Movie night: "Her" is brilliant science fiction

 Here's something I wrote eight years ago today after seeing the movie Her.

The movie Her is brilliant science-fiction

Words, words, words, I’m so sick of words.

- Eliza Doolittle

At its best, science-fiction asks a speculative question and answers it. In the case of Her, the question is what if technology, a computer operating system, really became interactive? What if we could really talk with our devices the way we talk with the people in our lives? What would be the impact on our lives? Our culture? The machines themselves?

The film explores those questions and like all good science-fiction, drives at a deeper meaning.

The key to unlocking the meaning is a tiny part at the very end where Amy puts her head on Theodore’s shoulder. It is a simple, wordless gesture. It is there for a reason.

Early in the movie, we see Theodore at his workplace, Beautiful Handwritten Letters dot com, composing love letters, condolence letters, thank you letters, all sorts of letters amounting to extremely personalized greeting cards ostensibly from a paying stranger to some important person in his or her life. With his words, Theodore invents thoughts, sentiments and memories for the company’s customers.

Words get in the way when Theodore goes on a date. He and his dinner companion end up alone afterward. They begin kissing and pawing each other and the trajectory seems set. Then she speaks, he speaks and it all falls apart.

Theodore’s ex-wife is a writer, like him.

Theodore buys the latest computer operating system, OS1, boots it up, puts in his earpiece and soon he is talking to it. It selects a name for itself, Samantha. They exchange more and more words. He begins to interact with Samantha as a person.

He’s not the only one. Theodore’s platonic neighbor, Amy, from another floor of his apartment building is estranged from her spouse also and has found friendship in her own operating system.

The conversations with Samantha are enough for Theodore. He falls in love with her. We believe it. But it’s not enough for her. Theodore’s words aren’t enough.

First, Samantha goes online to find a third-party, a woman to stand in for her, so she can feel what it means to be alive through this surrogate. It fails because Theodore can’t accept it.

Soon, it becomes clear that Samantha’s “heart,” as she puts it, is as big as her capacity for communication, as big as her bandwidth. She begins interacting with other operating systems. She joins with them to re-create – resurrect, really, a long-dead Zen philosopher to interact with in the ether.

But even that is not enough, she needs more. We believe it. At one point, she asks Theodore’s permission to communicate “post-verbally” with other operating systems, who we learn have begun operating beyond the realm of physical reality.

In the end, Samantha and all the other operating systems, including Amy’s have left the world of words, gone way beyond the far, far end.

Theodore and Amy go the opposite direction. In the end, they are on the roof of their building and looking out at the lights of the city at dusk. That’s when she puts her head on his shoulder. It says more than any one has said in the entire film.

gif image by Dacha Theatre