In the Blink of an Eye (2026) Movie Review: A Millennia-Spanning Tapestry of Human Connection That Hits the Heart but Fumbles the Scope

Directed by Andrew Stanton and written by Colby Day, In the Blink of an Eye (2026) marks a significant moment in contemporary cinema: the return of a Pixar legend to the world of live-action storytelling. Produced by Searchlight Pictures and Mighty Engine, the film represents Stanton’s first non-animated feature since the ambitious but troubled John Carter. Clocking in at 94 minutes, this science fiction drama takes a bold, non-linear approach to the "cycle of life" narrative, weaving together three disparate timelines that range from the dawn of humanity to its potential future among the stars. It is a film that aims for the stars while trying to remain rooted in the soil of the Earth.

The cast is as eclectic as the premise itself. Kate McKinnon takes on a surprisingly dramatic role as Coakley, a space traveler in the far future, while Rashida Jones and Daveed Diggs ground the film in the present as Claire and Greg, two academics navigating love and loss. The prehistoric segment features Jorge Vargas, Tanaya Beatty, and Skywalker Hughes as a Neanderthal family struggling for survival in a world that is literally and figuratively cooling. Each group of characters is isolated in their own era, yet they are bound by invisible threads of biological and emotional heritage.

Released on Hulu on February 27, 2026, following a high-profile world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival on January 26, the film arrives with the weight of expectation. For a director who once made the world fall in love with a silent trash-compacting robot, the stakes are high. In the Blink of an Eye matters because it represents a rare, unabashedly optimistic take on the sci-fi genre. In an era where many futuristic visions are defined by dystopia and decay, Stanton offers a vision of the future that is a companion species to our past: a reminder that the desire for connection is our oldest and most resilient instinct.

Story and Screenplay: A Bold Narrative Experiment with Uneven Pacing

The screenplay by Colby Day is a triptych that refuses to follow the traditional rules of linear progression. Instead, it functions as a "philosophical rhyme," cutting between the three eras to highlight similarities in the human experience. We see the Neanderthals discovering the first rudiments of art and medicine, Claire uncovering their remains in the present day, and Coakley carrying the seeds of humanity to a new planet in the 25th century. It is a structure that demands a high level of engagement, as the "why" of these connections is withheld until the final act. For those who enjoy a movie that plays like a puzzle, this approach is rewarding: however, for those seeking a traditional narrative drive, it may feel frustratingly fragmented.

The pacing is where the script encounters its most significant hurdles. While the film opens with a sense of methodical wonder, it tends to sag in the middle sections. There are moments where the cutting between timelines feels more like a distraction than a revelation, particularly when the stakes in one era are significantly higher than in another. For instance, the life-and-death struggle of the Neanderthal family often makes the contemporary romantic tensions between Claire and Greg feel somewhat slight by comparison. The film occasionally feels like it is stalling, relying on the visual beauty of its transitions to mask a lack of forward narrative momentum.

Thematically, the screenplay is rooted in a radical, almost stubborn optimism. It posits that love is the engine of evolution and that our technologies are merely extensions of our need to not be alone. While this is a beautiful sentiment, the writing sometimes leans too heavily on "stock generalizations." Some sequences feel a bit too much like a high-end commercial for the human race, offering platitudes about the brevity of life that can come across as trite. Yet, when the script allows for specific, quiet moments of grief or discovery: such as a character staring at a fossilized acorn or a digital assistant showing genuine concern: it manages to find a sincere resonance that overcomes its more maudlin tendencies.

Acting and Characters: Sincerity and Chemistry Across the Ages

The acting in In the Blink of an Eye is characterized by a collective commitment to the film’s earnest tone. Rashida Jones and Daveed Diggs are the emotional anchor of the contemporary storyline. Their chemistry is natural and unforced, providing a much-needed sense of groundedness. Jones, in particular, excels at portraying a woman who is intellectually formidable but emotionally guarded, especially as she deals with her mother’s terminal illness. Diggs brings a warmth and patience to Greg that makes their relationship feel authentic, even when the script doesn't fully explore the depths of their personal histories.

Kate McKinnon’s performance is perhaps the most surprising element of the film. Known primarily for her comedic versatility, she sheds her usual "sideways shtick" to deliver a performance of quiet, lonely dignity. As Coakley, she is tasked with carrying the weight of the future on her shoulders, and she does so with a vulnerability that is deeply moving. Her interactions with ROSCO, the ship’s A.I. assistant, are highlights of the film. McKinnon manages to make a relationship with a digital blue circle feel emotionally compelling, a testament to her skill and Stanton’s history of humanizing the mechanical.

The Neanderthal family, led by Jorge Vargas and Tanaya Beatty, faces the most difficult challenge: communicating a complex range of emotions without the benefit of understandable language. Working through heavy prosthetics, they rely on gesture, breath, and primal vocalizations to tell a harrowing tale of survival. Their performances are driven by a pure intent that often outshines the more verbose sections of the film. While some might find the lack of subtitles for these characters a barrier, the physical storytelling is clear enough to convey a profound sense of loss and discovery, making this prehistoric segment the most "dazzlingly simple" part of the production.

Direction and Technical Aspects: The Vision of a Visual Storyteller

Andrew Stanton’s direction reveals his roots as a Pixar visionary. He has a unique ability to coax intimacy out of enormity, focusing on the small, human moments that exist within the vastness of a millennia-spanning epic. His style is defined by a "faith in visual storytelling," where a lingering shot of a wave crashing or a hand touching a stone carries as much weight as a page of dialogue. This is a film made by someone who understands that movies are, at their best, a series of images that evoke a feeling. Stanton manages to make the expansive nature of the story feel personal, even when the screenplay threatens to become too abstract.

