Love and Heartbreak In the Digital Age: How “Her” Reminded Me of What’s Real
- Arius Tran
In the spectrum of cinema, there are lots of movies that simply entertain us; some of them make us laugh or cry, while others scare or confuse us. And when the credits roll, these movies will linger ephemerally in our minds as positive afterthoughts – slowly fading away, hoping to be casually discussed at a later date once we’ve forgotten most of the plot.
And then there are the movies that truly move us, that shake us to our core, make a lasting impact on how we view the world, and become entwined with elements of our own experience. For me, Her is a prominent example of the latter. And even though I think the movie is a masterpiece on its own merit, it’s how the film pulled back the curtain on my own life that has made it unforgettable.
Even within the film, Spike Jonze manages to make the entire world melt away, leaving only Samantha and Theodore at the center of a retrofuturistic paradise.
The film had been out for about a year before I saw it, and it had already racked up lots of critical acclaim, but news of its artistry did not reach me over in Vietnam. I basically just stumbled upon the film via a streaming service and decided to watch it without knowing much about it. Little did I know that this was the exact movie I needed to watch at that very moment.
Back then, I was still reeling and heartbroken from a recent breakup. I was at that emotional low point where you question your own worth and whether you will ever find the love you’re looking for. When I popped on the movie, I was just looking for an escape. “Why not check it out?”, I thought. It would be two hours when I don’t think about my own “her”.
The story takes place in a contemporary yet futuristic world where the protagonist, Theodore, begins a peculiar romance with an operating system…a premise that hardly qualifies as science fiction after recent advances in AI technology. At first, I thought that this was just going to be some strange, artsy sci-fi flick, yet something about it had already gripped me. More than likely, Spike Jonze’s expertly crafted cuts, precise blocking, deep silences, and vivid colors had already mesmerized me without my noticing. Before I knew it, I was completely immersed in this melancholic yet whimsical world. I felt like time stopped, and only feelings moved around. Even within the film, Jonze manages to make the entire world melt away, leaving only Samantha and Theodore at the center of a retrofuturistic paradise.
Initially, I just watched the film to forget about my own “her” for a couple hours.
As their romance unfurled on screen, I began to realize why I was so transfixed; the movie was conjuring very specific vignettes from my own recent breakup. While I watched, my mind played back my personal days of wonder, nights of longing, and endless conversations about anything and everything. My eyes were savoring Sam and Theodore’s puppy love, but my heart was grieving. Each intimate moment between Joaquin Phoenix‘s person and Scarlett Johansson’s voice caused me to grasp at one of my own cherished memories, only to let it slip through my fingers once again. Once I realized I was feeling sadness even during the movie’s happier times, it all dawned on me. And it was at that moment that I realized I would never be the same after watching it.
For months after watching Her, I kept ruminating on the love I had not yet found. It wasn’t until later that I realized that, had I not watched the movie, I might still have been fixated on the love I lost. I can’t say that Her moved me more than any other film I’ve ever seen, but I can’t remember one being so directly linked to a major turning point in my life. Moving on from the movie felt like moving on with my own past trauma. It also made me think of my own narrow human experience; I felt my yester-self had fallen so far behind.
Her delves into the intricacies of human emotions and relationships in a way that reminds us of just how common heartbreak is. Not only did it help me process my own sadness, it reminded me that joy, pain, love, and suffering are all universal phenomena. Did the movie heal me? I don’t think so. Rather, it empowered me with greater perspective so that I could perceive my painful breakup as a single brush stroke in my life’s painting. I guess just like any artist, I’ve learned that some strokes cannot be undone, but every masterpiece contains a few marks that felt like mistakes in the moment. And as I write this letter nearly a decade after watching it for the first time, I can truly see that the movie will always remain a stroke of genius on my own canvas.
