Pleasant vibe from switched-on, futuristic 'Robot & Frank'

There's a sunny simplicity to "Robot & Frank," which isn't nearly as cutesy as its title makes it sound. In a lot of indie films, "Robot" would be the name of Frank's dog, or maybe the name of Frank's vintage VW Microbus, and Frank would almost certainly be a woman, and probably a lesbian. Here, however, the filmmakers are just telling it like it is: The stars of the movie are Frank, and a robot valet who lives with Frank.

The story unfolds in "the near future," which means that most of the buildings, cars, and so forth look like the buildings, cars, and so forth of today, but that there have been amazing advances in the field of robotics. Take your Roomba and shove it, 2012! In "the near future," we have robots that can clean the entire house, remind you to take your vitamins and whip up a well-balanced meal from whatever you have in the fridge and cupboards.

It's about time, too, since the younger generation has people to see and places to go, and taking care of the elderly was really cramping its style. Now, if curmudgeonly Grandpa or Grandma insists on living at home, hey, no big deal. Mom or Dad can just toodle over to the Robo Mart on the way back from zero-gravity soccer practice and pick up the latest in at-home assistance, a customizeable robot companion and caretaker.

Such is the plight of the Weld family, consisting of senior citizen Frank (Frank Langella), adult children Hunter (James Marsden) and Madison (Liv Tyler), and the absent wife and mother who divorced Frank and, as Hunter not-so-patiently reminds him, "moved out 30 years ago." Frank's memory, you see, is not so sharp anymore, the foremost complication to his living at home alone in upstate New York.

We learn a few other things about Frank: He was a successful cat burglar a married successful cat burglar with two kids? and went to prison for a while, resulting in a term of paternal abandonment that's plainly still eating at Hunter. Madison is a little more forgiving, but a lot less present in Frank! 's life, hippy-dippy do-gooding in various locations around the globe, while Hunter resentfully, yet dutifully, checks in with Frank.

That sort of thing can't go on indefinitely, of course, and Frank's dementia is gradually worsening, so Hunter finally gets him a nameless robot caretaker that comes complete with plans to optimize Frank's nutrition, improve his health and maybe even help him rebuild a few of his languishing synapses. Frank is plenty dubious, at first, but then mild-mannered companionable Robot starts to grow on him.

There's also a low-key romantic subplot, as one of Franks few remaining pleasures is to visit the local library, which still has real, actual paper- and clothbound books and, better yet, a cute librarian (Susan Sarandon) who's in Frank's age bracket.

The stately Langella gives a touching and wonderful performance as Frank, subtly and expertly conveying the dismay, disorientation and frequent embarrassment of diminished retention and rationality. Frank shrugs off his misstatements, tries valiantly to feign understanding and awareness of the gaps in his thinking. He also drifts back into his questionable past, in ways both small a habit of shoplifting minor items from the place in town that used to be his favorite restaurant and, over time, more complex.

The role of Robot is shared by an actress in a suit, Rachel Ma, and Peter Sarsgaard as the mellifluous, reassuring voice that's a lot like Hal, the shipboard computer from "2001: A Space Odyssey," only without the homicidal self-awareness.

Speaking of which, as most films about robots do, "Robot & Frank" gradually becomes largely centered on the question of whether Robot is a who, or merely a that. Langella and Sarsgaard do excellent work together, both in leading us to accept Frank's growing attachment to Robot, and opening the question of whether Robot might be more than the sum of its his? programming.

To the filmmakers' credit, however, the film never abandons Frank's own issues and connection! s with h is family. It preserves the human story, introduces the robot question, and even finds time for a not-entirely-over-the-hill cat burglar to get himself and his mechanical sidekick embroiled in one last caper.

There are a couple of poignant and clever surprises, a moving and wistful goodbye or two, and an overall sense of satisfaction, marred only a little bit by this and that whiff of contrivance. The female cast is also a bit wasted: Tyler is neither as convincing nor as engaged as Marsden, and Sarandon's impact is mostly limited to a single scene.

On balance, however, "Robot & Frank" is anything but robotic. It's a warm, low-key tale of friendship that may cause more than a few viewers to wonder just how far off "the near future" is, anyway, and how soon they might be able to purchase a Robot of their own.