Her

I can’t live without my phone. I can’t deal with not being connected to everyone I know all the time.

The premise of “Her” seems ridiculous — a man falling in love with his computer. Spike Jonze’s film is about our outrageous, silly and crippling need as human beings to be connected constantly.

We might balk or scoff at this, a movie so obviously making fun of our senseless devotion to technology. But “Her” is a charming and honest love story that’s relatable in more ways than one.

Theodore Twombly, played with subtle nuance and quirky charm by Joaquin Phoenix, is a man who doesn’t know what he wants. He’s separated from his wife Catherine (Rooney Mara), but he is unable to let go, refusing to sign the divorce papers for almost a year.

Theodore mostly blames himself for what went wrong with Catherine. He wasn’t ready to commit to his marriage because he hadn’t learned enough about himself and what he wanted before entering into it.

When he becomes close with his new artificially intelligent operating system, Samantha, voiced by Scarlett Johansson, she’s eager for him to show her the world.

As Theodore helps Samantha learn, he rediscovers the wonder of the world and regains the self-confidence he lost with Catherine.

Even though the only physical evidence that Samantha exists is an earpiece and a small tablet device, their love is real. Johansson and Phoenix have more chemistry than most on-screen romances.

Like other features from Jonze, especially “Being John Malkovich”, “Her” gets philosophical. But it never gets muddled or confusing.  It sticks to relatable post-2000 themes like self-discovery and letting go. Phoenix, an underrated talent, embodies the insecure young adult Theodore.

“Her” isn’t perfect. The script is oddly vulgar at times. It’s off-putting and doesn’t need to be there.

The not-so-distant future L.A. is mostly believable, but with its bright colors and indie soundtrack, the movie can’t help but feel like an Apple ad occasionally.

At the heart of “Her” is its honesty and relatability. It’s a very sincere film from Jonze.
In its final scene, Theodore and his platonic friend and neighbor Amy (played by Amy Adams) share a moment of reverence. They’ve been going through many of the same things throughout the film.

As the final shot fades to black, we hear a sigh. Without a word, the movie has communicated so much with its final gesture — one that is beautiful, sad and subtle, but above all is wholly and sincerely human.