Movie No. 3 of 2014 —Her
Director Spike Jonze gives us a Neu(romancer) for our times; easily the best film you’ll watch this year.
Imagine the city of the future — gleaming skyscrapers filled with well-fed, creative individuals, commuting between work and home on spacious, quiet trains, walking on broad pavements as clean as the pixels on a graphic designer’s computer screen.
This is the city in which we meet Theodore Twombly. By day, you can pay him to write heartfelt letters to your husband, or wife, or grandmother, or tennis coach. By night, we find him alone, playing video games amongst the gentle disarray of his bachelor pad, staring (through his Warby Parker glasses) at holographic visuals that throw light against his face like a fireplace. His melancholy life takes a turn when he installs a self-aware operating system on his computer who calls itself (or herself) Samantha. They fall in love, and we follow the intelligent and beautiful course of their relationship.
“Her” has marketed (rightfully, and shrewdly) as a “Spike Jonze love story”, but it promises — and delivers — a lot more. It packs in big ideas that are by turns philosophical and even theological, and it takes its premise (a man falling in love with a computer) to logically satisfying ends.
This film is a Neuromancer for our times — while far from “cyberpunk” (the city in which the film is set is sun-drenched by day and gently-lit by neon at night, its inhabitants materially satisfied), it articulates an equally perceptive exploration of modern society’s current relationship with technology. In William Gibson’s near-future Decaying Urban Sprawl, that relationship was one of paranoid fear and distrust; for Spike Jonze’s near-future Shiny Thriving Metropolis, it is instead one of intimate dependance and almost-invasive ubiquity.
This film takes its ideas very seriously, but the real reason it is both affecting and engaging is because it is very much in love with the characters — this is apparent from the acting on display here.
Joaquin Phoenix is an actor at the height of his powers. Throughout the film, he displays a range of emotions (often in the same scene, in the very same shot) that effectively erases any distance between us and Theodore. We feel what Theodore feels, we almost begin to think what he thinks. (We learn to love him just like Samantha does.) He had clearly earned well his Oscar nomination this year, and is a strong contender.
The rest of the cast is keenly aware of Jonze’s vision as well, and deliver equally praiseworthy performances. Amy Adams (re-united with Phoenix after last year’s brilliant “The Master”) is endearing as his frumpy video-game designer neighbour, and Chris Pratt — to the delight of Parks and Recreation fans — is his snarky-yet-lovable co-worker.
And the rest of the production serves to underscore the heady joy promised by both love and technology: the soundtrack by Arcade Fire is a thoughtful and understated mix of summery synth, heartfelt piano and ukelele, with dashes of unplugged rock. Every frame is drenched with soft light and warm tones. The film, in dealing with love and its attendant memories (Theodore has a past relationship to reckon with), also features exemplary use of flashbacks — a cinematic technique more abused instead of properly used.
Indeed, “Her” becomes something that is larger than the sum of its parts, attaining a mesmerising transcendence like Theodore and Samantha themselves.
Interesting subtexts lie in the facts regarding the production. The AI was originally voiced by Samantha Morton, but Scarlett Johansson (whose husky, playful voice is really a character in its own right here) substituted her late in post-production. If anything, it only heightens the discorporality of the relationship.
The movie itself is funded by 27-year-old independent producer Megan Ellison and her company Annapurna Pictures: Megan happens to be the younger daughter of Larry, CEO of Oracle, one of the world’s most important tech firms. (Are you feeling unnerved and intrigued in equal measure at that fact? That is the same mixture of emotion you will encounter throughout the course of the film, not unlike — we might imagine — falling in love with a non-coporeal artificial intelligence.)
Post-film, you might find your eyes slightly wet, and your (heart and) mind in a pensive mood. It’s difficult not to fall in love with this “Spike Jonze love story”, and no matter how it ends, you know you will cherish the experience — just like any good romance.
