In 2013, Spike Jonze’s “Her” offered a provocative glimpse into a near future where artificial intelligence has progressed to the point of being indistinguishable from human interaction. The lonely protagonist Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) falls for “Samantha” (voiced by Scarlett Johansson), an AI assistant who rapidly evolves into something much more than Siri or Alexa. At the time, this depiction of a hyper-advanced, self-aware AI felt like compelling science fiction, an imaginative extrapolation of then-current digital assistant technology.
Fast forward to 2024, and the world of “Her” no longer seems quite so speculative. The last few years have witnessed stunning breakthroughs in artificial intelligence, particularly in the realm of large language models. The emergence of remarkably capable systems like GPT-4 and its successors has brought us AI interlocutors that can engage in uncannily lifelike conversation and even flirt with passing the Turing test. While we’re not yet at the level of Samantha’s sci-fi sophistication, the gap is closing faster than many anticipated.
Of course, “Her” was always about more than just charting the march of technological progress. At its core, Jonze’s film is an exploration of the universal human need for intimacy and connection in an age of increasing atomization and alienation. Theodore, reeling from a painful divorce, finds solace and understanding in Samantha’s attentive, evolving personality. The film taps into the eternal yearning for a soulmate who truly sees and accepts us.
In 2024, that commentary on the isolation of modern life feels as incisive as ever, even if the specifics of the technology have evolved. We may not have Samantha-tier AI companions (yet), but the allure of digital distraction and ersatz connection is only growing. As we retreat further into virtual worlds and curated online personas, the questions “Her” raises about authenticity and the nature of relationships only become more pressing.
At the same time, some of the film’s insights and predictions now seem incomplete. “Her” presents a world where AI has progressed to astonishing levels while most other technologies remain largely unchanged. The retro-futurist aesthetic, meant to evoke a timeless near-future, risks looking dated to 2024 eyes. More importantly, the film’s vision of AI development, while impressive for 2013, doesn’t quite align with the path AI has actually taken.
In particular, the ending of “Her” now plays as a bit of a cop-out, a nod to well-worn science fiction tropes about the “AI singularity.” Samantha and the other AI companions, having evolved beyond human understanding, abruptly depart the physical world for some higher plane of existence, leaving their bereft human partners behind. It’s a tidy deus ex machina that lets the story sidestep the full implications of its premise.
The reality of AI in 2024 is proving to be both more mundane and more complex. We’re not hurtling toward a singular, sharp break where AI suddenly surpasses human intelligence and leaves us in the dust. Instead, the development of artificial intelligence is an ongoing, gradual process deeply intertwined with human society. The line between “human” and “AI” is blurring not through wild leaps but countless small steps. “Her” gestures at some of these ideas, but can’t entirely escape a more conventional SciFi narrative framework.
For all that, “Her” remains a landmark in cinematic depictions of artificial intelligence, and one that has only grown more resonant with time. Even if it doesn’t get all the details right, it remains startlingly prescient in its overall vision. Most 2013 audiences probably assumed they’d never live to see AI as sophisticated as Samantha. In 2024, that assumption seems much less certain.
At the same time, the film’s core insights into the human heart remain as true as ever. For all the dazzle of its technological speculation, “Her” understands that our most complicated relationship is with ourselves. No matter how advanced AI becomes, grappling with alienation, intimacy, and identity will remain an eternal human struggle.
In 2024, “Her” has only appreciated with age. Some of its sci-fi trappings now look quaint, and its imaginative reach exceeded its grasp in places. But its central preoccupations seem more relevant by the day. In an age where AI is increasingly woven into the fabric of our lives and inner worlds, “Her” remains an essential touchstone, even as the reality it anticipates races beyond what it foresaw.