The technical execution is, for the most part, exquisite. The cinematography by Ole Bratt Birkeland is luminous, capturing the wild beauty of the prehistoric coast and the sterile, lonely corridors of the future spaceship with equal skill. The production design by Ola Maslik is expansive and detailed, though some viewers might feel that the "present-day" sequences have a flatter, more "streaming-quality" look compared to the more stylized past and future segments. There is a sense that this film was engineered for the immersion of a theatrical space, and its release on a digital platform may slightly diminish the impact of its grandest visual compositions.

The editing by Mollie Goldstein and the sound design by Ryan Joe Allam deserve special recognition. The use of "J-cuts," where the sound from the next era bleeds into the current one, creates a sense of "philosophical rhyming" that bridges the gaps between the characters. An alarm clock in the present might transform into a system warning on a spaceship, or a Neanderthal grunt might echo into a contemporary sigh. These transitions are not just narrative bridges: they are the heart of the film’s argument that we are all part of a single, continuous experience. This technical precision helps to sustain interest during the film’s slower passages.

Trailer In the Blink of an Eye (2026)

Music and Atmosphere: Twinkling Melancholy and Radical Hope

The atmosphere of In the Blink of an Eye is heavily defined by the score of Thomas Newman, a frequent collaborator of Stanton’s. Newman’s music is, as always, a masterclass in twinkling melancholy and searching awe. His score does a tremendous amount of "emotional heavy lifting," filling in the narrative gaps with a sonic landscape that feels both ancient and futuristic. The music doesn't just accompany the images: it interprets them, providing a sense of continuity that the script sometimes lacks. For many, the score will be the element that triggers the most profound emotional response, particularly during the film’s dramatic final act.

Overall, the mood of the film is one of persistent, quiet anxiety tempered by a grander sense of peace. It captures the feeling of being a small part of a very large story, which can be both frightening and comforting. The sound design plays with this by layering ambient noises and sudden silences to reflect the isolation of the characters. While the film’s aesthetic has been described by some as having a "pharmaceutical ad" sheen (sleek, clean, and perhaps a bit too perfect), the sincerity of the atmosphere is undeniable. It is a film that wants to hug the audience, providing a benevolent assessment of the human project during a time when such kindness feels rare.

Strengths and Weaknesses

What works well:

• Emotional Sincerity: The film’s unabashed heart and its belief in the power of love and connection are genuinely moving, leading to a cathartic finale.
• Kate McKinnon’s Dramatic Turn: A standout performance that proves her range extends far beyond comedy, anchoring the sci-fi elements with real vulnerability.
• Technical Craftsmanship: From Thomas Newman’s gorgeous score to the clever use of sound bridges, the film is a professionally polished experience.
• The Neanderthal Segment: A masterclass in non-verbal storytelling that captures the primal origins of human emotion and ritual.
• Visual Transitions: The fluid way the film toggles between eras creates a unique, elemental power that reinforces its central themes.

What doesn't work:

• Inconsistent Pacing: The middle act slows down significantly, and the 94-minute runtime can sometimes feel like a "slow crawl."
• Derivative Themes: The message about life’s brevity and the "one-ness" of humanity can feel trite or like "stock generalizations" seen in better films.
• Fragmented Narrative: The present and future storylines sometimes lack the depth and "dramatic rigor" of the prehistoric section.
• "Cheap" Visuals in Spots: Some contemporary sequences lack the ambitious visual flair of the rest of the film, occasionally feeling like a standard streaming production.
• Underwritten Characters: Beyond their archetypal struggles, some characters lack the texture needed to make their specific arcs feel truly essential.

Final Verdict: A Flawed But Essential Celebration Of The Human Spirit

Rating: 3/5 stars

In the Blink of an Eye is a movie that I found myself admiring more for its ambition and its heart than for its actual execution. It is a sincere, grand swing at a "big picture" story that manages to be deeply affecting even when it is being undeniably cloying. Andrew Stanton has created a film that feels like a labor of love: a triptych of stories that, despite their disparate settings, all whisper the same message: that we are never truly alone as long as we have the memory of those who came before and the hope for those who come after.

This is a film for the "geeky intellectuals" and the dreamers who are looking for a science fiction experience that prioritizes philosophy and feeling over explosions and hardware. If you are someone who was moved by the quiet, wordless opening of WALL-E or the millennia-spanning scope of Cloud Atlas, you will likely find yourself on the same "peculiar wavelength" as this movie. It is a singular experience that, despite its faults, offers a "singular lacks of cynicism" that is refreshing in the current cinematic landscape.

However, those who demand narrative tight-ropes and intellectually complex plotting may find the film to be "maudlin and obvious." It is a movie that tells you its themes like "anvils" rather than letting you discover them, and its fragmented structure may leave some viewers feeling like they watched a long, expensive montage rather than a fully realized feature. Ultimately, it is a film that you will either roll your eyes at or wipe away tears for: and for me, it was the latter. I recommend it as a beautiful, if shaggy, reminder that even in the vastness of time, the small moments of love are what truly define us.

Recommendation: If you appreciate performance-driven sci-fi with a strong emotional core, this is a must-watch on Hulu. However, if you prefer your space epics with more action and less "pontificating," you might find this one a bit too slow to sustain your interest.