Him

HER (B+) - It's no secret that we here have our relationship issues. Let's talk about the one between me and Joaquin Phoenix.

There's one big problem with Spike Jonze's brilliantly conceived relationship drama about a man and the artificial-intelligence system he falls for:  the man is played by Joaquin Phoenix. I don't like him, never have, and I can't stand to watch him for two hours straight. Feel free to readjust the above grade for the film up or down depending on your tolerance of the leading man.

Not that subbing in a better actor (let's see, maybe Michael Cera or Paul Giamatti or Mark Duplass) would have made this a perfect film. It's too long and it drags in the middle; Jonze then tries to stuff all of his big ideas into the final reel. On the other hand, this is, at times, a powerful polemic against monogamy and a thoughtful reminder of the impossibility of finding another person that can make you whole. But I think I would have liked this better if it had been a novel rather than a complicated, compromised production by a former music-video auteur now fingering the fringes of Hollywood.

Phoenix portrays a worker-bee shlub named Theodore Twombly living in futuristic Los Angeles, where computer technology has made incredible advances while most everything else seems about the same, especially the fashions (men's trousers, in fact, have regressed to high-waisted sans-a-belts, giving the men a neutered look). Everyone walks around with a small device in their ears, and operating systems are so sophisticated that they now come with human-like personalities that hold running conversations with their operators.

Theodore's OS is named Samantha, and she's voiced by Scarlett Johansson, who is perfectly bright and kittenish. Theodore is finalizing his divorce from Catherine (a flat Rooney Mara) and struggling to reconcile his lingering feelings and haunting memories. Samantha, though, not only keeps him company, but also makes him feel alive again. In addition to being a cool girlfriend, Samantha possesses both maternal and god-like qualities.

Jonze makes everything a little too neat. Theodore's job is writing old-fashioned letters (printed in handwriting script to look authentic) on behalf of folks reaching out to friends and lovers. In other words, he is a whiz at creating artificial sentiments and advancing the relationships of others, but he can't get his own life in order. And he manages to connect with an all-knowing being who has been created to cater to his every need and desire, but he can't make that connection with the flesh and blood around him -- including his soon-to-be ex-wife; a disastrous blind date (Olivia Wilde) who calls him a creep; and his sweet pal Amy (the always delightful Amy Adams, seeming a tad lost here). And what of Samantha? How long is an ordinary human being going to be able to keep her engine humming? (I've dated my share of super-smart women and found it quite challenging; I can't imagine going with a gal who can read an encyclopedia and master quantum physics in the blink of an eye -- not to mention one who has unfettered access to my hard drive and my brain. How would I even begin to figure out how to please her or hold up my end of the conversation? And what's that you say -- she doesn't have a body? ... Well, then, I just give up.)

Jonze does have great ideas here -- he creates a foul-mouthed little blob who infiltrates Theodore's virtual-reality video game; he tosses in a great gag involving Alan Watts; and he creates another fun video game involving Mom duties. At one point Samantha, yearning to experience a physical presence, hires a woman to stand in her place and seduce Theodore while Samantha whispers in their ears and watches via the woman's cute mole-cam. Meantime, Jonze is earnest as hell, presenting all of this with his heart on his sleeve and a gleam in his eye.

About three-quarters of the way through, with your patience being tested, you might start wondering why this couldn't be as magical as "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," from Michel Gondry and Jonze's pal Charlie Kaufman. (Then again, you may have your own issues with watching Jim Carrey for two hours.) Phoenix just doesn't have what it takes to pull off something so sweet and nuanced. He's doing that bizarro character he does -- similar to the freak who helped ruin P.T. Anderson's "The Master" -- but with his Groucho glasses and mustache he doesn't have much more depth than Johnny Galecki's nerdy Leonard on "The Big Bang Theory."

And, really, as much as Jonze pours every fiber of his being into this obvious labor of love, what ends up on the screen is a rather ordinary, old-fashioned love story, involving a self-centered guy who needs a monumental wake-up call in order to realize his failure to truly connect with women. Maybe that's his clever point. In many ways, I loved this movie, and it's worth seeing.

Unfortunately, in the end, the guys -- Jonze and Phoenix -- disappointed me. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't deliver when I needed them to. They proved human and fallible. They portray themselves as whiny victims of strong or angry women.

What's to become of us?

BONUS TRACK
Early in the film -- which is filled with beautiful music, much of it by Arcade Fire -- we get an edited version of Kim Deal's epic love song, "Off You" by the Breeders. Few songs can match this perfect couplet: "I am the autumn in the scarlet; I am the makeup on your eyes." Enjoy: