Blake Griggs’s review published on Letterboxd:
For the sequel, Wong Kar-Wai guts In The Mood For Love from its hotel room heart to its navel in Singapore and opens a rot farm in the husk – decomposition toward abstraction is the order of the day; in a way the negative inverse to the precursor’s romance as sexual restraint. Think Hannibalesque corpse art but a phosphorescent feeding frenzy of bacterial narrative avenues where once there was a singular purposeful organism, a fecund hollow for a whole new ecosystem. Tony Leung’s driving sexual compulsion is the madness of a body functioning after it has lost its soul, ravening after every good thing he has lost or let go, acting (or narrating) through a memorially revolving door of four women and his own inner sci-fi projection. Couldn’t find my footing until its shape was discernible, then definitely grooved to the woozy no-fucks-given subjective track-skipping. Sexy and melancholic.