Bold, well-acted 'Her' poses questions on nature of love

How essential are physical and emotional connections when falling in love? What would you miss - looking into someone's eyes, caressing them, tasting them? In "Her," Spike Jonze's futuristic exploration of a man's relationship with his computer, the filmmaker surveys human disjunction.

Joaquin Phoenix is Theodore, a loner struggling to cope with his unwanted divorce from neuroscientist Catherine (a comely, sullen Rooney Mara). After seeing an ad for an artificial intelligence operating system, Theodore purchases one and finds his new OS is voiced by a dame with a sultry, whiskey-stained tone named Samantha (a witty Scarlett Johansson, who is never seen on-camera).

Samantha is at Theodore's beck and call. Communicating by way of an earpiece and a small hand-held device, she keeps him on schedule and encourages him to get back out there and go on a blind date. "I'm not in a place where I can commit right now" becomes one of Theodore's signature lines, even as he becomes smitten with Samantha.

But eventually Theodore and Samantha, who is eager to please and has the ability to grow through her experiences, fall for each other. Jonze effectively manages to capture real intimacy as the couple greet each other in the morning and say goodnight when the day is done. Theodore takes Samantha on a double date with his co-worker, Paul (played by the ever-hilarious Chris Pratt), and Samantha composes piano melodies to emphasize their experiences.

Jonze has become known for creating bewildering worlds, but "Her" is the first feature film he's penned solo and he's never been so ingenious.

In a dark theater, surrounded by the wondrous world Jonze creates in "Her," it's difficult to avoid getting emotional. There is such a somber and supple tone throughout, as Theodore (faultlessly performed by a pensive and vulnerable Phoenix) surrenders to his desperation.

Visually Jonze has built a bold dreamland: a near-future Los Angeles awash with primary colors and warm pastels that tickle our childlike senses. Every fella dons high-waisted pants, a fashion choice emphasizing the sign of the times.

Amy Adams delivers a delicate portrayal of Theodore's lovelorn neighbor and best friend, Amy. She supports his decision to date his OS, but thinks anybody who falls in love is a freak.

But Theodore's ex-wife thinks his latest turn at love is crazy. "You always wanted to have a wife without actually dealing with anything real," she tells him. Thus, the lingering questions are brought to the forefront: To what lengths would we go to avoid certain truths? Could virtual affairs be the inevitable evolution of relationships? The notion of unconventional romanticism is certainly enchanting, but even computer love can be fleeting.