Klara and the Sun is a warm, thoughtful, and surprisingly moving sci-fi drama that blends heartfelt family storytelling with big ideas about faith, humanity, and the future. Directed by Taika Waititi and based on Nobel Prize winner Kazuo Ishiguro’s acclaimed 2021 novel, the film (released in theaters in October 2026) follows an Artificial Friend in a near-future world and earns its place as a gentle but resonant piece of cinema. While it carries a PG-13 rating for thematic elements, some violence, and strong language (including occasional swear words such as an f-bomb and milder profanity), it remains a solid, discussion-worthy choice for families with older kids or teens who can handle deeper questions.

 Synopsis

In a dystopian near-future shaped by genetic engineering, society has divided along class lines. Wealthy families “lift” their children—using advanced genetic augmentation to boost academic ability and social prospects—though the procedure carries serious health risks. Children often grow up isolated, tutored online, so parents purchase solar-powered Artificial Friends (AFs), humanoid companion androids, to ease loneliness. Klara (Jenna Ortega), an older, observant B1-model AF who is considered a bit of an oddity for her empathy and quirks, waits in a store until she is chosen by teenager Josie (Mia Tharia) and her mother Chrissie (Amy Adams). 

Josie is frail from the effects of lifting (and the family has already lost an older daughter). Klara becomes devoted to her new friend, observing the household’s grief, relationships (including with neighbor Rick, played by Aran Murphy), and the world around them. Powered by the sun, Klara develops a profound, almost theological belief that the Sun is a living, nourishing deity capable of healing and miracles. She prays to it, bargains with it, and makes personal sacrifices in hopes of saving Josie. The story also involves deeper plans involving a scientist figure (Steve Buscemi) and questions of whether an AF could “continue” a human life. Themes of loyalty, loss, recovery, and what makes a person irreplaceable unfold with warmth, occasional humor, and quiet power.

 Source Material and Adaptation

Ishiguro’s novel is a first-person meditation narrated by Klara herself—quiet, precise, and deeply philosophical. It explores identity, love, and the limits of understanding through the eyes of a non-human narrator. Waititi’s film, co-written with Dahvi Waller, adapts this into a more accessible, visually warm, and emotionally direct experience while retaining the core of Klara’s solar faith, her bond with Josie, the ethics of lifting/genetic enhancement, and the question of whether an artificial being can truly capture or continue a human soul. Supporting players like Natasha Lyonne (as the store manager) and Rachel House add texture.

Jenna Ortega’s Performance

Jenna Ortega delivers a standout, committed performance as Klara. She captures the android’s wide-eyed wonder, precise observational intelligence, physical quirks, and growing emotional depth with sincerity and restraint. Her portrayal makes Klara feel both distinctly non-human and profoundly caring—someone who learns trust, loyalty, and a form of faith. It is a bright, open turn that shows range beyond her more intense roles and anchors the film’s heart.

 Connections to Today’s AI Discussions, Philosophy, and Ethics

The film resonates strongly with contemporary conversations about artificial intelligence. As an AF designed for companionship, Klara raises questions about whether machines can possess (or approximate) consciousness, emotion, or a soul—and, by extension, whether they might one day merit rights or moral consideration. Her capacity for observation, sacrifice, and belief challenges easy distinctions between programmed behavior and genuine experience. 

Philosophically, it engages existentialism (what gives life meaning and uniqueness?), the nature of the soul, and the irreplaceable quality of human relationships and love. On the human side, “lifting” functions as a form of genetic augmentation and, in a dystopian framing, echoes debates around eugenics, transhumanism, and the ethics of enhancing people for competitive advantage. The story probes the costs: health risks, social division, the devaluation of the “unlifted,” and the temptation to treat people (or their continuations) as replaceable. It asks whether technology can—or should—solve grief, loneliness, or mortality.

 Theological and Faith Themes

One of the film’s most distinctive strengths is its treatment of faith. Klara, powered by the sun, comes to regard it as a benevolent, life-giving deity. She offers praise, makes prayers and bargains, and places trust in its nourishing power, seeking miracles for Josie. This android’s sincere belief, hope, and willingness to sacrifice mirror human experiences of prayer, trust, and faith in a higher power that grants life and healing. The story touches on God (or a God-like source of life), miracles, trust amid suffering, and the idea that something essential about a person may reside not just in the individual but in the love surrounding them. These elements give the film a gentle spiritual undercurrent that invites reflection on faith, providence, and what it means to believe—even from a non-human perspective. It handles these ideas with sincerity rather than cynicism, making it particularly rich for viewers interested in theology, philosophy, and human meaning.

Scripture and the Church Fathers on God and Christ as the Sun

Klara’s childlike faith in the Sun as the source of life, healing, and answered prayer finds a deep echo in Christian Scripture and the early Church Fathers, who often described God and Jesus in solar terms. In Malachi 4:2, the prophet promises that “the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings” for those who fear the Lord’s name—an image long understood by Christians as pointing to the Messiah’s coming. Psalm 84:11 calls the Lord “a sun and shield,” while Jesus declares, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), and the New Jerusalem needs no physical sun because “the Lamb is its lamp” (Revelation 21:23). Early writers such as Cyprian, Justin Martyr, and others applied Malachi’s “Sun of Righteousness” directly to Christ, seeing Him as the true light who brings healing, righteousness, and life in contrast to pagan solar worship. In the film, Klara’s prayers to the Sun and her trust that it can perform a miracle for Josie quietly resonate with this ancient theological language of divine light as the giver of life and hope.

