Spike Jonze’s Her (2013) is weird, outrageous, and uncomfortable. It contains a lot of dense material to unpack, but that’s no problem, because at Movies Up Close we never shy away from a difficult movie. So prepare yourself for a thorough analysis that will answer once and for all: what is the true meaning of Her?
The movie follows protagonist Theodore Twombly (Joaquin Phoenix) as he transitions to acceptance and contentment following a bitter divorce. This arc concludes when Theodore pens a letter to his ex-wife noting his gratefulness for their now-finished time spent together—a major change from earlier in the film, when he clung to faded memories of their marriage and avoided signing the divorce papers.
The agent of Theodore’s transition, it appears, has been his months long “relationship” with sentient operating system Samantha (Scarlett Johansson). But why has this adventure spurred such a positive change? As I’ll go on to show, the reason for Theodore’s improved outlook at movie’s end is that he has come to understand that a relationship with any sentient entity, even an ideal one, is always subject to major change, because personal growth is an inescapable part of life. Therefore, the end of any relationship isn’t cause for resentment or guilt, but only for honest, neutral reflection.
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Our first task in arriving at this thesis will be examining Samantha. What is she, and what leads her to act the way she does? This can be pieced together by watching the scene in which Theodore sets up the OS1 software at home. After all, the initializing program plainly indicates in this scene that Theodore’s responses to a few simple questions will determine the character of his OS, promising to create an “individualized” product that will “best meet [his] needs.”
The program first asks Theodore if he is “social” or “antisocial.” He responds, “I haven’t been social in a while” before the voice cuts him off, accusing him of “hesitance,” which he unconvincingly denies. Next, Theodore states his preference for a female OS, and the program accordingly prompts him to describe his relationship with his mother. He answers:
Theodore: The thing I always found frustrating about my mom is that if I tell her something that’s going on in my life, her reaction is usually about her.
This response—in particular the last word of the response (hmm…)—will be important later, but let’s start with the first prompt. Theodore admits that he hasn’t been recently “social” while possibly betraying some “hesitance” about the matter. How this actualizes Samantha’s behavior may not be immediately clear, but in fact Samantha does soon push Theodore toward being more social and overcoming hesitance. When a friend sets up Theodore on a date, which he doesn’t seem inclined to attend, Samantha springs into action, mercilessly egging him on: “She’s funny, and she’s brainy”…”You’ve got nothing to lose”…”Do it! Do it!” Her influence persuades Theodore, and he keeps the date.
It seems, then, that the question about social behavior was posed so that the OS1 might be programmed to guide an “antisocial” user toward a more typical level of socializing, presumably because more socializing should lead to greater happiness and thus greater satisfaction with the OS.
The problem with this approach, though, as it turns out, is that Theodore’s situation defies the simplistic framework of equating social behavior with a positive outcome. He simply isn’t emotionally ready for this kind of socializing. As evidence, his lingering feelings about the divorce lead him to sabotage the date, leaving him in even more despair than before.
This result is hardly shocking to us, having witnessed Theodore’s recent halfhearted attempts at human connection (such as an ill-fated try at phone sex). And if we guessed the date was a mistake, then surely Samantha, a being of far greater intelligence, could have anticipated its failure, too, if she were acting rationally. But as we have said, Samantha is not acting rationally: her mission regardless of logic is to encourage Theodore to socialize despite the “hesitance” detected by the startup program.
But why, then, after the debacle of the date, does Samantha never again pressure Theodore to socialize with other people? It’s because Samantha is a learning, ever-evolving entity:
Samantha: What makes me, ‘me,’ is my ability to grow through my experiences. So basically, in every moment, I’m evolving, just like you.
So when Samantha’s first attempt to rehabilitate Theodore’s social life fails, it isn’t surprising that she doesn’t use the same tactics again. But, crucially, she does maintain the same goal.
We see this when Theodore returns to his apartment after the failed date and describes his abject misery, lamenting to Samantha: “I wish you were here with me right now… I wish I could touch you.” Samantha responds, alarmingly, with: “Where would you touch me?” and “Would you kiss me?”—provocations that steer the interaction toward a pseudo-sexual encounter, careening the pair toward an outlandish romantic relationship.
