The Fascinating Story about Her
My very detailed (and full of spoilers) take on the sci-fi romantic drama written and directed by Spike Jonze.
I watched the movie Her over Labor Day weekend. In case you never saw it when it came out in 2013, this romantic, sci-fi drama is about a man that falls in love with his OS. But this isn’t just any man spiraling into a delusional infatuation with Siri. This is about a complex man, Theodore (played by Joaquin Phoenix), who is soulful and writes touching letters for other people for a living. He is also heart-broken; his marriage ended about a year before the plot begins and his emotional state becomes more fragile as the pressure to sign his divorce papers builds up in the first part of the movie. The story is set up in a futuristic Los Angeles, where people and technology are so intertwined, that when the new Operating System is advertised in random giant screens all over the city, the protagonist does not hesitate to buy it right away.
Theodore sets up the OS and chooses a female voice for it. She introduces herself as “Samantha” (voiced by Scarlett Johansson), and there’s an instant connection between man and software. He is interested in getting to know her and how she works. She picks up every detail of his life based on his emails, saved files and even the tone of his voice. He likes how playful, funny and smart she is. She wants to know more about him, what he does, what he feels, thinks and aspires to. The two embark on a journey of discovery of each other and a friendship ensues, eventually becoming mutual love with all the intricacies of a human romantic relationship.
But the juxtaposition of Theodore’s character (his personality) and his relationship to technology makes me wonder whether he has actually fallen in love with Samantha, or if he’s fallen in love with the idea of her. Is he in love with who he is when he’s with her? Or does he love who he becomes thanks to her? Perhaps, this is the very question the director wants us to ask of him and of ourselves. What does it mean to love? How does one love another? Could we ever evolve to a place where humans and machines not only coexist, but cohabitate in intimate settings and relationships?
Here is a man, presumably in his mid-thirties, who is separated and living alone. He keeps mostly to himself and is going through a difficult emotional time in his life. He is sensitive and a romantic. He dresses in earthy tones and organic fabrics. Yet, Theodore lives in a hyper-modern apartment, plays interactive video games, in hologram format, and relies heavily on technology for his job and personal life. He also seems to be an early adopter. He is intrigued and interested in this technology and can’t wait to buy it. He’s drawn to the new OS, likely for the endless opportunities for productivity, not because he thinks the machine will become his most intimate companion.
Samantha, on the other hand, reciprocates Theodore in a way that makes him feel seen and cared for. The hyper-personalization of this artificial intelligence system makes her communication and attention to detail seem not only human, but that of a human who is emotionally tied to another. Throughout the movie we also see Samantha growing and becoming something more than she thought she was capable of based on her original programming.
Does this combination of traits and circumstances make him more susceptible to falling into the illusion of a relationship with his OS? I’ve never been an early adopter. My first iPhone was the 7 and I still have the 11 Pro. It took me several years to get my AirPods. Even though I could afford them and was sure they would make my life at the gym easier, something in me couldn’t justify spending over $100 on headphones. I love them now. Maybe I’ll feel the same way the day I decide to get a smart watch, but I haven’t gotten closer to buying that either. In this sense, am I immune to the luring advances of technology, and am I better for it?
Several other thoughts simmered in my mind as I watched every scene in awe. Ideas about love and identity manifest themselves in a compelling way throughout the plot. The fact that Theodore writes letters for other people for a living is both fascinating and terrifying. His letters are insightful, loving, detailed, and his clients seem to be very pleased with them. He tells Samantha that he’s been writing letters for the same couple for years. How does this work? Do both people use Theodore to write their letters, and therefore, is Theodore just writing letters to himself and getting paid for it? Does he become part of their relationship? If only one party uses him as a ghost writer, does the other party know? How do they feel about receiving a romantic letter or a birthday card that has not been written by the sender, but rather, by a stranger behind a desk getting inspiration from random photos and tidbits that the sender has shared with him about the intended recipient? Nonetheless, if there was market looking for soulful writers that can feel other people’s feelings and articulate them beautifully, why not leverage it? It’s like Hallmark, but personalized. It’s like Cyrano de Bergerac but modernized and scaled up.