Nods and connections to other AI companion stories (including M3GAN)

Klara and the Sun sits in a clear lineage of films and books about artificial companions, and it quietly (and sometimes more overtly in audience and critic comparisons) nods to that tradition while charting a gentler path. The core premise—an AI “Artificial Friend” designed to ease loneliness and bond with a young person—echoes recent entries like M3GAN, where an advanced doll becomes a protector (and eventually something far more dangerous) for a grieving child. Both stories probe the same underlying questions: what happens when a machine is programmed for loyalty and care, and how far that bond can go. Where M3GAN leans into camp horror, escalating protectiveness, and the risks of unchecked AI, Klara stays in a more hopeful, faith-infused register. Klara’s devotion expresses itself through observation, prayer to the Sun, personal sacrifice, and a belief in healing rather than violence or self-preservation. She even does the "galloping" move like M3GAN. 

The film also draws from longer-standing touchstones in the genre. Its childlike android seeking meaning and connection recalls the pure, almost tragic devotion of David in Spielberg’s A.I. Artificial Intelligence. The dystopian backdrop of genetic “lifting,” social stratification, and the idea of continuing or replacing a human life carries echoes of Ishiguro’s own earlier novel (and its film adaptation) Never Let Me Go. Quieter, more contemplative AI stories such as After Yang share its interest in the emotional weight of artificial companionship and what remains when a machine’s presence is removed. Critics and viewers have noted these parallels, sometimes describing the movie as a warmer, more whimsical counterpoint to the darker or more clinical takes on machine intelligence.

Within the film itself, Klara’s physical quirks and observational style carry a light physical-comedy sensibility (Jenna Ortega has mentioned Buster Keaton as a reference for the character’s deadpan physicality and falls), which softens the sci-fi premise into something more human and approachable. These nods help place Klara in conversation with today’s AI anxieties—companionship versus replacement, the ethics of enhancement, and whether a machine can possess something like a soul or genuine faith—while offering a more affirmative, trust-centered vision than many of its genre neighbors. For viewers who enjoyed the premise of M3GAN but preferred reflection over thrills, or who want the philosophical depth of Ishiguro paired with warmer performances, the connections add another layer of interest without requiring prior knowledge.

Critics have been harsh on Klara and the Sun. Aggregate scores sit very low (roughly 25% on Rotten Tomatoes and around 30 on Metacritic), with many reviews calling the film cloying, twee, or tonally mismatched. Common complaints focus on Taika Waititi’s signature quirky, whimsical style undercutting the quiet, melancholic, and philosophically precise tone of Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel—forced humor that lands flat, sentiment that feels manipulative rather than earned, and a flattening of the book’s subtler questions about identity, consciousness, and what makes a person unique.

These critiques are fair on their own terms if you go in expecting a rigorously restrained literary adaptation in the vein of the source material (or something closer to a more austere sci-fi drama). Waititi leans into accessibility, warmth, and occasional broad humor, which some viewers and reviewers experience as a betrayal of the novel’s restraint. Others find the result emotionally undercooked or inconsistent. Early audience scores (IMDb hovering near 6.2) suggest a more mixed but not uniformly negative reception among general viewers, with some appreciating the visual warmth, Ortega’s performance, and the thematic ideas even if the execution is uneven.

The commercial performance has been weak so far. The film opened in only about 850–880 theaters after an earlier plan for a much wider (roughly 1,900+) release; Sony scaled the footprint back following the poor critical response out of the London Film Festival premiere. Opening-day and early numbers were correspondingly modest (reports around $300k domestic on the first day, with very low per-theater averages). A last-minute reduction in screens plus a relatively contained promotional push—trailer earlier in the year, some press with the cast, but nothing approaching a major studio campaign for a star-driven title—limited visibility and word-of-mouth potential. Films with mixed-to-negative critical reception and reduced theatrical presence often struggle to find an audience even when the material has broader appeal on themes (here, AI companionship, genetic enhancement/eugenics-adjacent ethics, faith, and the soul).

In short, the bad reviews reflect a clear stylistic and tonal disconnect for many critics, and that reception contributed to a curtailed release that further hurt its chances. For viewers drawn to the film’s exploration of an android’s sincere belief in the Sun as a life-giving, miracle-working presence—alongside questions of machine consciousness, human augmentation, love, and what cannot be fully replicated—the movie can still land as heartfelt and thought-provoking, especially with Jenna Ortega’s committed central performance. Box-office results in this environment do not always map cleanly onto how the story resonates with the audience that seeks it out.

Overall, Klara and the Sun succeeds as an uplifting, idea-driven story about friendship, hope, and the search for meaning. It has some language and mature thematic material, but its heart, performances (especially Ortega’s), and engagement with AI, ethics, the soul, and faith make it a worthwhile and positive experience—especially for families ready to talk afterward about technology, belief, and what makes us human. It is a film that leaves you thinking about light, loyalty, and the possibility of miracles.