This may be a sizzling hot take, but Chris Sanders’ The Wild Robot is a queer film. Is there anything explicitly gay in the movie? No. You won’t see two female ducks kissing or a cameo of a queer couple taking their child to school. As far as I’m aware, The Wild Robot was not intentionally created by or necessarily for a queer perspective. But queer audiences will still find something relatable and profound: a representation of found family and what it feels like to try and exist together in a society that doesn’t know how to deal with a new ecological structure.
Based on the book by Peter Brown this DreamWorks Animated film follows the tale of a robot who shipwrecks onto a remote island with a stirring, unforgiving ecosystem. ROZZUM Unit 7134, known as Roz (Lupita Nyong’o) is programmed to search and complete tasks. Ideally designed for humans, Roz becomes disillusioned by the wildlife who feel threatened by foreign technology and immediately attempt to cast her out of their community.
After nearly being mauled by the local grizzly bear, Roz finds one living gosling egg among the rest of the nest, crushed by the impact of her fall from the mountain. She adopts this gosling as her own, quickly learning from other woodland creatures that her “task” in keeping Brightbill (Kit Connor) alive is to make sure he can eat, swim, and fly. Along the way, she befriends a self-proclaimed outcast fox named Fink (Pedro Pascal) who begrudgingly helps her raise this baby goose. The three then fumble through family life together with the sole mission of making sure Brightbill, the runt of the litter, can withstand the winter migration to a warmer climate.
It’s my deeply personal, possibly controversial belief that Roz, Fink, and Brightbill are queer characters in their own right. Roz is a displaced (technically) genderless being pushed into a caretaking role for a family that isn’t the family she was programmed for. Fink is a lone fox who’s instinct is to live a solitary life. Putting his natural instinct of eating goslings aside, he assumes a second care-taker role to Brightbill, forming an intimate platonic relationship with his co-parent, Roz. Brightbill was never supposed to live. As Fink explains to Roz, the runt of the litter usually doesn’t have the strength to swim or fly and, because of this, can’t migrate out of the coming treacherous winter. His two accidental caretakers, both of whom don’t naturally swim or fly, find unconventional ways to teach their adopted goslings how to beat the odds of survival.
When Brightbill finally stumbles across the island’s gaggle of geese, he’s immediately met with disdain. He’s unworthy because he can’t swim or fly “properly,” and he’s a freak because he’s the child of a castaway machine. With the guidance and support of the flock leader, Longneck (Billy Nighy) (who’s character is also most definitely an elder gay), Brightbill eventually leads the migration gaggle out of treacherous post-apocalyptic conditions through his knowledge of robot culture. Roz, Fink, and Brightbill, individually outcasts, find creative ways to survive together as an unexpected, functional family.
Additionally, the setting of the film is a noteworthy piece of symbolism, further contributing to the theme of found family. As we follow Roz’s first encounters through the wild, we learn this ecosystem is trapped in a cutthroat circle-of-life environment. Each pack, species, and family lives in fear of predators, living only to barely survive. The ecosystem is strapped for resources, which becomes more evident as we’re introduced to what’s happening in the human world around them: the Golden Gate Bridge is underwater, most human-occupied cities are deserted, and all human life is consumed by robots only inhabiting one small island in the middle of wasteland. Not only is this an eerie warning of the future, but it’s also a reflection of the sociological dynamics our community faces in the landscape of heteronormativity (and classism, and racism, and sexism, etc.). People hold tight to their bigotries and self-interests even as increasing climate disaster demands greater solidarity.
Despite the underlying tone of desolation, Sanders leads us away from despair and into surprising, learned hope. He offers us a depiction of what it looks like to thrive in community beyond the limits of biological family. After Brightbill migrates with the rest of the geese for the winter season, the rest of the animals prepare for snow. As the weather becomes unexpectedly fatal, Roz and Fink notice their island co-inhibitors freezing to death. Using Fink’s keen sense of smell and Roz’s near-industrutable capabilities, the two venture out to save their community from the treacherous conditions.
Slowly, they form an entire ecosystem in their small makeshift shelter where bear, deer, beavers, raccoons, and every other island animal learns to cooperate, share, and put aside their biases to safely live together. From this radical act of humanity on Roz and Fink’s part, the island animals learn to love, grow, and learn from each other. The climax of the film depicts the animals banding together to fight off unforgiving robots who come to retrieve Roz, burning the entire island in their path. Defending the robot they once hated, they lean on the overlooked abilities of the outcasted creatures to defeat forest fires and robot attacks.
Sanders’ groundbreaking animated feature is a comment on the current and projected state of humanity. From the impacts of global warming to the reliance on robots, it’s surely a warning sign. It also offers us a microcosm of what a queer family looks like in a world that isn’t made for us. The most human character is the wild robot. Queer film doesn’t have to be about girls in love. Queer film encapsulates the culture of our collective joys and feats. It represents us overcoming harsh realities through unconventional, unexpected means of family .The deeply human, perceivably human “othered” being becomes the cornerstone of happy survival. I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty gay to me.
The Wild Robot is now in theatres.
