Unless you're a geek freak and need vicarious and phone sex.
(Would that be all of us? Never mind.
Throw in the nude de rigueur females, please. Done.
Where are the nude males? Never mind. They don't sell as well.)
I thought it would never end. Cut a third, and the movie would be lots better.
Speaking of thirds, the F-bomb makes up about a third of the script.
All right, all ready: Call it an "arty film." That still doesn't make it any better. Yep, the critics adore it, but they are the critics' critics. I am the people's critic, and folks, this one is pretty sad in more ways than one.
I'll bet you didn't know technology is taking over and supplanting human interaction, communication, and observation, and Her takes it to the extreme in a funny, original way: Man falls in love with a voice on the computer which the critics say is possible Oscar material...a voice! Not only are machines replacing humans, but this may be a first for Oscar: no appearance necessary or need to worry about population growth.
Whatever, this does not warrant your dollars or time. I wish I had read this before I wasted mine. And this goes for a rental, too.
The only redeeming social qualifies she's got:
1. Originality (Spike Jonze is writer, director, producer)
What does that tell you? Right. It's not a chick flick, but a trick flick Joe show. And the clothes prove it. No dashes of flash, but (a costumer's prediction for the future) the guys all wear sansabelts and Hush Puppies. Such turn-ons. (But what more do we need with Joaquin as the star?) I can't wait.
You can find better sex on YouTube.
And that's all she wrote. I am dropping off quickly: Her sedatives work fast.
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