evan 🦈’s review published on Letterboxd:
A lyrical exercise in film as craft — Holy Motors is to Leos Carax as an encyclopedia is to genre studies. We weave, or more accurately, bulldoze through a chocolate box assortment of candy-coated skits, essentially. Each one color-coded and pertaining to a certain “realm” of filmmaking (sci-fi, horror, musical, crime, etc.). Although it looks pretty, packaged neatly with a nice bow on top, the chocolates themselves are a bit — how do you describe it? It’s the difference between Godiva and say, Russel Stover — authenticity? For all the crazy and jarringly different scenes it has, Holy Motors, within each scene, just feels a bit stale and a bit artificial. The question remains: is it self aware?