In the Blink of an Eye

Andrew Stanton returns to cinema with the film In the Blink of an Eye, a project that is both deeply personal and undeniably ambitious, as if the director of WALL·E were once again attempting to condense the immensity of human existence into a single cinematic gesture. After the commercial failure of John Carter, Andrew Stanton spent more than a decade working in television and animation, and there is something almost provocative about the scale of what he is attempting here: a triptych spanning approximately 50,000 years, interspersed with a Neanderthal family in the twilight of their species, a contemporary anthropologist confronted with mortality, and an astronaut from the distant future tasked with reviving humanity on a distant planet. On paper, it reads like a synthesis of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Cloud Atlas, and The Tree of Life; in execution, it oscillates between sincere grandeur and frustrating superficiality, never quite reconciling its cosmic scope with the intimacy its thesis demands.

The prehistoric segment, set around 45,000 BC, follows Thorn, played by Jorge Vargas, and Hera, played by Tanaya Beatty, as they struggle to survive in a hostile environment with their children. Andrew Stanton films these sequences with tactile patience, relying on gestures and breath rather than dialogue, letting the light of the fire and the crash of the waves tell the story. The way the camera lingers on hands striking stone, on improvised remedies, on the tentative beginnings of rituals, evokes an almost anthropological fascination. Yet despite this aesthetic commitment, these characters remain more symbolic than dimensional. We observe their suffering but are rarely invited to penetrate an interiority that transcends the archetype of primitive humanity. The decision to forego subtitles emphasizes universality, but it also distances us emotionally; the film wants us to feel the dawn of a connection, but often leaves us to admire it from afar.

In the contemporary storyline, Claire, played with restraint by Rashida Jones, is a doctoral student in anthropology studying ancient remains that may belong to Thorn's lineage. Her tentative romance with Greg, played by Daveed Diggs, unfolds against the devastating backdrop of her mother's terminal illness. Of the three stories, this is the most realistic and, paradoxically, the least conceptually ambitious. Rashida Jones brings a credible blend of intellectual detachment and buried vulnerability to Claire, particularly in scenes where grief shows through her academic composure. Daveed Diggs, natural and effortless, infuses warmth into what might otherwise feel like a schematic love story. And yet, even here, Colby Day's screenplay continues to circle around familiar ground (love tested by distance, the inevitability of death, the rediscovery of purpose) without delving deep enough for the emotional twists to feel fully earned. It's the plot most likely to resonate with audiences, but also the one that highlights how superficial the characters can seem beneath the film's thematic scaffolding.

The narrative arc set in the distant future centers on Coakley, played with remarkable restraint by Kate McKinnon, who abandons her comedic persona to portray a genetically enhanced astronaut embarking on a 336-year journey to Kepler-16B. Alone, except for her AI companion Rosco, voiced by Rhona Rees, Coakley oversees a cargo of human embryos destined to colonize a new world. When a pathogen threatens the ship's oxygen-producing plants, the narrative shifts toward sacrifice and existential judgment. This segment contains the film's most overt science fiction elements, and it's here that Andrew Stanton's Pixar pedigree occasionally resurfaces in the design of interfaces and the interaction between man and machine. Yet the production design often feels strangely generic, as if constrained by streaming-era budgets, and philosophical questions about immortality, technological salvation, and what it means to be human are posed more as statements than dilemmas. Kate McKinnon is convincing in her isolation, particularly in her quiet exchanges with Rosco, but the script rarely gives her the psychological complexity that such solitude demands.

Formally, Andrew Stanton relies heavily on auditory transitions and bridges to weave together the timelines: a growl becomes a sigh; the buzz of a vibrator transforms into the hum of a spaceship; the disease of one era echoes another. These transitions are initially clever, almost playful in their insistence on the rhyme of the story. Over time, however, they risk becoming mechanical, reinforcing parallels that are already thematically obvious. The recurring acorn, passed down through the ages as a symbol of continuity, functions as the film's monolith, its shorthand for the persistence of life, but it borders on heavy-handedness. The structure suggests depth through repetition, but repetition alone cannot replace emotional accumulation. At just over 90 minutes long, each plotline feels compressed, as if we are watching the edit of a longer, more resonant film that never quite materializes.

And yet, despite all its shortcomings, In the Blink of an Eye is not without emotion. Thomas Newman's music overflows with melancholic grace, carrying an emotional weight that the script sometimes struggles to sustain. Certain moments, particularly in the final movement, where past, present, and future converge in contradictory monologues, achieve a poignant fragility. The film's central assertion that mortality gives meaning to relationships, that love resonates beyond the span of an individual's life, is hardly new, but Andrew Stanton approaches it with a sincerity that seems almost radical in an era saturated with cynicism. One senses a director grappling with the consequences of professional failure and personal doubts, seeking comfort in the idea that creative and human legacy endures beyond immediate reception.

In the Blink of an Eye is a film with laudable intentions and uneven execution. It aspires to map the entire human experience, from cave fires to interstellar travel, but struggles to anchor its philosophy in fully realized individuals. The ambition is admirable, the craftsmanship at times inspired, the emotional impact uneven. The film can be as frustrating as it is moving, but it undeniably bears the mark of a director who goes beyond safe commercial formulas to strive for something more thoughtful, even spiritual. In the end, the film doesn't quite achieve the transcendence it seeks, but its seriousness lingers, like an echo through time.

In the Blink of an Eye
Directed by Andrew Stanton
Written by Colby Day
Produced by Jared Ian Goldman
Starring Kate McKinnon, Rashida Jones, Daveed Diggs
Cinematography: Ole Brett Birkeland
Edited by Mollie Goldstein
Music by Thomas Newman
Production companies: Searchlight Pictures, Mighty Engine
Distributed by Hulu (United States), Disney+ (France)
Release dates: January 26, 2026 (Sundance), February 27, 2026 (Worldwide)
Running time: 94 minutes

Seen on February 28, 2026 on Disney+

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