remote island

Ron Howard’s new film “Eden” is a true story about disenchanted Europeans, who, in the 1930s, escaped from their society and decamped on a lonely rock in the Galapagos, only to see their handmade utopia devolve into petty power struggles and murder. It’s also lurid proof that Charles Darwin missed out on the truly juicy survival-of-the-fittest action by about a hundred years.

This is certainly unusual material for a mainstream stalwart like Howard, who knows his way around heroic problem-solving narratives (“Apollo 13,” the Thai cave rescue movie “Thirteen Lives”). But in screenwriter Noah Pink’s melodramatic imagining of incidents both well-documented and mysterious, one can see this Hollywood veteran on a mission to loosen the shackles of his reputation and have some nasty, brutish fun. To wit: A perma-sneering Jude Law greets intruders naked; a wild-eyed Ana de Armas insults and tries to seduce everyone; Vanessa Kirby lets foreplay include the pulling of her diseased tooth; Sydney Sweeney gives birth alone while growling at a pack of wild dogs.

The result may not be terribly illuminating about the (sub)human condition, despite the shout-outs to Nietzsche and Schopenhauer. “Eden” is probably closer to an expensive reality show about mismatched survivalists. But as August fare goes, it’s a sticky, sweaty hoot, well cast and paced like a disreputable beach read, even if you might sporadically wish Werner Herzog had gotten first crack at this material. (It was also covered in a 2013 documentary.)

The first transplants to the uninhabited island of Floreana were German botanist Dr. Friedrich Ritter (Law) and his devoted, ailing partner, Dore (Kirby). Scolds who glorified suffering against the world’s wrong turns, the pair sought a radical reboot of society in rugged isolation, save the inconvenient fact that Ritter’s grandstanding philosophical missives back home were published in newspapers, turning them into eccentric folk heroes. Soon, their precious suffering took the form of new neighbors: idealistic war veteran Heinz Wittmer (Daniel Brühl) and his wide-eyed young wife Margret (Sweeney), who are looking for a new, self-sufficient way of life for their budding family.

It’s difficult to imagine a worse addition to this oil-and-water mix of high-minded nonconformist cranks and hard-toiling middle-class settlers than a capitalist sybarite. Enter the grandiose Baroness Eloise (De Armas), carried like Cleopatra onto the beach by her male lovers (Toby Wallace and Felix Klammerer), and ready to claim Floreana as the future site of an exclusive luxury resort called Hacienda Paradiso. Her first order of business, however, is pitting the scowling Ritter and bland, industrious Wittmers, who had managed a bearable distance so far, against each other.

The island, given an appropriately sickly, uninviting sheen by cinematographer Mathias Herndl, clearly wasn’t big enough for all of these new-world experimenters. But the movie’s two hours offer plenty of room for their portrayers. Howard’s generosity with his actors keeps this ensemble a charged group of clashing molecules. You wouldn’t mistake anybody’s turn for a full-throated or, conversely, subtle characterization — there’s a messiness to the cutting that prioritizes motion over stillness — but the broad strokes of personality are fun.

At its most raw (or is it overcooked?), when de Armas’ loaded-gun vibe veers toward camp or Law peacocks his pomposity with a hint of desperation, the situation may remind you of some insane pre-Code potboiler like 1932 “The Most Dangerous Game,” when a tale of people at their worst seemed all the more fascinating for unfurling in an exotic locale. Just because this corrupting pity party doesn’t crescendo so much as peter out isn’t any more of a reason to dismiss “Eden.” A little time spent with the farcical maneuverings of isolated megalomaniacs means you can skip reading the news that day.

There are rare moments in the culture when a children’s book resonates with everyone. Parents who buy the book for their kids find themselves moved by a story that is not intended for them but somehow speaks to them. Peter Brown’s “The Wild Robot” is one such book.

A tender-hearted fable about a robot who washes ashore on a remote island and goes native, the 2016 middle-grade novel from Little, Brown Books for Young Readers has spawned two sequels and last year’s hit (and Oscar-nominated) adaptation from DreamWorks Animation, with book sales for the series topping 6.5 million worldwide. Brown has now created a picture book titled “The Wild Robot on the Island,” a gateway for those still too young to read the original work.

“This new book gave me a chance to create these big, colorful, detailed illustrations, while still maintaining the emotional tone of the novel,” says Brown, who is Zooming from the Maine home he shares with his wife and young son. “I’ve added some little moments that aren’t in the novel to give younger readers an introduction and when they’re ready, they can turn to the novel.”

“The Wild Robot on the Island” picture book is geared for a younger audience than Brown’s earlier children’s novels featuring Roz the robot and friends.

