I finally watched the third season of Love, Death and Robots on Netflix. For those unfamiliar with it, Love, Death and Robots is an animated science fiction anthology with no binding theme or premise.

The first episode, “Three Robots: Exit Strategies”, continues the tales of the delightful robot trio from Season One’s “Three Robots”. However, this season’s episode plays its hand heavily and unsubtly, the focus moving from the charming characters to the ridiculousness of humanity’s extinction. It pulls few punches, targeting the US tech elite and redneck preppers alike.

Some episodes struck a darker tone. “Swarm” was the most unsettling. It surmises that “intelligence is not a winning survival trait”, a theme touched other powerful science fiction like Starship Troopers.

“Mason’s Rats” and “Kill Team Kill” embodied compassion and heart. The former deals with the horrors of war and the inability to see each other as human, adopting a slightly stylized art style. The latter’s highlight was the banter between squad members, showing a macho love and mutual respect that can be hard to portray.

“Bad Travelling” was my favourite episode, mixing a desaturated palette, the isolation of Renaissance-era sea travel and Cthulhu-esque horror. Its aesthetics and premise reminded me of the Arkane series of computer games, but its unpredictable plot and clever writing made it the most satisfying episode of the season.

“In Vaulted Halls Entombed” also deals with Cthulhu-style horror but reminds humanity that our weapons and exploits pale compared to nature. There is much we do not understand.

“Jabiro”, the last episode, has a more contemporary, mundane theme. It is a tragedy, depicting a “toxic relationship” between a mythical, gold-scaled siren infatuated with a deaf knight she cannot call to his death and the knight that wants her for her treasure. This episode is sometimes confusing and confronting, with jarringly and intimately close camera shots and no dialog.

The animation quality is superb. Most went with a hyper-realistic representation, demonstrating how far animation technology has come. The sound design and foley are also excellent.

One exception to the realistic style is the “Night of the Mini Dead”, which is a refreshing contrast to the others’ sombre tones. It combines long, wide camera shots with shallow focal depth and sped-up motion and audio to turn a tragedy into a comedy, showing how most issues we deem important are actually irrelevant.  

Another exception is “The Very Pulse of the Machine”, which uses a traditional, cell-shaded art style. This style suits its examination of consciousness. It feels more at home in a Beatles or David Bowie music video, where the line between the real and imagined is hard to discern.

I enjoy anthologies because they demand little from the viewer but an open mind. In a time when many series have vast narrative arcs and exhaustingly complex characters, anthologies episodes are short and easily consumed. You lose little if you watch episodes separately. 

Moreover, without the pressure to fill umpteen episodes, the need to one-up previous arcs or huge budgets, anthologies are usually concise and succinct. There is no padding, no side stories and no fluff. Each exists as a statement and monument in itself.

Love, Death and Robots continues to deliver thought-provoking, albeit niche, material. It will not appeal to those looking for traditional stories or anything longer than about twenty minutes. However, it remains refreshingly different – a choc chip in the cookie.