Here, the latest film from Robert Zemeckis, presents an ambitious exploration of life through the lens of a single house, capturing decades of human experiences within its walls. The premise is simple yet captivating: we observe the lives of different families through the eyes of the house, which serves as both a passive witness and an active participant in the unfolding drama. The film plays with the concept of “people-watching” to an extreme, turning the house itself into an eye, an ever-present observer of the cyclical nature of life.
From the outset, Here introduces the viewer to the concept of viewing life from a peephole. The framing is cleverly designed to make you feel like you’re part of the story, as if you are the one peeking through the windows of time, witnessing decades of events in a single location. The film’s use of a fixed camera angle—inside and outside the house—draws you into this voyeuristic experience, where you feel as though you’re living within the walls of the house itself. This approach gives a sense of intimacy, almost like you’re a character in the film, seeing life unfold in real-time, sometimes in a very theatrical, almost Broadway-like manner. The set design, costumes, and overall mood of each era are executed impeccably, providing a vivid representation of the time periods explored.
However, this sense of immersion also comes with its own challenges. The film’s structure, which relies heavily on framing and transitions through the house’s different rooms, feels like a clever visual trick that begins to wear thin. The transitions between time periods, glimpses into a room, and shifts from one scene to another are initially intriguing but quickly turn repetitive. At first, the changes feel like an insightful commentary on the passage of time, yet by the end, they start to feel more like a loop, with the same patterns repeating. There’s a sense of visual exhaustion that sets in, as though the film’s playful nature becomes a little too taxing for the audience to keep up with.
The house itself is the true star of the movie, not just a backdrop for the characters’ lives, but an active participant in the narrative. The weather, world events, and even small, mundane actions—births, marriages, deaths—are all framed from the perspective of this house, which stands as a silent witness to everything. There’s a subtle hint that life in the house is both ordinary and extraordinary at once. As the film progresses, you realize the house is not merely a space in which these lives unfold, but a reflection of the cycles of existence itself. The house remains, while its inhabitants come and go, reflecting the transient nature of life. This idea of the house as a constant in a world of change is poignant, but the film struggles to balance this deep thematic idea with an engaging plot. While you’re meant to reflect on the mundanities and wonders of life, the movie itself becomes mundane and repetitive, which may leave viewers feeling disconnected from the journey.
The film’s use of music, especially songs like those by The Beatles, highlights the era it’s depicting and adds a layer of nostalgia, yet this also becomes part of the movie’s repetitive pattern. The music is woven into the fabric of the story so smoothly that it feels natural, but there’s a point where it feels less like a storytelling tool and more like an easy shortcut to evoke emotional responses. The humor, too, strikes a balance between familiarity and wit. While some of the jokes feel like well-worn tropes, they are delivered with enough timing and charm to land effectively—offering a lighter, more comedic view of life’s challenges.
Yet, in its attempt to convey the cyclical nature of life, Here ultimately leaves the viewer in the same position as its central characters: watching life pass by without truly participating in it. The film has a strong theoretical foundation, but it never fully breaks free from the confines of its own concept. The predictability of the story and the repetitive nature of its visual style detract from its potential, making it feel more like a thought experiment than a fully realized narrative. The film could have benefited from a more refined structure or a stronger plot that ties together the recurring themes of life’s predictability and monotony. The return to ancient times and the brief glimpse into the first man, for instance, feels disconnected from the rest of the narrative—offering little more than an odd distraction rather than a meaningful commentary.
In the end, the house becomes a member of the family, never abandoning its place despite the crises that make others leave. Richard, the character played brilliantly _as usual_by Tom Hanks, symbolizes the emotional attachment we develop to the physical spaces of our lives. However, this central theme, though intriguing, never quite manages to sustain the emotional weight required to make the film truly impactful. It’s a film that ultimately lacks the spark of something special, falling into the same traps of predictability and visual fatigue that it seeks to explore.
Here would have worked better as a short film, where the novelty of the concept could have been explored without overstaying its welcome.
Here is a film brimming with potential, yet ultimately faltering under the weight of its own ambition. While it offers a unique perspective on the passage of time and the cyclical nature of life, its repetitive structure and lack of narrative depth make it more of an academic experiment than an engaging cinematic experience. It’s life in theory, but not in practice.
Rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (6/10)