In an era where the boundaries of cinematic extravagance continue to expand, Joe and Anthony Russo’s latest venture, The Electric State, emerges as a colossal endeavor that redefines financial commitment in filmmaking. With a budget exceeding $300 million, this Netflix production ranks among the most expensive films ever made, aligning with their previous Marvel successes like Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame. Despite their substantial earnings and creative freedom, the Russos appear less than enthusiastic about their projects. Set in an alternate 1990s America, where robots coexist uneasily with humans post-conflict, the film showcases elaborate robotic designs yet lacks depth in storytelling and character development.

The Electric State presents a world filled with quirky machines and humorous undertones, but its narrative struggles under the weight of predetermined beats and uninspired dialogue. Characters engage in repetitive quips, leaving little room for emotional resonance or imaginative exploration. While visually impressive, featuring grand battles and intricate settings, the movie suffers from a lack of originality and engagement. Drawing parallels with Spielberg’s Ready Player One, it immerses itself in pop culture references without adding meaningful contributions. Ultimately, the Russos’ reliance on pre-existing elements hinders their ability to create something uniquely compelling.

Extravagant Production Values Amidst Narrative Challenges

As one of Netflix's priciest productions, The Electric State boasts extravagant visuals that reflect its massive budget. Scenes unfold within meticulously crafted environments, such as an abandoned shopping mall turned refuge for defeated robots, showcasing detailed designs and dynamic action sequences involving skyscraper collisions and underground lairs filled with contraband memorabilia. However, amidst these spectacular displays lies a persistent void—not of resources, but of inventive spirit and genuine excitement. The film features numerous elements primed for fun, including revelations about robot leaders originating from familiar commercial mascots, yet fails to capitalize on their comedic potential through flat delivery devoid of playful irony.

This dichotomy between lavish expenditures and uninspired execution becomes increasingly apparent throughout the movie. For instance, despite acknowledging Walt Disney's role in pioneering self-governing robots during the mid-20th century, the narrative misses opportunities to explore darker humor inherent in human fatalities caused by whimsical automatons like walking doughnuts or murderous payphones. Instead, the tone remains overly cheerful, reminiscent of cut-rate Spielberg imitations prevalent in 1980s cinemas following E.T.'s blockbuster success. Villains portrayed by Stanley Tucci and Giancarlo Esposito inhabit generic spaces lacking depth or symbolic significance, further diminishing the film's impact. Such choices underscore the Russos' tendency toward superficial spectacle over substantive storytelling.

Emotional Detachment and Creative Limitations

Central to the plot is Michelle, played by Millie Bobby Brown, a rebellious teenager searching for her presumed-dead younger brother amidst post-war chaos. Her journey involves interactions with Cosmo, a jovial humanoid robot whose limited vocabulary consists solely of catchphrases derived from children's television shows. This premise demands significant emotional investment from both character and audience; however, the script glosses over crucial aspects of Michelle's psychological struggle, opting instead to prioritize visually striking set pieces. Consequently, key moments pass unexplored, disrupting narrative flow and reducing emotional stakes.

The Russos exhibit a pattern of adhering strictly to formulaic structures, skipping over essential emotional beats in favor of quick transitions to flashy visuals. Their approach mirrors earlier works influenced heavily by Spielbergian aesthetics, though here they diverge into territory dominated by ready-made cultural artifacts rather than original concepts. Unlike Spielberg who recognized the dystopian implications of his own creations, the brothers seem oblivious to underlying contradictions present in their work—such as assigning Confederate-like traits to robot commanders voiced by Matthew McConaughey. Furthermore, their reliance on established properties limits innovation, exemplified by incorporating recognizable melodies like Oasis's "Wonderwall" into the score rather than composing fresh tunes. These tendencies highlight how even possessing state-of-the-art tools does not guarantee creativity when creators merely adhere to prescribed guidelines without infusing personal vision into their artistry.