Klara and the Sun review: Waititi's Ishiguro adaptation is a sentimental mess

Taika Waititi's adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun "winds up saying nothing substantial or meaningful (or funny) about artificial intelligence, love or grief." That verdict comes from our review of the film, which the director of Hunt for the Wilderpeople and Thor: Ragnarok also wrote.

The film, released 15 October, is set in a near-future where families buy "artificial friend" (AF) robots — humanoid companions marketed for children. Klara is one of them. Ishiguro's 2021 novel used that premise to probe love and mortality. Waititi, judging by the review, doesn't.

Instead, the critic writes, the film offers "an explosion of postmodern quirkiness and ironic dorkiness" — an "unbearably mannered, unspeakably acted" affair the review calls "soft-centred sci-fi-lite." It asks viewers to laugh at unfunny gags and, in the same breath, wipe away tears at what the critic dismisses as "pass-agg poignancy."

Where does the film go wrong?

The review's core complaint is tonal. Waititi has proved he can do comedy — Hunt for the Wilderpeople and Thor: Ragnarok made that case. But here, the critic argues, he lands closer to his "fey-Hitler fantasy" Jojo Rabbit: "misjudged and self-admiring."

The adjective stack is withering: "twee, tiresome," "unbearably mannered," "sentimental whimsy-futurism and non-satire." Each points at the same mechanism. The film gestures at big themes — AI, love, grief — without committing to a position on any of them. Whimsy substitutes for argument.

Even the world-building draws fire. In one scene, an AF salesperson played by Natasha Lyonne explains that a recent third world war has wiped out the internet — though the critic notes this post-war world "looks in pretty good shape apart from that." The AFs run on a purple fluid called PEC-9, which one character mentions is "highly flammable." The review's dry aside: "Uh-oh. Quite the design fault."

What does this change for Ishiguro on screen?

Ishiguro's novels have a strong cinematic track record — The Remains of the Day, Never Let Me Go — precisely because their restraint translates into visual discipline. This review suggests the opposite route: maximal quirk applied to a book built on quiet. For studios weighing future literary sci-fi adaptations, it's a caution that an auteur's sensibility and a novel's temperament can work against each other rather than fuse.

For Waititi, the verdict is blunt: this is a director repeating the Jojo Rabbit formula of ironic sincerity without the earlier films' comic engine. The review leaves little doubt the film squanders both its source and its star premise — an AI built to love, in a world that may not deserve it.