Klara and the Sun Review: Waititi's Soulful Sci-Fi Gamble

Klara is an Artificial Friend - a solar-powered synthetic companion sold to wealthy families to keep their children company. From the store window where she watches the sun and the passersby with innocent wonder, she's chosen by Josie, a bright but seriously ill teenager whose mother Chrissie is quietly unraveling under the strain of grief and fear. What follows is Klara's slow, devoted integration into the household, her bond with Josie deepening as the girl's health declines. The film treats Klara's faith in the sun - her near-religious conviction that its light can heal - with total sincerity, and that sincerity is both the movie's greatest strength and its occasional undoing.

Let's start with Ortega, because Klara and the Sun lives or dies on her performance and she delivers something genuinely unusual. There's no attempt here to play robotic or uncanny; instead she plays Klara as radically open, a being whose innocence reads as almost holy. The wide eyes, the careful cadence, the way she absorbs the world - it's a performance of tremendous restraint, and it anchors the film's most vulnerable moments.

Waititi surrounds her with a strong ensemble. Mia Tharia brings real fragility to Josie without ever making her a saint, while Amy Adams does layered, brittle work as a mother making impossible calculations. Natasha Lyonne is a smart bit of casting as the store's Manager, and Steve Buscemi's brief appearance is a welcome jolt. Aran Murphy's Rick and Davida McKenzie's Simone round out a cast that mostly resists melodrama.

The craft is top-shelf. The cinematography makes the sun feel like a character - the film is obsessed with light, with the way it falls through windows and across faces, and the visual grammar sells Klara's worldview beautifully. The production design is sleek without being sterile, and the score stays tastefully in the background.

Where the film stumbles is pacing and tone. Waititi's instinct for warmth sometimes collides with Ishiguro's inherent coldness, and the result is a movie that can't quite decide how much it wants us to cry. The middle act drags, and a few of the narrative turns feel rushed rather than earned - ideas about love, replacement, and what makes a person are raised with real intelligence but not always resolved with the same care. At 116 minutes, it should feel tighter than it does.

Still, when Klara and the Sun connects, it truly connects. There's a moment - no spoilers - involving Klara and the sunset that lands with quiet devastation, and it reminds you why this material has haunted readers for years.

Pros

• Jenna Ortega's career-best work - an innocent, deeply felt lead performance
• Gorgeous, light-obsessed cinematography that turns the sun into a genuine character
• A stellar supporting cast, particularly Amy Adams and Mia Tharia
• Treats its philosophical questions with sincerity rather than cynicism

Cons

• Uneven pacing, especially through a sluggish middle act
• Some narrative developments feel rushed and under-resolved
• The tone wobbles between Waititi's warmth and Ishiguro's sorrow
• Emotional beats occasionally tip into manipulation

Klara and the Sun is not the definitive Ishiguro adaptation some hoped for, but it's a thoughtful, beautifully acted film with a performance from Ortega that deserves to be seen. Fans of the novel may bristle at its softer edges; newcomers may find themselves unexpectedly moved. It's imperfect, uneven, and occasionally profound - which, honestly, is a fair description of most things worth watching. A cautious recommendation, best experienced with patience and an open heart.