Mary Conti’s review published on Letterboxd:
Completely shits itself in the second half as it loses any sense of story in order for some weak ruminations on how Larson and her son have now theoretically moved from one prison to another. This might work in a stronger film that had the guts to make the points it wants to make, but this version is so noncommittal that this entire back half is pretty much dead air.
But oh man, Larson and Tremblay are so fucking good here I don't care. This is the best positive parent/child relationship on film since Dustin Hoffman and Justin Henry in Kramer vs. Kramer. I wept three times in spite of Abrahamson's best attempts to make all the wrong directing decisions. If there's an example of how strong acting can overcome some pretty bad decisions, this is it.