The Electric State
Directed by Joe and Anthony Russo
★★
Description
The Electric State. ™/© 2024 Netflix. Used with permission.
Production Still Image
3000 x 1582
Credit
™/© 2024 Netflix. Used with permission.
Copyright
™/© 2024 Netflix. Used with permission.
Set in a retro‑futuristic alternate‑1990s, The Electric State begins with a lonely orphaned teen driving across a desolate landscape alongside a mysterious robot in search of her long‑lost younger brother, with the help of a smuggler and his goofy mechanical sidekick. All the pieces are in place for an emotionally rich, odd‑couple road epic. Instead, what plays out is a visually polished, high‑budget spectacle that fails to ignite.
Millie Bobby Brown stars as Michelle, the teenage lead haunted by loss and driven by hope. She is joined by Chris Pratt in a supporting role as Keats, the former soldier‑turned‑smuggler who reluctantly becomes her protector. Anthony Mackie voices Herman, his talking robot pal, and the cast rounds out with familiar faces like Ke Huy Quan, Giancarlo Esposito, Stanley Tucci, Woody Harrelson, and Jenny Slate in cameo roles. As a whole they offer competent, serviceable performances—I wouldn’t say anyone truly elevates the material, but none of them slide into outright embarrassment. They’re basically all serviceable. Well, except for Tucci. I love that man.
Chris Pratt, in particular, is emblematic of the film’s deeper failure. Once a charismatic and original presence, reminiscent of his work on Parks and Recreation, he now delivers the same soft tough‑guy routine in movie after movie. He seems unwilling to take risks, sticking to safe territory until his expressiveness is almost dead behind the eyes. His scenes feel rote and uninspired, which adds to the overall sense that Pratt has lost his spark.
Beyond acting staleness, the movie suffers from narrative flatness. The Russo Brothers bring big‑screen scale and slick visual flair, yet everything feels hollow. The film lurches from exposition to action set pieces without emotional weight. Themes around technology, virtual escapism, and family trauma go unexplored beneath layers of recycled ideas. Maybe the Russo Brothers should stick to the Avengers, because this just adds to the pile of manure they have shoveled out since The Avengers films. Their gifts for payoff and spectacle are intact, but the soul behind the scenes is missing.
The world design is impressive: decaying robots strewn across highways, burnt‑out malls, barren vistas bathed in neon dusk lighting. Hundreds of millions went into crafting CG creations and nostalgic robots voiced by famous names. But instead of stirring awe or melancholy, it mostly provokes fatigue. Visuals alone don’t substitute for warmth or character so at the end of 128 minutes, you feel like you’ve sat through an expensive video game demo, not a movie.
The emotional core is similarly bruised. Michelle’s longing for her brother Christopher never fully grounds the audience. When they finally make contact, it lacks resonance. The teens’ tentative bond with Keats is underwritten, and Herman’s wisecracks are pasted in to break tension—but they break nothing. Even players with real potential—Esposito’s robotic enforcer, Tucci as a shadowy tech baron—are wasted, existing simply to trigger plot beats or deliver mechanical dialogue.
What lingers most is frustration over wasted opportunity. Simon Stålenhag’s illustrated source material brims with melancholy sci‑fi wonder. In contrast, this adaptation feels hollow, over‑reliant on spectacle. The few thematic threads touched—our surrender to virtual lives, the commodification of memory, the loneliness of nostalgia—are teased but never developed.
In the end, The Electric State looks expensive, but feels empty. Its cast is sufficient. Its visuals are sleek. Yet it lacks soul, wit, emotional resonance. It’s a cautionary reminder that even with top dollar, a star‑studded cast, and directors with tentpole pedigree, a film can still flop if it forgets that film is supposed to feel alive.
