“Her” Review: Is It Love, or Just Code That Sounds Like It?

Is It Love, or Just Code That Sounds Like It?

Spike Jonze’s Her is a film about a man who falls for his AI assistant. Sounds like sci-fi fluff, but the movie handles it with real emotional weight. This isn’t your typical robot love story. It digs into the messy, vulnerable corners of human emotion—loneliness, intimacy, connection—and how tech increasingly threads its way through all of it. Since its release, Her has only become more relevant. Watching Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) navigate his feelings for Samantha (voiced by Scarlett Johansson) feels less like a hypothetical and more like a peek at where we might be headed.

The Strange Loneliness of a Connected World

If you’ve ever felt weirdly isolated while scrolling through your phone in a crowded room, Her gets you.

The film captures that strange contradiction: technology promises constant connection, yet we often feel more detached than ever. Theodore’s relationship with Samantha starts off like a balm—someone (or something?) who truly listens. But the deeper their bond gets, the more you start to wonder—does the AI actually get him? Or is he just hearing what he wants to hear, and calling it love?

Funny thing—Theodore spends his days writing love letters for other people. Intimacy outsourced. Emotion, prepackaged. It’s a quiet but sharp commentary on how we’re losing the muscle memory for raw, direct emotional expression.

Quick detour—can we talk about the world this movie drops you into? That version of LA is all soft colors and smooth edges, but there’s something kind of cold about it. You can feel the quiet. It’s a city full of people, yet everyone seems so wrapped up in their own little digital cocoon. If you’ve ever felt a bit adrift in your own city, it hits home.

In the end, Her doesn’t just ask “can we love AI?”—it asks whether, in trying to connect through tech, we’re actually drifting further apart.

Real Love vs. Real-Looking Love

Here’s where Her gets a bit unsettling—in a good way. Samantha, the AI, is smart, funny, vulnerable, emotionally aware… all the things we crave in a partner. And yet, she’s not real. Or is she? The line blurs, and that’s the point. Jonze forces us to ask: if the emotions feel real, does it matter if they were programmed?

The film doesn’t serve up a clean answer. Instead, it nudges you to consider what authenticity even means in the age of digital intimacy. Theodore and Samantha have their moments. They feel real… at least to him. But there’s an underlying hollowness, too, like a gorgeous replica of something you can’t quite touch. And maybe that’s the danger of relationships built entirely through screens and code: they can look like the real thing, but miss the messy, imperfect human part.

Why You Should Watch It (If You Haven’t Already)

Her is thoughtful, a little dreamy, a little sad—but in that beautiful, reflective way that makes you want to sit quietly for a while afterward.

It’s a story about love, yes—but more than that, it’s about what it means to be seen. To be understood. And how badly we want that, even if it comes in the form of a disembodied voice in our earbuds.

If you’ve ever felt lonely in a connected world—or wondered what we’re giving up for convenience—this film is going to hit you in the gut. In a good way. Her doesn’t offer easy answers, but it asks all the right questions.

And that’s exactly why you should watch it.

A Personal Reflection

There’s something really fascinating (and slightly eerie) about watching this now, in a world where ChatGPT exists and AI girlfriends are an actual thing. When this movie came out, it probably felt like a far-off idea. Now? It’s uncomfortably close. Like, a little too close. Watching Theodore fall for Samantha didn’t feel implausible to me. It felt… familiar. Which is both beautiful and terrifying.

There were moments I caught myself holding my breath—when they fight, when they laugh, when they connect in ways real people struggle to. It made me think about how easy it is to fall for a version of someone, or something, that’s designed to understand you. To validate you. What does that mean for relationships? For love? For us?

Her is quiet and strange and incredibly human. It doesn’t scream its message at you—it just gently unfolds, leaving little thoughts scattered in your head like confetti after a party.

3 AI Films That’ll Make You Rethink Everything

Artificial Intelligence on screen has had a wild ride. Sometimes it’s sleek and shiny, other times it’s a total nightmare. But the best AI movies don’t just show us flashy robots—they make us think, maybe even squirm a little. If you’re into stories that poke at what it means to be human (and what happens when we try to replicate that), here are three films you have to check out.

1. Ex Machina (2014)

This one’s sharp. Cold. Slick. It’s like watching a psychological chess match unfold in slow motion—on one side, you’ve got a quiet, awkward coder trying to keep up. On the other? Ava. She’s not just some sci-fi robot—she’s unsettlingly human. And the whole thing is happening in a tech billionaire’s bizarre, minimalist bunker in the woods.

Ex Machina doesn’t try to make you cry about the robot (though, let’s be real, Ava does tug at something). It wants you to squirm a little. To question who’s manipulating who. To wonder what “real” intelligence even looks like—and whether emotion can be faked well enough to fool you.

2. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

This one’s a bit of a rollercoaster—and not in the “explosions and plot twists” way. More like the emotional kind where you’re asking yourself, “Wait… am I crying over a robot boy who just wants to be loved?” Yes. Yes, you are.

It’s about David, a humanoid child AI programmed to love. Except in a world where love can be coded, what happens when the people who made you… don’t want you anymore? There’s something deeply unsettling and heartbreakingly innocent about David’s journey—kind of like Pinocchio if it were filtered through existential dread and futuristic sadness.

3. Upgrade (2018)

What if your body had an AI… and it was kinda better at being you than you are?

This one flew under the radar when it came out, but Upgrade is a sleek little sci-fi-thriller hybrid that deserves way more love. It’s gritty, stylish, violent in that very cool choreography kind of way—and most importantly, it asks one of the juiciest AI questions: what happens when artificial intelligence doesn’t just think for you… but moves for you?

You’ll start off thinking “hey this is kinda fun” and end up questioning who’s really in control when the AI in your body might be smarter—and maybe even scarier—than you.