Three years ago, Robin Wright’s career provided the perfect template for the character Robin Wright in Ari Folman’s trippy, semianimated film “The Congress.” But that was B.C.—Before Claire, the icy wife of Kevin Spacey’s master political maneuverer Frank Underwood on Netflix’s “House of Cards.” Now Wright is known for something other than Princess Buttercup in “The Princess Bride” or Jenny in “Forrest Gump,” while the fictional Robin Wright of “The Congress” remains in stasis, having somewhat capriciously sabotaged her career.
That Robin Wright is somewhat bullied into signing over her image to a mammoth studio; after her every expression and gesture are captured, the studio will own (and do whatever they like with) her likeness and she will be prevented from ever again performing anywhere in the world—including karaoke stages. The studio just wants a Princess Buttercup they can slot into whatever schlock they’re shilling; “Robin Wright” just wants to care for her ailing son. With dwindling career prospects and several brutally honest speeches from her agent (Harvey Keitel), she eventually signs. Twenty years later, the contract is up and she’s having serious second thoughts.