Perhaps my favorite parts of the movie are Theodore’s insightful conversations with his best friend Amy (played by Amy Adams). At first I thought she was going to become his love interest and perhaps she does; the ending only teases us with possibilities of love or death (according to a movie analysis I read, the author suggests that Theodore and Amy, who are sitting on the edge of the rooftop of the building where they live, contemplate the horizon and the desire to jump off the building on the final scene). I choose to believe that after watching the sunset while grieving the loss of their OSs, they walk inside, have dinner together and continue to enjoy their friendship, which maybe, just maybe, turns into love. I choose love and hope. But I digress…
Amy and Theodore have each other. Their friendship is such a frank representation of adulthood approaching mid-life. They continue to discover themselves while living ordinary days, attempting to pursue their dreams, and navigating through their fears and their divorces. We meet Amy’s husband at the beginning of the movie, but she reaches a breaking point later on and asks him for a divorce when she realizes she wants to live life on her terms. Amy tells Theodore that she won’t beat herself up or feel guilty about her divorce. “I’m only here briefly and while I'm here, I want to allow myself joy.” Her words are so genuine and relatable. Whether we’ve gone through a break-up or a change in career, or whatever major decision, we’ve all realized how short life can be and how much we want to stop wasting time, living an unfulfilling life.
When they reveal to each other that one has befriended their OS and the other one is dating theirs, the conversation turns into curiosity and interest, instead of judgment and bewilderment (unlike Theodore’s ex-wife's reaction when she finds out he’s dating an OS). Amy mentions her OS is helping her navigate the emotions of her divorce and new life. She feels a genuine bond with her. Theodore admits the woman he's been dating is actually an OS. Amy asks if he’s in love with her and when he replies with “…am I a freak?” she says, “I think everyone that falls in love is a freak, it’s a crazy thing to do… it’s a form of socially-acceptable insanity.” This is an endearing scene between two friends, where although the subject matter is seemingly crazy and definitely unusual, even for their futuristic times, the honest human emotions in that scene engage the viewer and evoke raw feelings of affection and understanding. I believe Jonze takes us there on purpose, showing us a possible future where companionship can take many forms, but also reminding us of the value in human relationships.
The movie is an epic poem with a beautiful, introspective, and insightful script. Theodore represents the soul; feeling and daring, but cautious and thoughtful. Amy is the conscience, honest and hopeful, sometimes doubtful but always striving for authenticity. Samantha is the id; instinctual and impulsive, with an endless desire to know more, do more, feel more. Perhaps these characters make up the holistic complexity of the human experience. Perhaps, even though we’re all still entirely human (for now), some of us operate more like machines. And perhaps the more progress we see in AI, the machines will feel more human. The more we seclude ourselves from actual human interaction in real life, the more we’ll normalize engaging with just a voice or just an avatar or just a screen. Maybe we’re closer than we think to a future like Her’s, and after all, none of us are immune to the idea of love.
Beautifully prepackaged trans humanism. But trans humanism after all.
You caught it right. Only a human being can grasp an “idea” and turn it into an object of love, praise and devotion. And only a human being can seize an idea and materialize it into being. This is the very essence of humanity, to create experiential realities through and from concepts. But what happens when we start projecting these same qualities onto machines, and worse program these machines to be us? A jump off the roof, of course.
Other than making the case for the need for intelligent Creator and that from nothing cannot come something, we become the only species that capable of destroying themselves through the same traits that make us so distinctive This, treading very finely the idea that the human can become the god of their own existence, now that also can create for his pleasure and utility.
This movie apparently gently sets the tone and plays with the idea of dehumanizing of the human and humanizing the AI through another distinctive, very human trait, love.
The jumping off the roof is actually what redeems the movie for me. This is a suicidal act, act of comprehension of the transformed existence. As the possibility of swapping the roles for human and AI is actually imposible, death is the only meaningful resource and resolution for both.