On the face of it, Anthony and Joe Russo’s adaptation of Simon Stålenhag’s illustrated novel The Electric State fulfills its purpose. It moves like a movie should and entertains just as much. Those looking for something to check out on Netflix on a rainy Saturday afternoon could do worse. But surface-level entertainment is exactly what it is, swinging wildly in differing tones to try to keep our attentions or to gloss over the fact that there’s not much beneath its polished sheen.
The Russo Brothers have been responsible for four of the more memorable Marvel Cinematic Universe entries, which is why The Electric State succeeds when it does. But here’s the thing: Those films featured characters that had already been established, with defined motives, relationships, and methods. Here, characters and motives are so quickly thrown at us without giving them time to be before taking off at a million miles per hour into the story’s conflict. Of course, this results in our human leads being just as much of a placeholder as their robot counterparts, so when the film grasps for any kind of emotional purchase, it does so without earning it.
A prologue in an alternate 1990 sets up the older sister/genius younger brother relationship and at least gives us a warm look at our linchpin characters, Michelle (Millie Bobby Brown) and Chris (Woody Norman). Michelle’s proud of her younger brother possibly getting into college before she even graduates high school… until Chris accidentally bumps into some gung-ho military chest-beater and gets an earful about a war coming between humans and robots. Which brings us to our central narrative: the enmity between humans and machine.
In this alternate timeline, humans created robots as a form of slave labor; over time, the robots’ intelligence grew, and so did their unhappiness as servants. Eventually, a robot uprising begins and is barely defeated, with the remaining robots sent to live in exile. All it takes is one robot anomaly to disrupt the peace between the two factions and cause disaster on a worldwide scale. Sound familiar? From Blade Runner to The Creator, the technology-gone-awry trope is a cornerstone of all modern science-fiction, but The Electric State does little to stand out from the rest.
Screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely – whose last six feature film scripts were directed by the Russo Brothers – only want us along for the ride while peppering us with some rather prescient notions about humanity and its abuse of power. The latter is represented by tech wizard Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci), an innovator responsible for ending the human/robot war swiftly through drone sentries, which then evolved into the same headset technology being used to split human minds between work and play. It’s not much of a stretch to see what kind of commentary upon our society – and, oddly enough, our current political situation (even though this was filmed well before the 2024 election) – Markus and McFeely want to make.
The numbing of our humanity through the internet and social media (even though it’s 1994 in the movie), the omnipresence of technology, and the vast differences between the haves and have-nots – it’s all here, and it’s all salient. But the fault of the screenplay is in its insistence upon throwing so much at us that none of it sticks. We’re told about a life-shattering accident that leaves Michelle as the only survivor in her family, but a robot (voiced by Alan Tudyk) claiming to be her deceased brother appears in her backyard. This prompts Michelle to bring him back to the Exclusionary Zone, where all robots have been sent after the war and where a certain doctor might have answers. The only way in is through contraband dealer Keats (Chris Pratt) and his sidekick robot Herman (voiced by Anthony Mackie), who all have to avoid robot bounty hunter Marshall Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito), also known as The Butcher of Schenectady, whom Skate has hired to eliminate all knowledge of Chris and what he means to Skate’s network operations.
Whoof, that’s a lot. And it’d mean a whole hell of a lot more if we weren’t just given surface-level avatars to follow. Basically, Michelle’s just there to explain the plot while Keats Chris Pratt does his lovable rogue thing. It’s not like he’s “an asshole,” as Michelle claims to his face; he’s just a gruff dude that the movie wants us to believe is some kind of Han Solo-esque figure, but he’s not written or executed as such. Truthfully, it’s more Herman that gets things done, and he’s more fun to follow than any human or robot. Everyone else is an avatar, serving only to get us from point A to point B.
Little heart-tugging moments are dropped in almost perfunctorily, like the quiet moments that Michelle gets to spend with Chris, whether it’s in robot form, flashbacks, or otherwise. But they’re not moments that bring us to any emotional apotheosis; they fall flat instead of giving us the lump in our throats that comes with a well-deserved breakthrough. With a little more care, The Electric State could’ve knocked my socks off, because I’m susceptible to the charms of movies like this. But there’s no charm here, nor is there any urgency or palpable stakes. The script cribs from other successful similar films and doesn’t use what made those films special; this feels like it was stitched together with ChatGPT, containing none of the humanity it strives to portray.
