the natives to be inhospitable. However, the islanders take a liking to Ann, and during the night, they kidnap the woman and offer her to their mysterious god. That deity is the titular Kong, but instead of eating the poor woman, Kong takes her as a sort of companion and fiercely defends her from the other giant residents of the island. When Denham realizes Ann is missing, he and a contingent of his men head off into the Skull Island wilderness to bring her back, and along the way they encounter multiple prehistoric beasts that threaten to derail the entire expedition. Nevertheless, they keep going, but unfortunately, only two of them survive. Denham returns to the ship to prepare for the trip home, and the first mate, a man named Jack Driscoll, heads deeper into the jungle to rescue Ann. He eventually succeeds, and when Kong chases the pair back to the village, Denham and his crew manage to render the giant ape unconscious with gas bombs. They bring the creature back to New York with them, and as I’m sure you know, this ends up being a huge mistake. Denham tries to put Kong on display for people to see, but the monster quickly breaks his chains and goes on a rampage through the city. He finds Ann and climbs up the Empire State Building with her, and his story ends in tragedy when he’s shot down by fighter planes. Beauty and the Beast Now that we’ve got our bearings, let’s get to the good stuff. King Kong opens with what purports to be an “old Arabian proverb” (although in reality, it was simply made up by one of the film’s directors, Merian C. Cooper): “And the prophet said, ‘And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty. And it stayed its hand from killing. And from that day, it was as one dead.’” If you’re at all familiar with King Kong, those words might ring a bell. They echo the movie’s famous final line, uttered by Carl Denham after the planes take down the titular giant ape: “Oh no, it wasn’t the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast.” Granted, Ann didn’t literally kill Kong, but on a deeper level, Denham’s words are spot on. The creature was a god on Skull Island, and before Denham’s crew pulled up to shore, he was just about invincible. Nothing on the island could challenge his supremacy, but that all changed when he laid eyes on Ann. He was smitten with the woman, so like the fake proverb says, he didn’t kill her. Instead, he took her to be his companion, and when Jack rescued her from his clutches, Kong chased her all the way back to the village, where Denham and his men took him captive and made him their prisoner. He was eventually able to break free from his chains in New York, but he couldn’t escape his affection for Ann. The beast just wanted to be with this beautiful woman, but Jack and Carl Denham couldn’t let that happen. To save Ann once again, they enlisted a fleet of fighter planes, and those planes finally took the monster down. So no, Ann didn’t literally kill Kong, but the ape’s instant infatuation with her led directly to his ultimate demise. Beauty really did kill the beast, and his fate was sealed from the moment he first saw her. The Human Beast That’s the King Kong story everyone knows, but if we pay close attention, we’ll find that the movie actually tells another story that closely parallels that of its titular ape. The first act contains a shocking (to modern audiences, anyway) amount of misogyny, and most of it comes from one character: Jack Driscoll. The first time he meets Ann, he’s quite mean to the poor woman. He tells her that women are “a nuisance,” and after about only a minute of talking to her, he says she’s “been in the way already.” Then, when these characters bump into each other again, Jack doubles down on his sexist attitude. He claims that the ship is “no place for a girl,” and when she points out that she hasn’t caused any trouble, he tells her that “just being around is trouble.” He even has the gall to say that women “just can't help being a bother” because they're “made that way,” so if you didn’t know any better, you might even think this guy was the villain of the story. But then something unexpected happens. After Ann leaves, Jack has a brief conversation with Denham, and he starts to soften up a bit. He expresses concern about their mysterious trip, and when Denham asks if he’s “gone soft,” Jack clarifies that he’s actually concerned for Ann, not himself. In response, Denham quips that “beauty” will make this “tough guy” go soft, and then he launches into an explanation of his new film. Here’s how he explains it: “The beast was a tough guy too. He could lick the world, but when he saw beauty, she got him. He went soft. He forgot his wisdom, and the little fellows licked him.” The first time you watch King Kong, those words don’t mean much to you, but if you know where the story is headed, they hit you like a ton of bricks. They inevitably call to mind Kong’s arc in the movie, but surprisingly, Denham is applying them to Jack. He thinks the plot of his film is playing out right in front of him with Jack and Ann, and as the story goes on, we find that he’s absolutely right. Despite initially displaying a severe case of misogynistic machismo, Jack quickly changes his tune. He becomes very protective of Ann, and right before the woman is kidnapped by the Skull Island natives, he even confesses his love to her and kisses her. Then, when Kong kidnaps her, he risks his life twice, once on the island and once in New York, to save her. The Dignity of Women All that being said, there is a big difference between Kong and Jack: Kong’s affection for Ann eventually kills him, but Jack lives. That’s a pretty stark contrast, and on the surface, it almost seems to destroy the parallel between these two characters. However, I’d suggest that their fates aren’t quite as dissimilar as we might think at first. Sure, Jack doesn’t die, but the beast within him does. Remember, when King Kong starts, he’s a hyper-macho, misogynistic monster, but by the end of it, he’s risking it all to rescue the woman