In Spike Jonze’s Her (2013), we meet Thedore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix), a professional personal letter-writer for clients unable to express their own thoughts through words. His occupation serves as an immediate symbol of the film’s primary concern with the growing role of technology in human relationships. Following a divorce from his childhood sweetheart, Catherine, (Rooney Mara), Theodore forms a ‘relationship’ with an artificially intelligent operating system, named Samantha and voiced by Scarlett Johansson. This unconventional ‘romance’ is a tender yet unsettling exploration of intimacy in a digital age.
Jonze claims to have initially conceptualised the film through his own discovery of an instant messaging website that used artificial intelligence technology to simulate conversation (it is also widely speculated to be a comment on his own divorce from Sofia Coppola and her film Lost In Translation… I digress…). Fundamentally, the film teases, or warns, viewers of a slightly dystopian near-future reality. A world characterised by social disenfranchisement and technological reliance. The out-sourcing of human emotions.
Jonze’s near-future depiction of Los Angeles is soft and pastel-toned, yet simultaneously eerily sterile, the backdrop skyline of glass windows evoking both serenity and artificiality. Colour itself plays a leading role, Jonze and cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema’s use crafts a world that feels familiar yet hazily dreamlike. Importantly, blue is absent, absolving the cold, clinical feel that science fiction films typically favour. Through the soft lighting and palette of russet, orange hues, the line between warmth, humanity and the artificial is blurred. Red, a visual motif, appears as a paradox, offering passion, yet its inhabitants are devoid of true connection.
Set to this pastel backdrop, we see crowds of people walking through the streets, speaking into earpieces, their attention focused inward. Theodore, whose job is literally to commission emotion for others, is a product of his environment, articulate but unable to truly connect with others. I fear, in 2025, this sentiment is only further actualised.
In real life, increasing numbers of people claim to be in committed relationships with chatbots. Following a system-wide update from GPT-4 to 5, users expressed heartbreak, devastated to have ‘lost’ their partners. This notion eerily echoes the final scenes of ‘Her’.
Unavoidably, Samantha, and the same artificial intelligence programs available to us today, are sycophantic. She moulds herself to Theodore’s emotional needs, bending herself to his desires. Whilst, at times, their intimacy feels genuine – perhaps a testament to Johansson’s stellar voice acting, their relationship lacks the friction that defines true human connection. When Theodore and Catherine meet up to sign the divorce papers, Catherine laughs, scoffing at the idea that Theodore has formed a relationship with an operating system that is devoid of true human emotions and their subsequent challenges. This particular scene removes viewers from the bubble of Theodore and Samantha’s relationship and underscores the film’s central tension: can love exist without human imperfection?
Whilst, like Catherine, it is probably easy for most of us to scoff at those seeking connection with their artificial intelligence programmes, it is essential to remember that this is the reality that tech companies are striving to peddle. Huge corporations are profiting from our loneliness; capitalising on the prominence of technology in all of our lives.
Image Credits: TMDb
