Old School. Biblically Independent.
By Mae Abdulbaki | Film | October 27, 2026
When it comes to movie adaptations of books, there will always be a desire to compare them. Was the book better? What changes were made? Which characters and moments got left out? In the end, the mediums are so different, and it’s not always easy to translate something from page to screen. To preface this, I haven’t read Klara and the Sun, so I can only discuss the movie itself, which stars Jenna Ortega as the titular Klara, a solar-powered “artificial friend” with an attachment to the sun and who is purchased by Chrissie (Amy Adams) for her daughter, Josie (Mia Tharia).
Taika Waititi’s movies always have a sense of humor, even when it doesn’t work. In Klara and the Sun, which was adapted from the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, the director’s sense of quirkiness almost threatens to undermine the story’s darkness, which can be disconcerting and steeped in sadness. Klara is naive and wholesome, forming a special bond with Josie, who has fallen ill after being “lifted,” a procedure that reengineers her brain for academic enhancement. Klara learns a lot from being in Josie’s world, and her naivete is a stark contrast to the real-world repercussions of Chrissie’s actions.
Chrissie comes off as somewhat of a villain at first, and Adams walks a fine line between playing a strict, emotionally disconnected mother and a grief-stricken one who’s trying to stave off more loss after the death of her oldest daughter. Layered throughout the film are themes regarding intelligence and the alienation of those who are perceived as less than—which is underscored via Josie’s best friend Rick (Aran Murphy), who is not lifted and ridiculed for it by others—death and grief, and the replication of someone via artificial intelligence.
Each of these plays a crucial role in Klara’s understanding of the world. To her, the sun is a god she prays to for help, but while it can be argued that the film is trying to say something about religion, it’s really more about the acceptance of grief. Chrissie anticipates death so much that she isn’t present with her daughter, choosing instead to bury her feelings in her work and disdain with Klara. This juxtaposition works for a while, but the ending feels rushed in that regard. It opts for a quick ending and the big reveal right before that isn’t given its due.
Klara’s hatred and fear of Cootings, machines that are self-operating and block the sun because of their air pollution, doesn’t entirely work, either. The anger she has towards the machines, while understandable, comes off as silly when compared to everything else going on in the film. What’s more, Waititi isn’t able to fully integrate the moments of eccentric humor with the more serious elements. For example, Klara throws up an endless of stream of water after Chrissie attempts to drown her (even though she can’t die that way) and it’s played for laughs, which undermines the cruelty of Chrissie’s actions.
But for all its tonal hiccups, Klara and the Sun can be simultaneously devastating and heartwarming. Its ending is vague enough to leave a lasting impression of hope while also being obvious about what happens. Either way, it works and highlights Klara’s lessons on love, loss, and acceptance. For someone who initially doesn’t understand the world and human complexity, Klara’s sense of self, friendship with Josie, and her relationship with the world—primarily the sun, of course—evolves. It can be a beautiful and harrowing journey that is made bittersweet by the cast’s performances.
Ortega is genuinely great as Klara, mixing a sense of wonder and wide-eyed innocence with the painful realization that nothing is as she thought it was. Adams plays Chrissie with an aloofness without making her an unsympathetic character, and Tharia is wonderful as Josie, who is headstrong and stubborn yet vulnerable. They make scenes work that may not have otherwise.
The film requires a delicate balance that Waititi struggles to maintain. It seems wary of delving too deeply into the richness of its themes, and it’s most comfortable at the precipice of darkness, the light never far behind. Waititi’s handling of the story is a lot like Klara’s own relationship with the sun. She’d rather it shine bright and, when it goes away, doesn’t quite know what to do.
Klara and the Sun is now playing in theaters.