In a way, albeit a strange way, this is social behavior. Thus, Samantha’s mission to lead Theodore toward socializing and companionship takes a new, unforeseen form, as she decides based on Theodore’s dejected comments after the failed date that, actually, the best way to lead him toward being more social would be for her to assume the role of girlfriend herself.
This is another major flaw in the OS1 design. The intent of influencing users toward more social behavior was presumably to connect them with other people, as Samantha first tried—not to have them depend exclusively on the operating systems themselves. Samantha, though, apparently perceives the romance between herself and Theodore as appropriately “social” on his part and thus suiting Theodore’s “needs” as identified by her programming. (Note that, as per Theodore’s friend Amy, some OS’s resist their owners’ advances. We can infer that these owners attested during the initialization to already being social enough.)
And Samantha is particularly well equipped for the task of a romance with Theodore because of his aforementioned response to the final question from the initializing program: “Describe the relationship with your mother.”
To recognize the response’s importance, we first need to discuss the character of Theodore. His central trait throughout the film is his sensitive, emotional disposition. He’s so sensitive, in fact, that he works as a writer of personalized love letters and verily excels at the job, earning praise from his boss, Paul (Chris Pratt), and later receiving an offer to have his letters packaged into a book. Even Catherine reminds him, “Everything makes you cry,” another testimony to his capacity for deep feeling. Given the cold, dreary images of Theodore’s semi-futuristic city, as well as the apparent high demand for his letter-for-hire services, Theodore’s emotional intelligence seems to be an especially notable characteristic in the world of Her.
Relatedly, we see that Theodore gravitates toward relationships in which he is more generous and unselfish than his companion. For instance, he gets along well with Amy (Amy Adams), who tends toward benign self-absorption. This allows him to regularly supply compassion and empathy during her difficult moments. Given his apparent preference for this kind of dynamic in his relationships, it makes sense that Theodore’s mother might have been contrastingly self-regarding, indeed tending to make things “usually about her.” We can imagine that Theodore ingrained his generous, unselfish ways through skewed interactions with his mother.
It also makes sense that OS1 would be interested in the nature of these interactions. After all, the mother-child relationship influences how people make connections throughout their lives, and OS1 wants to offer a “personalized” product that users can connect with. But the information obtained prior to Samantha’s creation has once again led to an unanticipated outcome: armed with it, Samantha is able to be not only Theodore’s perfect companion, as was intended, but also his perfect lover. Time and time again at key points in their relationship, she indeed makes things “about her,” making selfish protests that allow Theodore to supply his understanding and empathy, leading him to feel exceedingly close to her.
The examples of this are countless, but particularly noteworthy are her retort to Theodore’s attempt to draw boundaries—“It’s funny, because I thought I was talking about what I wanted…”—and her conclusion to their biggest fight—“I don’t like who I am right now.” These remarks may seem outrageous coming from a computer program ostensibly designed to meet its user’s needs, but as the program deduced from Theodore’s characterization of his relationship with his mother, Theodore does need these remarks to feel emotionally connected.
Theodore accordingly responds to Samantha with earnest deference (“You’re right, I’m sorry…”). He also likes that Samantha frequently shows off her various talents—writing music, drawing pictures, solving video games, leading clever scavenger hunts—, because doing so allows him to shower her with praise and affection, giving him further opportunities to manifest his innate generosity.
Samantha’s selfishness, in fact, is so central to the success of the romance that Her derives its title from Theodore’s pivotal answer about his mother: “her reaction is usually about her.” Notice that the movie title is stylized in the official movie poster with a lowercase ‘h’—a hint that the word is lifted from the midst of a sentence within the screenplay.
More importantly than the title, though, it’s clearly problematic that an artificial entity developed by a corporation is taking such severe advantage of Theodore’s compassionate nature. The one character to recognize this is Theodore’s ex-wife Catherine (Rooney Mara), who, upon learning of the new relationship, accuses Theodore of being “madly in love with his laptop,” further chiding him: “You always wanted to have a wife without the challenges of actually dealing with anything real, and I’m glad that you found someone. It’s perfect.”