(Peter Brown / Little, Brown Books for Young Readers)

The new book’s mostly-pictures-with-some-words approach is a return to Brown’s earlier work when he was creating charming fables for toddlers about our sometimes fraught, sometimes empathetic attitude toward nature. In 2009’s “The Curious Garden,” a boy encounters a patch of wildflowers and grass sprouting from an abandoned railway and decides to cultivate it into a garden, while 2013’s “Mr. Tiger Goes Wild” finds the title character longing to escape from the conventions of a world where animals no longer run free. This push and pull between wilderness and civilized life, or wildness versus timidity, has preoccupied Brown for the duration of his career, and it is what brought Brown to his robot.

“I was thinking about nature in unlikely places, and the relationships between natural and unnatural things,” says Brown, a New Jersey native who studied at Pasadena’s Art Center College of Design. “And that led to the idea of a robot in a tree.” Brown drew a single picture of a robot standing on the branch of a giant pine tree, then put it aside while he produced other work. But the image wouldn’t let him go: “Every couple of months, I would think about that robot.”

Brown began researching robots and robotics, and slowly the story gestated in his mind. “Themes began to emerge,” says Brown. “Mainly, the idea of this robot becoming almost more wild and natural than a person could be. That was so fascinating to me that I wanted to let this thing breathe and see where it took me.”

Brown knew the involved narrative he had imagined wouldn’t work in picture book form; he needed to write his story as a novel, which would be new territory for him. “When I pitched the idea to my editor, she basically said, ‘Pump your brakes,’ ” says Brown. “If I was going to write, I had to include illustrations as well. The publisher thought it was a bit of a risk. They wanted pictures in order to sell it, because of what I had done in the past.”

(Little, Brown Books for Young Readers)

Brown locked himself away out in the wilds of Maine, in a cabin with no Wi-Fi, and got down to it. “I was nervous, and my editor wasn’t sure, either,” says Brown, who cites Kurt Vonnegut as a literary influence. “I realized there was no other option but for me to do it. And once I got into it, I had a blast.”

Like all great fables, Brown’s story is deceptively simple. A cargo ship full of robots goes down in the middle of the ocean. Some of these robots, still packed in their boxes, wash ashore on a remote island. A family of otters opens one such box, which turns out to be Roz, Brown’s wild robot. As Roz explores this strange new world, she encounters angry bears, a loquacious squirrel and industrious beavers, who regard her as a malevolent force. But the robot’s confusion, and the animal’s hostility, soon dissolve into a mutual understanding. Roz is the reader’s proxy, an innocent who acclimates to the complex rhythms of the natural world. Eventually she is subsumed into this alien universe, a creature of nature who allows birds to roost on her chromium shoulder.

“Roz has been programmed to learn, but her creators, the men who built her, don’t expect her to learn in this particular way,” says Brown. “And so she uses that learning ability to mimic the animals’ behavior and learns how to communicate with them. Roz is the embodiment of the value of learning, and part of that is adapting, changing, growing.”

The story isn’t always a rosy fairy tale. There are predators on the island; animals are eaten for sustenance. Real life, in short, rears its ugly head. “It gets tricky. Life is complicated, right?”, says Brown. “But thanks to Roz’s influence, all the animals discover how they are all a part of this interconnected community.”

Roz adopts an abandoned gosling that she names Brightbill, and the man-made machine is now a mother, flooded with compassion for her young charge. Their relationship is the emotional core of Brown’s series. At a time when the world is grappling with the increasing presence of robotic technology in everyday life, Brown offers an alternative view: What if we can create robots that are capable of benevolence and empathy? Roz reminds us of our own humanity, our capacity to love and feel deeply. This is why “The Wild Robot” isn’t just a kid’s book. It is in fact one of the most insightful novels about our present techno-anxious moment, camouflaged as a children’s book.

The author kept his underlying fable intact in the new “Wild Robot” picture book.

(Peter Brown / Little, Brown Books for Young Readers)

“Technology is a double-edged sword,” says Brown. “There’s obviously a lot of good that is happening, and will continue to happen, but in the wrong hands it can be dangerous.” He mentions Jonathan Haidt’s bestselling book “The Anxious Generation,” and Haidt’s prescriptions for restricting internet use among children, which Brown endorses. “I don’t have a lot of answers, but I just think we need to reinvest in our own humanity,” he says. “We have to make sure things are going in the right direction.”

In subsequent books, the outside world impinges on Roz’s idyll. “The Wild Robot Escapes” finds Roz navigating the dangers of urban life and humans with guns, while a toxic tide in “The Wild Robot Protects” leaves the animals scrambling for ever more scarce resources. None of this is pedantic, nor is it puffed up with moral outrage. Brown knows children can spot such flaws a mile away. Like all great adventure tales, Brown’s “Wild Robot” stories embrace the wild world in all of its splendor, without ever flinching away from it.

“In the books, I just wanted to acknowledge that the world is complicated, and that people we think are bad aren’t necessarily so,” says Brown, who is currently writing the fourth novel in the “Wild Robot” series. “Behind every bad action is a really complicated story, and I think kids can handle that. They want to be told the truth about things, they want to grapple with the tough parts of life.”