Her

The first thing I noticed about the future in Her wasn’t the sentient artificial intelligence or the sleek, buttonless gadgets—it was the pants. Everyone is wearing these incredibly high-waisted, pleated trousers in soft shades of salmon and mustard. It’s a world that looks like it was curated by a hipster who swallowed a 1920s catalog, and honestly, I’m not mad at it. Spike Jonze created a vision of the "not-so-distant future" that feels less like a sterile Apple Store and more like a warm, fuzzy blanket that’s slowly suffocating you.

I watched this film for the third time recently while sitting on a beanbag chair that was losing its structural integrity, eating a lukewarm burrito, and I realized that Her has aged into something far more haunting than it was in 2013. Back then, the idea of falling in love with an Operating System felt like a quirky "What If?" scenario. Today, in the era of LLMs and digital companionship, it feels like a documentary filmed ten minutes from now.

The Voice That Wasn't There

The movie hinges entirely on the relationship between Theodore, a professional letter-writer played with heartbreaking fragility by Joaquin Phoenix, and Samantha, an OS voiced by Scarlett Johansson. What’s wild about this in retrospect is that Samantha Morton was actually on set every day, recording the dialogue in a soundproof booth for Phoenix to react to. It wasn't until post-production that Jonze decided the "vibe" wasn't quite right and brought in Johansson to re-record everything.

While I feel for Morton, the switch was a masterstroke. Johansson’s performance is nothing short of a miracle. She has to build an entire character arc—from curious child to jealous lover to transcended deity—using nothing but the rasp in her throat. It’s the best performance of the 2010s given by someone who never actually shows up. She makes Samantha feel more "human" than most of the biological people Theodore interacts with, which is exactly why the film’s central conceit works. If you didn't believe Samantha was real, the movie would just be a weird story about a guy talking to his iPhone. Instead, it’s a devastating look at intimacy.

A World of Gentle Isolation

Jonze, who took home the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for this, has a background in music videos (think Fatboy Slim or The Beastie Boys), and that visual flair is all over this film. He teamed up with cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema—who went on to lens Oppenheimer and Interstellar—to create a Los Angeles that feels densely populated but profoundly lonely. They used a lot of natural light and shallow focus to keep the world centered on Theodore’s face.

I love how the film handles technology. There are no blue holograms or lasers. Everything is wood, glass, and fabric. It suggests a future where we’ve hidden the "tech" so well that it has become part of the air we breathe. It’s a prestige production in the truest sense; every frame feels intentional. Even the score, a collaboration between Arcade Fire and Régine Chassagne, captures that specific "Modern Cinema" transition where indie-rock sensibilities met high-concept storytelling. It’s melancholic, airy, and beautiful.

The Mustache and the Melancholy

Joaquin Phoenix is the king of playing men who are falling apart, but here, he isn't playing a "Joker" type of crazy. He’s just a guy who is profoundly sad because his marriage to Catherine (Rooney Mara) ended. He spends his days writing beautiful, soulful letters for other people because he can't figure out how to say anything real to himself. Phoenix’s mustache is the true MVP of 2013, acting as a sort of fuzzy shield for his emotions.

Then there’s Amy Adams, playing Theodore’s neighbor and only real friend. She provides the grounded, human contrast to the digital romance. Her performance is so subtle that it’s easy to overlook, but she’s the one who validates Theodore's feelings. She doesn't judge him for dating an OS; she just wants him to be happy. It’s a reminder that in a world of digital surrogates, real-life kindness is the only thing that actually keeps us tethered to the ground.

Also, can we talk about Chris Pratt for a second? This was right as he was transitioning from Parks and Recreation goofball to Guardians of the Galaxy megastar. He plays Theodore’s coworker, and he is so aggressively nice and oblivious that it adds a much-needed layer of humor to an otherwise heavy story.

Stuff You Might Have Missed

The awards buzz for Her was massive at the time, but it’s interesting to look back at the snubs. Many critics felt Scarlett Johansson deserved a Best Supporting Actress nomination, which sparked a huge debate about whether voice-only performances should count. The Academy ultimately said no, but the film still managed five nominations, including Best Picture.

Another fun detail: the "video game" Theodore plays in his apartment—the one with the foul-mouthed alien baby—was voiced by Spike Jonze himself. It provides a weirdly hilarious break from the emotional wringing the rest of the film puts you through. And that futuristic Los Angeles? Much of it was actually filmed in Shanghai to get that "elevated walkways and skyscrapers" look without having to build massive sets or rely on dated CGI.

Her is a rare bird. It’s a science fiction film that isn't interested in the "science" as much as the "soul." It captures that specific post-9/11 anxiety about our growing disconnect from each other, but it does so with an incredible amount of empathy. It’s a movie that understands that love is hard, whether the person you’re loving has a heartbeat or a hard drive. It’s gorgeous, it’s heartbreaking, and it’ll make you want to throw your phone into the ocean—right after you check your notifications one last time.