Far more films wrestle with existentialism and impermanence than we give them credit for. They’re simply disguised as spectacle in the form of big-budget sci-fi thrillers à la Avatar, action blockbusters like Mad Max: Fury Road. On some occasions, they announce their intentions plainly and falter under the weight of their own solemnity. The Infinite Husk attempted so to disastrous effect. Now, Andrew Stanton’s In the Blink of an Eye follows a similarly well-intentioned but uneven path. Andrew Stanton, an animation titan by trade, boasts a filmography that includes Finding Nemo and WALL-E — no small distinction in modern cinema. Yet he hasn’t earned the same acclaim for his live-action efforts. John Carter buckled under the weight of its own blockbuster ambition, its few bright spots limited to Stanton’s episodic work on Better Call Saul and Stranger Things. Unfortunately, that pattern persists in The Blink of an Eye. Plagued by production delays stretching back to 2023, the film arrives on Hulu with the sheen of prestige sci-fi but the pulse of something far less vital. It reaches for the spiritual vastness of Cloud Atlas and the hushed introspection of Ad Astra, yet ultimately struggles to stir even the faintest flicker of emotion or hope.
In The Blink of an Eye’s Story Spans Three Eras of Human Civilization

In the Blink of an Eye unfolds non-linearly across three vast chapters of human evolutionary history, separated by millennia but tethered by the same essential story. It starts in 45,000 BC with a flint-making, hunter-gatherer Neanderthal family of four: Thorn (Jorge Vargas), his pregnant wife Hera (Tanaya Beatty), daughter Lark (Skywalker Hughes), and newborn Ebb. Then it pivots from this primordial wilderness to the present day, 2025, with quite comedic title cards. Doctoral candidate in Anthropology Claire Robertson (Rashida Jones), when not cozying with her lover Greg (Daveed Diggs; recognizable to many from Snowpiercer TV show), she examines a prehistoric skeleton that appears unmistakably linked to the aforementioned Neanderthal clan. The final piece lies in a distant techno-utopian future, centered on Coakley (Kate McKinnon), an A.I. co-pilot, and Rosco (Rhona Rhees) — think a hyper-evolved Alexa — aboard a spacecraft bound for a remote planet to carry the remnant seeds of humanity.
In the Blink of an Eye Ties Its Pieces Together with Hands of Steel and Threads of Fragile Silk

Mid-story, it’s hard to quell the tension that swells within from wondering how these eras connect and if it will pay off. Turns out, it’s via an acorn-shaped trinket, carved by Thorn, that is passed from generation to generation as a sort of mantle of the future. The film opens with a quote from Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar — “Remember, remember, this is now, now and now” — followed by a meditative “cradle of life” montage that traces existence from the Big Bang to single-celled organisms, plants, seaweed, and finally lobsters feeding on them. From the outset, its themes begin to take shape. This is a film about the presence and urgency of time, a reminder to fully experience and appreciate the present before it becomes the past. In the words of Cloakley, “memories are worth cherishing cos you know they’ll end.” There’s a certain rhyme in the way characters from each era advance the future, often catalyzed or intensified by medical tragedy. Thorn fights to sire children safely despite a near-fatal injury and the loss of a loved one. In the present, Claire and Greg pass on knowledge of the gene-replacement technology, Elixir, to their son after Claire loses her mother. In the far future, Coakley faces impossible decisions, transporting the remnants of humanity — a collection of stem cells destined to become children — to a new planet, even as the oxygen-producing plants she depends on succumb to a mysterious virus.

Poignant as these stakes may be, the presentation of this message doesn’t sting well enough to justify skin-deep characters. The closest thing to an interesting character is Thorn since the audience traverses early human living (from isolationist to societal) through this eyes. Anyone dying of impatience to see McKinnon dish out a comedic one-liner and her signature comedic timing would be sorely disappointed. The closest thing to humor is a “Why didn’t the sun go to college? Because it already had a million degrees” line she humors Rosco when bored, or a 3D-printed cup of tikka masala for breakfast. Claire and Greg’s is the least interesting story, that’s for sure. Thankfully, there are some flowers to be given to the technical department. Thomas Newman’s score fills in the blanks of silence between dialogues and cavemen’s unintelligent mutterings. Ola Maslik’s production design impresses in its attention to detail, whether in a seemingly mundane research lab or the intricate greenhouse aboard a space station. And Ole Bratt Birkeland’s cinematography that lights up every shot with a smile. These are the only landmarks stopping anyone from forgetting this sci-fi mess in as much time as it takes to blink an eye (“We’re all still Here” would have sufficed as a better title).

Release Date

February 27, 2026

Director

Andrew Stanton

Writers

Colby Day

Producers

Jared Ian Goldman