Jenna Ortega's New Sci-Fi Movie Turns Compelling AI Drama Into One Big Joke

Jenna Ortega and Amy Adams star in this futuristic AI tale

Klara and the Sun transforms compelling AI drama into one big joke

Maybe it’s a sign of a more jaded world or a less capable film, but with Klara and the Sun, I found myself wishing for restraint. Don’t make the obvious joke; don’t encourage another weird face-off between actors. A dramatic scene depicting a robot’s devotion to humanity would land better if we could sit with it without a giggle break. But no such luck.

Klara and the Sun has plenty of drama and heartbreak, and almost every moment is intercut with a juvenile joke that reassures us it’s not that serious, even if, per the film’s own subject matter, it should be. I left the theater teary-eyed and annoyed, kind of moved by a film that never stopped getting in its own way.

Waiting to be chosen

Based on the novel by Nobel Prize winner Kazuo Ishiguro, the film follows Klara (Jenna Ortega), an Artificial Friend (AF). The story takes place in a near-future dystopia, a polluted and overpopulated world where kids undergo medical procedures to become smarter, and humans have built AI robots to keep them company.

Klara lives in a bot shop with the shopkeeper (Natasha Lyonne) and other AFs, all anxiously waiting for someone to buy them. The bots recharge with the sun and spend their days modeling in the shop window, enticing possible buyers. They pretend to shop or ski, living mannequins with an innocent approach to the world. If purchased, the bots will avoid the worst fate they can think of: being scrapped for parts and retooled into the next generation of tech. Their dream is to fulfill their purpose of companionship and retire to the Yard, the place where obsolete robots can relax and be happy.

One day, Josie (Mia Tharia) spots Klara in the shop window and is charmed. The two look at each other and click. She ends up taking Klara home despite the reluctance of her mother, Chrissie (Amy Adams), who was hoping to get her daughter a newer model that could do more tasks.

From there, the film is a coming-of-age story, with Klara adapting to her new home, a remote farmhouse in a striking yellow field of wheat. She tries to make a good impression on Chrissie and Melania (Rachel House), the housekeeper, with both periodically threatening to put Klara back in her box and return her to the shop.

Laugh, cry, repeat

It’s a compelling story, especially for viewers interested in non-human characters — Pinocchio, David from Spielberg’s A.I. — who function as blank canvases for our feelings. Klara could’ve been a memorable entry in the canon. She has the makings of one. She’s a little off. While observant and cheery, she’s also prone to standing on one leg like a flamingo when distracted. She’s riddled with glitches, moments that knock her out and leave her rebooting whenever she’s exposed to new surroundings or gets too stressed. The camera takes over her POV and shows us Klara trying to take everything in, her eyesight becoming grid-like and fractured, zooming in and out. It’s one of the movie’s most inspired flourishes.

The character type is a nice change of pace for Ortega, allowing her out of the Wednesday register we’ve grown so used to. Klara is a great mimic, capable of echoing others’ voices, like Chrissie’s and Josie’s, with Ortega embodying their mannerisms and expressions. But Ortega can’t work miracles, and the script saddles her with unfunny jokes and a childishness that grows exhausting very quickly.

The jokes are largely responsible for the film’s biggest problem: the tonal jumps. I can’t say Klara and the Sun has the most egregious use of Waititi’s specific brand of comedy (there’s no goofy Hitler as an imaginary best friend here), but it might be his most uninspired. When Klara arrives at the farmhouse, our main concern seems to be her inability to use the stairs; a few moments later, we’re in the midst of a saccharine family drama about mortality. The scenes can be moving, and the jokes can land at times, but as a whole, the film finds no rhythm.

A dystopia where AIs are subservient and kids can get medical procedures to become smarter is thought-provoking stuff, but the script doesn’t mine that. It has another joke to get to. Its character exploration ends with Klara’s quirkiness, a Manic Pixie Dream Robot to the humans in the story, teaching them valuable lessons on empathy, grief, and living in the moment. Surely, in 2026, we have more thoughtful things to say about AI and human connection than clichés and a robot who can’t use the stairs.

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Klara and the Sun is now playing in theaters.