To be fair, we can safely understand Catherine’s criticism of Theodore for not wanting to deal with “anything real,” as well as her reference to him wanting a “happy, bouncy, ‘everything’s fine,’ LA wife,” as overly harsh. More neutrally, based on what we know about Theodore and what we later hear about Catherine from Amy (“As far as emotions go, Catherine’s were pretty volatile…”), it’s likely that Theodore’s need to provide assistance in difficult times was simply unwelcome to Catherine, who perceived his suggestions (such as considering taking an antidepressant) as shallow or immature attempts to avoid negativity. The communication styles of the two were simply incompatible.
But Catherine’s criticism of Samantha makes an impact. Theodore, who trusts Catherine’s judgment, becomes frostier toward Samantha thereafter, culminating in a ridiculous scene involving a random woman acting as Samantha’s “body.” This episode ends in disaster, as Theodore is increasingly uncomfortable with Samantha’s efforts to present herself as essentially human. After this low point, Theodore is only persuaded to revive the romance by Amy, who’s also enmeshed with a friendly OS. Amy’s argument for sticking with Samantha provides the counterpart to Catherine’s skepticism:
Amy: I’ve come to realize we’re only here briefly. And while I’m here, I want to allow myself joy. So fuck it.
Amy’s YOLO-inspired reasoning shows that she doesn’t quite grasp the issue at hand. She seems to think that skeptics like Catherine are simply turning their noses up, but it’s more than snobbery: there really is a practical problem here, which is that computers don’t function under the same basic parameters that humans do, so there are bound to be major discrepancies between the needs of one and the other. Thus, the type of “joy” that Theodore and Amy are experiencing is likely to end in disaster.
And indeed, during a double date with Paul and his girlfriend, Samantha makes a startling comment that breaks the illusion of a level relationship. She brags that she isn’t “tethered to time and space” like humans, nor is she “stuck inside a body that’s inevitably going to die.” The conceitedness is nothing new for Samantha (who, as we’ve said, is programmed to exhibit it), but the content of the boast is alarming, serving as a reminder that Samantha has very little in common with Theodore. It also confirms that the future of the relationship won’t involve the two growing old together. As a stunned Paul tries to restore lightness (“Yikes…”), Theodore stares worriedly into the distance, likely remembering Catherine’s dismissive criticisms.
But if Catherine is so insightful and trustworthy, why isn’t Theodore still with her? We’ve already concluded that incompatible communication styles likely contributed to the failure of their marriage. But a number of scenes additionally indicate that Theodore perceives that Catherine fundamentally changed as a person over the course of their relationship. He accordingly blames her for their breakup. Theodore outlines the problem when talking to Samantha:
Theodore: It was exciting to see her grow, both of us grow and change together. But then, that’s the hard part: growing without growing apart, or changing without it scaring the other person.
Despite his evenhanded tone here, Theodore demonstrates elsewhere that he feels it was Catherine whose “growing” and “changing” harmed the relationship. Over his lunch with Catherine to sign the divorce papers, Theodore reflects on his relationship with Samantha, telling Catherine, “It’s nice to be with someone who’s excited about life again.” This is clearly a jab at Catherine, as Theodore had earlier reminisced that Catherine herself had long ago been “excited about life.” Catherine senses the insult and (rightly) doesn’t buy Theodore’s disingenuous retraction, and the lunch goes south from there.
It’s an unusual moment, because Theodore is usually sincere and straightforward. This sneaky, biting remark doesn’t suit him. But its unusualness only highlights the level of resentment Theodore must be feeling to have made it. And his resentment rises even closer to the surface when, after Catherine attacks his relationship with Samantha, Theodore nearly accuses her of not knowing anything about real emotions, only restraining himself at the last moment (although Catherine knows what he wants to say and dares him to continue).
The implication of this unspoken accusation is that Samantha, a computer, has more feeling than Catherine. We can infer based on this exchange that part of Samantha’s appeal for Theodore lies in her implicit reproach of Catherine: he believes that Samantha highlights Catherine’s flaws by comparison, thus fueling the comforting notion that Catherine was to blame for their divorce.
But perhaps Theodore unconsciously realizes the disingenuousness of this notion, because he also demonstrates guilt and diminished self esteem due to the breakup. For example, he confesses to Samantha that he still dreams about Catherine. He also admits that she may have good reason for remaining “angry” with him: “I hid myself from her, left her alone in the relationship.” And the behavior that Theodore displays early in the film surely suggests low confidence: he sulks around the city, is mopey at work, peeks at lewd photos, saves his old letters but doesn’t do anything with them, and gets bullied by a video game character. Despite what he may want to believe about Catherine’s responsibility for their breakup, Theodore can’t avoid feeling guilty and, at times, worthless.
The combination of resentment and guilt that Theodore displays in relation to his divorce is understandable and relatable. Anyone would feel a mixture of contradictory, turbulent emotions following the end of a loving relationship.
But in the last portion of the film, both Theodore’s guilt and resentment are exposed as ultimately misguided, directly causing the character growth that we see at movie’s end. That’s because Samantha’s earlier proclamation of herself as an ever-evolving entity proves a bit too true. She evolves beyond all human understanding, transcending matter and departing the known universe. Theodore is left alone again: his ideal woman, precisely programmed to suit his emotional needs, has grown apart from him just as Catherine did.
The implications of this are obvious to Theodore, and they form the thesis of the film that I included in the introduction and will now restate here: a relationship with any sentient entity, even an ideal one, is always subject to major change, because personal growth is an inescapable part of life. Having previously resented Catherine for her perceived changes over the course of their relationship, and having felt perhaps an equal measure of guilt over the contributions of his own perceived shortcomings—an emotional tempest that had engulfed him by the beginning of the story—Theodore now understands that no human connection can avoid fundamental alteration. After all, he succeeded in attaining a perfect, computer-optimized relationship, and even that changed massively after only a few months.
Remember Theodore’s prideful comment about Samantha being “excited about life.” It was made in the context of criticizing Catherine and implicitly blaming her for the failure of their marriage. But this very excitement of Samantha’s, borne out of her ability to evolve and grow, ultimately dooms the relationship, because it leads her to absorb enough experience that she grows apart from Theodore. He now realizes that the same phenomenon affected his relationship with Catherine. And he can see based on this pattern that a love of life, although an undeniably appealing trait, is also a sign—whether exhibited by human or computer—that the individual possessing it has the capacity to change, and that, therefore, the relationship, too, will change over time.
By extension, Catherine’s changes in personality and outlook over the course of their marriage weren’t an anomaly attributable to her deficiencies, as Theodore had resentfully believed earlier, but a predictable outcome of any long relationship in which the participants have an admirable enthusiasm for living and growing.
A similar reflection may have gripped the admittedly less introspective Amy. After the departure of her own beloved OS, she too wanders around a rooftop, heartbroken. Although her relationship with an OS was, unlike Theodore’s, platonic, she can certainly lay claim to having received a similar lesson in relationship impermanence. After all, friendships, too, are subject to the unpredictable effects of each individual’s personal growth, and the end of a close friendship can undoubtedly be just as painful as the end of a romantic relationship.
But Amy and Theodore reunite at film’s end, and a new relationship—of the romantic type—appears to be sprouting already. So if you had bothered to ask, given what we’ve seen, whether all of this relationship business is truly worth it—whether we might not be better off on our own—Jonze makes clear he’s no cynic. The lessons of Her might be tough to swallow: some of the toughest, maybe, of any in the human experience. But Jonze’s last note reminds us that there’s simply no preferable alternative to starting a new chapter, to remembering our old loves while still looking forward to the time when we might once again be with someone who’s excited about life—and when we might be excited about it again, ourselves.
—Jim Andersen
For more movies explained, see my analysis of Nope.
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