I’m Not a Robot: The Wrath and Terror of Being Made to Fit in Captivating Sci-Fi Drama

The amusing logline of Victoria Warmerdam’s 22-minute I’m Not a Robot belies a splendidly constructed drama whose emotional force has the intensity of—and we say this without a shred of irony—adolescent life. Cornered by a devastating and absolutely life-altering revelation, the threat of being frozen within a byte-sized vision of what she is made for and can do, the protagonist reacts with fury, propelled by fear, and we never waver in our sympathy for her. She feels, and we feel with her.

In terms of writing, its particular focus on this moment of and surrounding the anagnorisis makes I’m Not a Robot special. But the film is transformed by Ellen Parren’s electric performance as Lara, the very fundamentals of whose existence is brought into question and whose response becomes the film’s title. Pam (Thekla Reuten) is right: Parren owns every syllable and breath of the word “feisty”. So much so that quoting the loathsome woman—the enemy; so grating and frankly terrifying—brings an automatic flinch.

Lara is a music producer. (The film opens with a cover of “Creep”, progressively justifying itself over the course of the film.) Failing multiple attempts at a captcha test, the ludicrous suspicion of being a bot sends Lara into a brilliantly choreographed and shot sequence whose urgency feels nearly like frenzy, in which finding a quiet place to sit makes itself as fraught a mission as getting a hold of her boyfriend, Daniël (Henry van Loon) on call. The score—partway haunting, partway mocking, and hence its genius—teams with the editing to bolster Parren’s showcase of Lara’s crisis. Lara must be the professional at work, must not be the woman unhinged when Daniël shows up at work, especially not when he comes accompanied by a strange, presumptuous woman (a maddening Reuten).

van Loon delivers a fine performance in his own right. Daniel’s betrayal—revealed with about as much compassion as a corporate laying off its employees to save profits—makes him intolerable, frankly makes his face appear very punchable and more, but the actor complicates the character just enough to elevate him out of monotony. Sure, Daniel is given minute scope for sympathy in the writing itself—indeed, the hesitation that it produces is the point—but we have sufficient film history behind us to know that that can fall short. The actor configures contemptibility and just a hint of sorrow into his role so well that Lara’s rage, compounded by conflict and doubt, becomes that much more understandable and acute. Pam and Daniel make a fine team. Where the former is cold and formidable, the latter is cowardly and pathetic; yet, Pam is in Daniel’s service, and speaks for him.

The cinematography honours Lara, especially in the rooftop climax. Intensity of emotion translates to dazzling sun, crisp colour, and razor sharp shots. She may have little wiggle room, but there can be no doubts about her determination.

And if the choir rendition got viewers’ attention in the opening, its use in the outro brilliantly and bleakly reinforces the sheer inescapability of the conditions of Lara’s existence. The obviously fake blood is the sad cherry on top. The only regret is the criminal obscuring of Parren’s performance in the final seconds behind the end credits.

I’m Not a Robot exquisitely crystallises the experience of being a teenager (though that might be just a by-product), of being a woman, of being, only being in the world under the reinforced illusion of autonomy. There is all the sky open to your eyes and yet you may not draw breath.

Watch I’m Not a Robot Short Film