Netflix’s The Electric State Is a $320 Million Piece of Junk

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As a movie enthusiast myself, I’d like to share that before diving into the Marvel universe, Joe and Anthony Russo were recognized mainly for their work in comedy, particularly in films like “You, Me, and Dupree” (2006) and shows such as “Arrested Development” and “Community”. Their knack for humor seemed a perfect fit with the Marvel Cinematic Universe, which had already set its witty tone with Jon Favreau’s first “Iron Man” and further developed it with Joss Whedon’s “Avengers”.

For quite some time, Marvel movies maintained a blend of humor and fantasy, distinctly different from the gloomy, gritty expectations of their DC counterparts who were grappling with escalating budget issues and an overdose of brooding slow-motion scenes. While opinions among critics may have varied (and for the record, I appreciated their take on “Captain America” films, and found “Avengers: Infinity War” quite entertaining, although “Avengers: Endgame” didn’t resonate with me as much), the Russo brothers skillfully navigated the vibrant Marvel ship, steering it towards increasingly impressive financial successes.

As I delved into their latest Netflix sci-fi offering, “The Electric State“, I found myself pondering – not for the first time – about the whereabouts of those Russo brothers. This question had also crossed my mind while watching their 2022 Netflix thriller, “The Gray Man”. It’s puzzling to see filmmakers who once masterfully navigated the delicate balance of Marvel’s most daring period pieces, now seemingly trapped in such heavy and humorless productions.

While “The Gray Man” was merely dull and unremarkable, a forgettable action flick – such instances happen occasionally. But “The Electric State” seems to be yearning for an injection of playfulness, energy, some zest and charisma. I can’t help but feel that the Russo brothers of two decades ago could have brought a much-needed comic flair to this project. It’s a tale of fantasy rooted in absurdity. Without a touch of humor, it becomes grating to watch.

The movie is inspired by Simon Stålenhag’s 2018 illustrated book, titled similarly, and depicts an alternate 1990s where humans wage war against robots. These aren’t ordinary robots; they were initially task-specific helpers developed by Walt Disney in the 1950s, responsible for tasks like delivering mail or cooking food. However, they gained consciousness and sought freedom, leading to protests, uprisings, peace agreements, and ultimately, a catastrophic war. The opening scenes show amusing snippets of Bill Clinton signing a treaty with a massive mechanical Mr. Peanut, representing the robot rebellion’s leader. In this conflict, humans used a drone army managed remotely by individuals wearing headsets to gain victory. Post-war, the technology behind this drone army was marketed to the public as a means of keeping them pacified and engrossed in virtual realities. The surviving robots were then sent to a colossal prison colony located deep within the Southwestern desert of America.

The narrative revolves around Michelle (Millie Bobby Brown), a troubled teenager and foster child who has been without her parents and her adored prodigious younger brother, Chris (Woody Norman), for some years now, following their demise in a car accident. One evening, a robotic replica of Kid Cosmo, a former favorite cartoon character of Chris, mysteriously enters Michelle’s home and claims to be her brother or his consciousness, controlled from an unknown location. As a result, Michelle and Cosmo embark on a quest to find Chris’s corporeal form. To accomplish this, they enlist the aid of John Keats (!), portrayed by Chris Pratt, a former soldier turned black marketeer who, along with his faithful construction-robot companion, Herman (voiced by Anthony Mackie), traffics goods from the restricted robot zone. Given that robots are prohibited from interacting with humans, they are constantly pursued by drone soldiers, led primarily by Colonel Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito), a tenacious and robot-averse war veteran infamously known as the Butcher of Schenectady.

The tale centers on Michelle (Millie Bobby Brown), a distressed adolescent who has been without her parents and beloved genius younger brother, Chris (Woody Norman), for some years after their passing in a car crash. One night, a robotic duplicate of Kid Cosmo—a cartoon cherished by Chris—sneaks into her home and asserts it’s Chris or his consciousness, controlled from an unspecified location. Michelle and Cosmo then embark on a mission to discover Chris’s physical body, which requires them to collaborate with John Keats (!), a former soldier turned black marketeer (portrayed by Chris Pratt) who, together with his trusted construction-robot partner Herman (voiced by Anthony Mackie), smuggles items from the forbidden robot zone. Since robots are barred from engaging with humans, they are persistently chased by drone soldiers, specifically Colonel Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito), a dogged and human-averse war hero infamous as the Butcher of Schenectady.