he loves. He does a complete 180 and learns that women are just as valuable as men, and the way I see it, that’s the thematic heart and soul of this movie. At its core, King Kong is all about the dignity of women, and it highlights that theme in two ways. On the most basic level, multiple characters–including Kong, Jack, and Denham–risk their lives to keep Ann safe both on Skull Island and in New York, so she’s a shining example of just how important women are. On a deeper level, this film is an allegory for the evils of misogyny. The parallel between Jack and Kong shows that Jack’s initial attitude towards women is truly monstrous, so just like Kong has to die at the end of the story, so too must Jack put away his disdain for all things feminine. He has to learn that far from being “made” to cause trouble, women have the exact same dignity and value as men, and in a world where women are often seen as disposable objects to be used and abused, that message is just as relevant as it was when the movie first came out. I know what some of you are probably thinking. A Looney Tunes movie? Really? What’s next, Paw Patrol and The Adventures of Timmy the Tooth? But hear me out. Sure, the cartoon-loving kid in me was super excited to see these characters on the big screen, but nostalgia wasn’t the only reason I wanted to check out The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie. The early critical buzz for this film was surprisingly positive, so I had to see it for myself. I wanted to know if the movie lived up to the hype, and after finally getting a chance to watch it, I'm happy to report that it's a total blast.
The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie was directed by Pete Browngardt, and it stars the voices of Eric Bauza, Candi Milo, and Peter MacNicol. In the film, Daffy Duck and Porky Pig were raised together by a man named Farmer Jim, and even though Jim has passed, they still live in the same house where they grew up. They seem to lead a fairly normal life (or at least as normal as Looney Tunes characters can be), but that all changes when a mysterious UFO crash-lands near their neighborhood. An evil alien creates a mind-control drug to take over the planet, and of course, the only people who can stop him are Daffy, Porky, and their new friend Petunia Pig. If you’re a longtime Looney Tunes fan like me, you’ll be happy to hear that The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie sticks very closely to the original cartoons. Unlike, say, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem, this movie doesn’t reinvent its beloved characters for a new generation. Porky and Daffy look and sound exactly like they did when I was a kid, and they get up to all the same hilariously ridiculous shenanigans that made me love them all those years ago. That being said, there is one big difference. The classic Looney Tunes was basically just a sketch comedy show, so the stories were never the series’s string point. In fact, they were usually little more than excuses to showcase a bunch of over-the-top slapstick humor. They rarely had much genuine heart or humanity to them, but The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie bucks that trend. For starters, the film highlights two key relationships that will melt your heart: Porky and Daffy, and Porky and Petunia. Let’s start with the first duo. Like I said, Porky and Daffy were raised together by Farmer Jim, and the movie wastes no time showing us how their unbreakable bond grew from childhood to the present day. It’s more than enough to get us on board with these characters, but The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie doesn’t stop there. Soon after the film begins, Jim dies. On screen, it actually looks like the guy just walks away, but director Pete Browngardt gives adult viewers enough clues that we can easily figure out what’s really going on. It’s an unexpectedly poignant scene, so if you’ve ever lost a loved one, you’ll be sure to feel for Porky and Daffy. What’s more, before Jim leaves, he tells his adopted sons they’ll be okay as long as they stick together, and that line seals the deal for us. In that moment of grief, we want these two characters to follow the farmer’s advice, so from then on, we care deeply about this unlikely pair both as individuals and as a team. In contrast, Petunia joins the fray as an adult, and from the moment Porky lays eyes on her, he’s absolutely smitten. She doesn’t reciprocate right away, but it doesn’t take long for their relationship to advance beyond mere friendship. And when that happens, they’re adorable together. Most notably, there are a number of times when the pigs stutter in perfect harmony, and while that might sound a bit cheesy on paper, those moments are guaranteed to put a big smile on your face. These two relationships are the heart and soul of The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie, and as the story progresses, it essentially ends up being an examination of the dynamics of real-life human relationships. Through its over-the-top characters and their often ridiculous antics, the film explores love, loss, and the ups and downs we all experience with our friends and loved ones, so it’s tough to distill just one message from it. This movie is simply about what it means to be human, and it embodies its various interlocking themes in a way that’s simple enough for kids to understand but also deep enough for adults to appreciate. It’s exactly the kind of uplifting, soul-nourishing experience all family films should strive to be, so if you’re even remotely the kind of person who would enjoy a feature-length Looney Tunes flick, I highly recommend that you check out The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie. |
Jp Nunezis a longtime film buff and theology nerd with master's degrees in theology and philosophy from Franciscan University of Steubenville. His favorite movie genres are horror, superheroes, and giant monsters. Archives
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