Sometimes a movie hits you so hard, you can't shake it. The Electric State, the latest offering from directing duo Joe Russo and Anthony Russo, is such a movie. It's so dunderheaded and cacophonous that I'm still angry about its existence.
There was a time not so long ago when the Russo brothers were entrusted with the keys to the MCU kingdom, helming blockbusters like Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Endgame. But outside of the box that Kevin Feige built (or at least oversees), the pair have struggled to create enthralling movies. Instead, they've give us the forgettable Tom Holland-fronted drama Cherry and the atrociously underwhelming action flick The Gray Man, which wasn't even helped by pitting Chris Evans against Ryan Gosling. Now, here comes The Electric State, a convoluted collision of genres, ideas, and bottom-of-the-barrel nostalgia that cannot be elevated by its stars, Millie Bobby Brown and Chris Pratt.
The Electric State is less a movie and more a garage sale.
Inspired by Simon Stålenhag's illustrated novel of the same name, The Electric State is set in a world drowning in kitsch and anti-robot sentiment. In a '90s setting, Stranger Things' Millie Bobby Brown stars as orphaned teen Michelle, who has a chip on her shoulder and a little brother whose consciousness has somehow ended up in a cartoony-looking robot that can only spit cutesy catchphrases. Considering Michelle had thought he'd died four years before — in the car collision that killed their parents — this seems a win. But it pitches girl and bot into quest to reunite his body and soul, which will take them deep into enemy territory.
See, in The Electric State's revisionist history of our world, vaguely anthropomorphic robots were introduced to the U.S. in the 1950s to amuse and do menial jobs, like construction, delivering mail, or promoting the sale of peanuts. As the robots gained consciousness, they demanded not to be enslaved and instead given rights. A violent man-versus-machine war broke out in 1990. The only thing that could stop the death on both sides was a peace treaty struck between tech oligarch Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci) and Mr. Peanut (voiced by Woody Harrelson), a mechanical mascot who'd become the leader of the robots.
Confused? Don't worry. For one thing, the movie will explain itself over and over, laying out the robots-only zone with the help of the buddy team of a human smuggler (Pratt) and his robo-sidekick (voiced by Anthony Mackie). For another thing, none of this really ever makes sense, no matter how much screen time the Russos dedicate to it.
The thing is, it wouldn't matter if the plot held water if the world they built was cool enough. (See The Matrix or the explosive ending of Jaws!) But the Russos are not creators, they're collectors. And here, they basically turned a junkpile aesthetic into a trash movie.
The 1950s robots all have a kitschy old-school design of round heads and thin limbs, evoking Mickey Mouse. But the Russos aren't working for Disney anymore, so while Walt Disney gets a mention (as an innovator in the space of robot employment), the movie is not filled with recognizable characters, much less beloved ones. Where Ready Player One offered a similar concept of the underdog disrupting tech tyranny in a world where anything dreamed up could battle, The Electric State is stuck with Mr. Peanut. For added pandering, there's a smattering of '90s doodads like Big Mouth Billy Bass, the singing wall-mounted fish. Then, the Russos slather much of the film in a dingy blue-gray palette that assures the audience that while this might seem stupid, it's actually a very serious movie. (Netflix, did Squid Game teach you nothing!)
Millie Bobby Brown and Chris Pratt do not save The Electric State.
Netflix and Brown have committed pretty intensely to each other, following Stranger Things with the action-packed mysteries Enola Holmes 1 & 2 and the fantasy action movie Damsel. The Electric State seems a step back for Brown, miscasting her as the lead. Now 21, she no longer looks convincingly like a teenager. Her physicality in the first scene — opposite her human brother before the war with the robots — is so maternal and mature that it's jarring when a scene set four years later insists Michelle is in high school. From there, Brown seems on cruise control, glowering whether she's talking tough to the smuggler that becomes her uneasy ally, her ro-brother, or any array of misfits and machines she meets on her journey.
The Russos aim for an Amblin aesthetic in their sentimental approach to a kid and their outsider bestie — AI instead of ET — fighting for the latter's very existence. The score by Alan Silvestri (Back to the Future, Amazing Stories) seems to harken back to the '80s optimism seen in kids movies like E.T. and An American Tail, in which a pesky pack of kids could topple a villainous authority. But this whimsy doesn't permeate the movie. Its best effort seems to be in Keats, Pratt's smuggler, who feels modeled after Han Solo meets Andy from Parks and Recreation. It's Pratt in his default mode of swaggering doofus. And for good measure, he's got a wise-cracking robot buddy who isn't cute, or funny, or particularly interesting. But hey, at least they manage to wedge in some gay panic jokes in a could-have-been-moving moment.
The effect of all this is that of a sloppy collage. Smacked together with visible glue are some cool visuals, some popular performers, some story elements that echo Stranger Things, Star Wars, E.T., The Matrix, and Ready Player One. But there's nothing much to say and nothing new to contribute. Viewers might perk up when a curious robot pops on screen with a familiar voice, as the likes of Jenny Slate, Brian Cox, and Alan Tudyk lend their voices. They might marvel that Giancarlo Esposito, who plays a human solider dedicated to keeping the robots in line, brings gravitas even to dreck like this and Captain America: Brave New World. But when you consider the cast that came together, the money spent on building a varied and textured population of weird robots, and the time invested in bringing the Russos' vision to life, it's hard not to feel like The Electric State is nothing if not a monument to missed opportunities.
