Klara and the Sun (2026) Review!!

Synopsis – A robot girl designed to prevent loneliness tries to save a heartbroken family of humans.

My Take – The conversation around AI has rarely been more contentious, making this an awkward moment to release a film about a lovable robot yearning for a meaningful connection with its human owner. Even with one of Hollywood’s most popular young stars in the lead, it asks audiences to empathize with artificial intelligence at a time when many are questioning its role in everyday life, and perhaps the last thing people want to hear right now is that AI has feelings too.

That premise forms the basis of director Taika Waititi’s latest film, arriving after the commercial disappointments of Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) and Next Goal Wins (2023). Like so many dramas in recent years, it ultimately circles back to grief, a theme that, while undeniably universal and emotionally resonant, has become increasingly overused. At its best, stories about loss can evoke genuine reflection and painful memories of loved ones gone. At their worst, they can feel emotionally manipulative, and unfortunately, this film often falls into the latter category.

Adapted from Kazuo Ishiguro’s 2021 Booker Prize-winning novel, the story has far more to say about humanity than it does about artificial intelligence. Yet while Ishiguro’s source material offers thoughtful ideas, Waititi and co-writer Dahvi Waller struggle to translate them into a cohesive cinematic experience.

Framed in a whimsical, Edward Scissorhands-like aesthetic, complete with retro-inspired design, nostalgic music cues and a gentle tone, the film leans so heavily into sentimentality that its emotional beats begin to feel manufactured rather than moving. Despite flashes of director Waititi’s trademark humor, the film remains surprisingly passive, with isolated moments of charm unable to overcome its lack of narrative momentum.

Sure, there is genuine appeal in watching Jenna Ortega’s Klara attempt to understand human behavior and find her place in the world, but the screenplay never successfully reconciles its quirky comedy with its somber reflections on grief. The result is a film caught between competing identities, unable to decide whether it wants to be a heartfelt coming-of-age fable, a sci-fi satire, or an emotional drama.

More frustrating still is the film’s reluctance to engage with contemporary anxieties surrounding artificial intelligence. At a moment when discussions about AI often center on its ethical and societal risks, the screenplay approaches its robotic characters with almost no skepticism, asking viewers to accept them as emotionally and morally equivalent to humans without ever seriously interrogating the implications.

Set in a post-World War III world where the internet has long since disappeared, the story follows Klara (Jenna Ortega), an Artificial Friend, or “AF,” designed to provide companionship. An outdated B1 model, two generations behind the newer and more compliant B3 units, Klara belongs to a line discontinued for being deemed too human, too empathetic. While waiting at The Friend Store to be chosen, she spends her days gazing at the Sun, which she reveres almost as a deity, believing it to be the source of all life.

With the threat of being returned to the factory and dismantled for parts hanging over her, Klara clings to the hope that someone will take her home. That chance arrives when teenager Josie (Mia Tharia) notices her in a shop window and convinces her single mother, Chrissie (Amy Adams), to purchase the ageing companion robot. Delighted to finally fulfil her purpose, yet anxious about being returned before the 30-day trial period expires, Klara settles into her new home: a sprawling estate surrounded by rolling wheat fields and overseen by the stern but caring housekeeper Melania (Rachel House).

It is there that she discovers a family quietly unraveling. Josie is mourning the loss of an older sister, a tragedy that fractured the family and drove her father away. Meanwhile, Chrissie’s decision to have her daughter “Lifted”, a controversial genetic enhancement procedure embraced by affluent families to create intellectual prodigies, has left Josie’s health in steady and potentially fatal decline.

At first glance, the premise plays like a children’s fable, following a childlike robot navigating a world that is both beautiful and cruel. Yet at a time when concerns about AI are increasingly widespread, the film feels oddly dated, presenting Klara as a saintly companion whose sole purpose is to care for and protect her human owner. Like The Bicentennial Man (1999), A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (2001) and After Yang (2021), it explores artificial companionship, but Klara’s innocence pushes the story closer to fairy tale than philosophical science fiction.

Here, director Taika Waititi reinforces that tone through a setting that resembles a futuristic Oz, all wheat fields, idyllic landscapes and storybook imagery, even as hints of a post-war dystopia lurk beneath the surface. This contrast is apparent from the opening scenes, where the Artificial Friends behave like sheltered children, only for the film to abruptly introduce questions of mortality, purpose and love. The result is often jarring, with its ideas feeling explained rather than explored. As the story darkens to include themes of illness, death and loss, the screenplay repeatedly brushes against profound ideas about grief, identity and artificial consciousness without fully committing to them.

The film’s greatest weakness is its inability to balance whimsy with darkness, retreating whenever its themes threaten to become genuinely challenging. There are scattered laughs and intriguing ideas throughout, while cinematographer Mike Berlucchi bathes the film in dreamlike golden light and Michael Giacchino’s score provides the right amount of eccentric sentimentality. Unfortunately, neither can compensate for a film that never quite figures out what it wants to say about humanity or artificial intelligence.

Performance-wise, Jenna Ortega is excellent as Klara, balancing childlike wonder with the growing realization that the world is not as simple as she believes. Amy Adams brings quiet complexity to Chrissie, while Mia Tharia impresses as the strong-willed yet vulnerable Josie. Together, they elevate material that does not always support them.

The supporting cast is equally solid, with Aran Murphy, Natasha Lyonne, Steve Buscemi and Rachel House all making memorable contributions despite limited screen time. On the whole, ‘Klara and the Sun‘ is an uneven and emotionally hollow adaptation whose tonal inconsistencies undermine its thoughtful ambitions.