Here is a film that takes a thoughtful, almost meditative approach to storytelling, following multiple generations of families who’ve inhabited one home across various decades. In a way, it’s like a smaller-scale Forrest Gump – less ambitious in scope but every bit as invested in the emotional core of its characters’ lives. Tom Hanks and Robin Wright deliver beautifully understated performances, embodying the subtle shifts of age, experience, and resilience, and helping to breathe life into the ordinary, everyday moments of each family’s story. For anyone who appreciates a more reflective, slice-of-life film, Here manages to be deeply touching, if not groundbreaking.

There’s no traditional plot here – it’s essentially a series of vignettes that move back and forth in time. We see glimpses of families celebrating holidays, saying tearful goodbyes, and dealing with personal challenges, all within the same house. These small but relatable moments give the film a unique approach to storytelling; it’s less about what happens and more about who it happens to. This unusual structure, though perhaps challenging for some viewers, brings out the universal qualities of home: love, joy, grief, and everything in between. It’s a movie not about a single character’s journey, but rather a collective tapestry of life woven by each family who called this place their own.

As always, Hanks and Wright are a pleasure to watch. Their performances elevate the film’s quiet, reflective tone, and give weight and warmth to their scenes. Each moment they share feels rich with history, sometimes within a single glance or subtle gesture. They help embody the passage of time within the house’s walls, bringing depth and familiarity to the scenes that play out across the years. Their chemistry, both in joyous and heartbreaking scenes, adds a nuanced touch, grounding the sometimes overly sentimental atmosphere with a sense of authenticity.

There’s a gentle nostalgia throughout Here that might feel a bit saccharine to some; as I alluded to above, its sentimentality is certainly unabashed. But this quality adds to the film’s appeal as it invites viewers to reflect on their own lives, homes, and memories. Critics may have been a bit harsh on this aspect, but for those who enjoy nostalgic, heartwarming stories, "Here" delivers a comforting experience. Its scenes capturing Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas lend it a cozy, holiday feel, making it especially resonant during the late fall and winter months, during which I can see myself revisiting this annually. 

Admittedly, Here is predictable and a bit indulgent in its emotional approach. The trailers might have given away much of the film’s essence, but even with foreknowledge, there’s something satisfying in seeing these moments unfold. It could have been bolder, perhaps exploring more challenging themes or embracing a more nuanced perspective on family life. But as a straightforward, heartfelt piece, it accomplishes what it sets out to do. The steady-cam cinematography creates an intimacy within the four walls of the the home - a character in its own right - emphasizing the idea of life passing by in a single room, and allowing for a visual style that serves the story well, even if it lacks variety.

Here may not be a must-see in theaters, but it’s the kind of film that lends itself to the intimacy of home viewing. Its steady rhythm and familiarity make it feel like something to curl up with on a quiet evening. I can see "Here" becoming a beloved annual watch, especially around the holidays, given its cozy, multi-generational warmth. It’s one of those rare films that feels more like a memory than a movie, offering a sweet, if somewhat sentimental, reflection on the beauty of the everyday.