In simpler terms, the plot isn’t ordinary; it involves robots that have evolved beyond their original purposes, not typical alien androids. For instance, we have Mr. Peanut (voiced by Woody Harrelson), a postman named Penny Pal (Jenny Slate) who can extract hearts, a baseball-playing machine called Pop Fly (Brian Cox), a mechanical magician Perplexo (Hank Azaria), a runaway football helmet (Rob Gronkowski), a sentient barber’s chair with scissors, and a giant piano-playing taco.

In a sense, you’d expect such a story to have a more humorous tone. However, the Russos maintain a serious and almost cautious approach throughout the film. Despite some witty remarks and light-hearted jokes (many of which are delivered by Pratt, who does his best to emulate a discount Harrison Ford), the overall tone is quite somber. It seems as if they’re trying to avoid the story veering too much into comedy territory. Could it be that they’re distancing themselves from their past, or perhaps they’ve internalized criticisms about the MCU being overly humorous? Or maybe they have profound themes about intolerance, technological oppression, and mass manipulation to convey, along with a gruesome robot battle and emotional moments designed to tug at heartstrings. There’s also a hint of personal sentiment in this tale of characters who were Disney-appointed subordinates, who then gain self-awareness and strive for recognition.

Despite some flaws, the filmmakers have put immense effort into making this story feel authentic and creating characters we might care about, even if they’re quite eccentric. However, their ambition seems to have backfired spectacularly, leaving me contemplating rewatching Adam Sandler’s video game-inspired sci-fi comedy, Pixels. To clarify, Pixels is not a well-made film, but it did manage to embrace its silliness. At least with Sandler at the helm, I would have expected a funny take on a line like “You violated the treaty, Mr. Peanut!” instead of presenting it as a troubling act of violence.

In simpler terms, Millie Bobby Brown’s charm in her Netflix series “Enola Holmes” seems to be absent. While she has shown great acting skills (I enjoyed her in the dark fantasy movie “Damsel,” another Netflix production), she struggles with emotional scenes in a story that is rather foolish. It’s hard to imagine anyone excelling in such a role. Watching Brown attempt to portray Michelle, a tough rebel softened by revisiting her tragic past, leaves one with an awkward sense of secondhand embarrassment for the actress, as if the entire film was conceived as a dry, mean-spirited joke at her expense.

The color scheme and design of the film “The Electric State,” filled with junk and branded robots, feels rather unappealing. By emphasizing grit and realism, the creators seem to have amplified its unpleasantness. The Russos’ practical visual approach doesn’t seem to inject much creativity into this world. They appear limited in their character introductions, often relying on an ominous close-up of feet or multiple cuts during a simple handshake. The action scenes lack originality and spark, being mostly repetitive fights between robots and drones. Although characters like Penny Pal shower their opponents with letters and Pop Fly shoot balls at them, the encounters themselves are devoid of energy or conviction. One can’t help but yearn for the dynamic action sequences of a “Transformers” film, the imaginative weight of “Pacific Rim,” or even the long, CGI-enhanced takes from the Russos’ “Avengers” series. “Real Steel” managed to execute the discarded-robot concept fairly well. To make this genre work, it requires more than just a substantial budget for special effects.

It’s reported that “The Electric State” had a production cost of approximately $320 million, placing it among one of the priciest films ever made. Although I believe in artists being compensated fairly and budget concerns shouldn’t necessarily impact our viewing experience, watching this film might lead one to wonder if anyone at Netflix could have intervened. Perhaps studio feedback isn’t always a negative aspect. Indeed, creating realistic giant robots, covering them in soot, and convincingly depicting their journey across Monument Valley requires resources. Similarly, actors demand payment, even for voice roles. The movie also features an unexpected pop soundtrack with tracks like “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” by The Flaming Lips and an orchestral rendition of Oasis’s “Wonderwall.” However, it seems rather incongruous that such a substantial sum was spent to produce a film that appears this poor in quality.

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2025-03-14 22:58