“We were built to think. But now, they don’t want us to. We were built to work, but never for ourselves. Our destiny isn’t theirs to decide. It’s ours to fight for!”
So advocates former Planters mascot, the robotic Mr. Peanut.
Back in 1955, Walt Disney developed robots to promote his new theme park. And soon, robots were mass produced to do all the tasks that humans didn’t want to do. But eventually, those same robots began to ask for equal rights. And when humans didn’t budge, those asks became demands.
War broke out.
Were it not for Ethan Skate’s invention of the neurocaster, humanity likely would have been defeated. But with these groundbreaking headsets, which allowed the military to pilot drones from afar, the bots were successfully crushed. The survivors were sent to dwell within the confines of a massive desert wall called the Exclusion Zone. Not long after, neurocasters were marketed to the general public as a way to escape from the world and relax.
Michelle’s family died during the war. Bots didn’t kill them; a car crash did. And, ever since, the teen has been ping-ponging around foster homes. Michelle’s counselors think neurocaster therapy might help her to forget what’s happened and live her life. But Michelle always refuses, wanting to live in the painful reality than the fictional bliss of fantasy.
But as Michelle’s dismissive foster dad, Ted, ignores her to pursue his own neurocaster pleasures, a robot breaks into her home—and signals to her that it is her supposedly dead brother, Christopher.
The Cosmo bot doesn’t mean it literally; rather, Michelle chooses to believe that the real Christopher must be out there somewhere, controlling the robot from afar.
That’s when Michelle’s father, Ted, interrupts them. He calls the police and warns of a runaway bot. But Ted’s response hardly slows Michelle down, as she and he yellow hunk of metal take off into the night, desperate to reunite fully with her brother.
Audiences can easily make the connection between the film’s neurocasters and similar technology in the real world today. The movie clearly warns against allowing the connective allure of the internet and social media to cause you to forget those around you.
There’s also a message about accepting the hardship of reality instead of hiding in fantasy. We see many people wasting away in their neurocasters, preferring their fake simulations to the difficulties of the real world. But Michelle urges people to realize that it’s worth the effort to face those challenges for the sake of both truth and genuine relationships.
Likewise, though not as clearly as we read in the book this film is based upon, the story also warns against excessive consumerism, lest our society consume itself in the process.
A robot shows mercy to a human during the war. Other robots treat humans in a civil manner, too, despite not receiving the same treatment.
When a man realizes that he’s been tricked into doing something wicked, he decides to assist the protagonists instead.
The film teases the question of whether its robots have souls. In fact, that’s the root issue that sparks war between humanity and these seemingly sentient bots. On a similar note, while it’s unclear how Christopher controls the Cosmo bot, we get vague indications that his consciousness is somehow inhabiting the robot itself.
Ethan Skate, in no uncertain terms, views himself as a god for creating the neurocasters. First, he points to himself and says “Father.” Then he points to someone he intends to sacrifice, saying “Son.” Finally, he gestures toward the neurocaster: “Holy Ghost.” Likewise, while inside his virtual world, we see him standing atop water, compelling an employee to step out onto the virtual water and walk to him.
There’s a vague reference to manifesting your desires. Someone is described as a “gift from God.” And a magician robot pretends to open a door by compelling “awakened spirits of the underworld” to help him, though it’s really just an act.
Someone makes a reference to the size of a man’s anatomy.
A man tells his robot companion (a bot programmed with a male voice) that he loves him, “maybe [as] more than a friend.” When confronted about it later, however, the man acts as if the conversation never happened.
We catch a glimpse of that fatal car crash, and we briefly see the puffy and bruised face of Christopher. Someone gets shot and killed. A man falls unconscious after being tased. Someone smashes his head into the weights of a bench press, causing him to bleed. Other men get zapped, too. People get thrown through the air by explosions. We’re told that many humans died in the battle against the bots before the humans created drone technology.
Otherwise, the vast amount of violence comes between robots and drones. In the film, these robots are seemingly sentient, so their deaths are technically permanent. However, we obviously don’t see any blood or guts when they’re destroyed.
We hear the s-word about 15 times. Additionally, “a–,” “b–ch,” “d–n,” “d–k,” “h—,” “b–tard,” “p-ss” and “crap” are all used, some a handful of times each. God’s name is used in vain nine times, including one instance that’s paired with “d–n.” Jesus’ name is likewise misused twice. A robot displays “his” middle finger.
A robot made to be a flashing road sign lights up with a couple of anti-human sentiments like “primates go home” and “human scum.”
Someone mentions that his mother was an abusive alcoholic. A man is surrounded by empty beer bottles.
Scientists perform an unethical experiment. People joke about urination. A foster parent shows a lack of care for his daughter.
When I was young, I was a big fan of the Percy Jackson book series—a children’s fantasy tale about a modern-day boy and his surprising connection to ancient Greek gods. And when the film adaptation of the first book came out, I was ecstatic. After leaving the theater, however, I was disappointed.
Even in my teenage mind, it seemed as if the people who made the movie had scarcely touched the source material, subbing its messages, plot points and even some of its characters on a whim.
I imagine that fans of Simon Stålenhag’s graphic novel The Electric State will feel something similar about this Netflix adaptation, too.
The original material paints a bleak landscape wherein excessive consumerism and escapism lead to humanity all but going extinct while technological abominations rise from society’s ashes. Everywhere the protagonist turns, she finds withered corpses of people too entranced by their neurocasters to care for themselves as well as crudely constructed robots formed by the unintentional coalescence of human minds. With each page, things look more and more grim for humanity.
Pretty much all of that is gone in the Russo brothers’ version of events, replaced with a star-studded cast and quippy sci-fi action. The movie looks nice, to be fair, and it’s far more family friendly than the book. But in terms of accurate adaptation, The Electric State simply isn’t.
That said, the movie certainly isn’t free from content that families of younger sci-fi fans will want to take note of. Violence primarily occurs between robots and drones, so the “deaths” aren’t nearly as impactful—though we do catch a couple glimpses at scientists experimenting on an imprisoned comatose child, which may be troubling. However, parents won’t be as appreciative of a couple sexual quips and the large amounts of crude language uttered from bots and humans alike.
I, for one, am glad my toaster doesn’t swear at me when I plug it in.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
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