Tom Hanks apparently wasn’t satisfied with spending the majority of a film interacting solely with a volleyball, even if that coup did bring him an Oscar nomination. After all, 2000’s Cast Away did involve other people during the prologue and conclusion.
Finch, on the other hand, is solely a one-man show.
Ready for just about anything: Finch (Tom Hanks, left) and his humanoid robot companion
pack abundant supplies into a waiting RV, while the four-legged Goodyear leads the way.
Except that it isn’t … not really. Nor am I certain Hanks is the stand-out actor here; that honor arguably belongs to Seamus, co-starring as the four-legged Goodyear.
Since movies often reflect the times in which they’re made, the world clearly has been in a highly anxious state for awhile now, given the number of post-apocalyptic projects we’ve gotten during the past several years. This is yet another one, and scripters Craig Luck and Ivor Powell quickly establish as bleak a scenario as could be imagined.
For once (happily?), the cause is beyond human control.
The time is roughly 15 years in the future; the barren, heat-blasted St. Louis cityscape is beset by swirling sand and dust. Finch Weinberg (Hanks) appears amidst this inhospitable environment, unrecognized within a protective radiation suit, accompanied by a modified lunar rover possessing the ability to see and respond to spoken commands, while using its single extendable clawed appendage as needed.
(Given this ’bot’s appearance, and the fact that it’s named Dewey, the homage to 1972’s Silent Running clearly is intentional.)
They’re scavenging as-yet unsearched stores for anything useful, carefully avoiding the occasional skeletized body.
As we gradually learn, a massive solar flare destroyed Earth’s ozone layer a decade earlier. Temperatures rose to 150 degrees; ultraviolet radiation became instantly deadly. The resourceful Finch, one of few survivors, built himself a well-equipped bunker in the basement of the robotics lab where he once worked. He has lived there ever since, accompanied solely by his faithful dog, Goodyear.
Finch has kept busy — and maintained his sanity — with a variety of projects, including his most ambitious yet: a humanoid robot “fed” the scanned contents of the hundreds of reference books found during foraging expeditions. Once sentient, this new companion also is versed in Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics, along with a new fourth law.
Although it draws a smile, when spoken, it’s equally serious: “In Finch’s absence, robot must protect the welfare of dog, This directive supersedes all other directives.”
This robot’s “performance” comes from the unseen Caleb Landry Jones, via motion- capture technology; the result is captivating. (Rest assured, there’s no way a person could be concealed within this construct.) Watching the robot learn to talk, walk and express itself is oddly endearing, as is Finch’s enthusiastic delight over what he has wrought.
But even as the robot’s awareness increases, it remains childlike, its “feelings” easily bruised; it has much to learn. Moments of contemplation or analysis are characterized by the slow flexing of its oversized hands: a “personality” quirk that is quite touching.
Goodyear, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with this oversized newcomer. Which leaves the robot quite chagrinned.
This new family dynamic isn’t given much time to settle in. Finch’s monitoring systems reveal the impending arrival of a deadly storm cluster destined to blanket St. Louis for more than a month, and certain to destroy his ability to generate the power needed to maintain the bunker. They need to leave — quickly — and Finch settles on San Francisco, which he’s always wanted to see.
The trio jams everything possible into Finch’s tricked-out Fleetwood RV — the robot’s strength proving useful — and takes off. What follows becomes a Road Trip Movie: a genre with traditional bonding parameters to which this script adheres.
And, let it be said, watching Finch “educate” his new companion — while Goodyear glares warily — is a lot of fun. The charismatic Hanks excels at the necessary blend of patience, amusement, exasperation and mild absent-mindedness; he’s matched by the plaintive, inquisitive and occasionally reckless tone detected within the robot’s nasal electronic voice. They’re quite a pair.
With Goodyear tossed into the mix as a suspicious canine chaperone, the result is irresistible.
For that matter, Dewey also displays plenty of personality: quite a trick, given that it cannot speak. It’s actually a fully functional robot built by Legacy Effects, integrated into this film with only a touch of additional VFX. Director Miguel Sapochnik and cinematographer Jo Willems convey a lot with close-ups, camera angles and “reaction” shots.
Although the radiation-blasted environment abutting their highway journey is a sobering backdrop — filming took place at New Mexico’s White Sands Missile Range, one of the starkest landscapes on Earth — Finch’s subsequent adventures don’t tread any new ground. The script is completely predictable, the sentimentality perhaps applied too heavily at times.
That said, Luck, Powell, Sapochnik and editor Tim Porter deserve credit for the chilling subtlety with which they introduce the perils of encountering other two-legged survivors, in a sequence taut with suspense.
It’s hard to complain about narrative familiarity, when the execution is so engaging.
The applicable science is treated reasonably well during the first hour or so, but some details get a bit sloppy as we enter the third act; the script is noticeably silent regarding how Finch is able to maintain a supply of potable water. The issue of Goodyear’s obligatory potty breaks also is ignored: no small problem, since the pooch can’t wear a protective radiation suit.
Luck and Powell build their saga to a conclusion that strongly evokes the final moments of 2001’s A.I. Artificial Intelligence, and — if you’ve bought into the drama up to this point (which isn’t difficult) — there won’t be a dry eye in the house.
It may sound odd to praise a bleak, post-apocalyptic drama for its sweetly gentle tone, but, well, that descriptor is completely appropriate.
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