K. Austin Collins’s review published on Letterboxd:
This is not a movie that aims to understand Dickinson through a series of biographical bullet points. Davies prefers, instead, to have us observe Dickinson through a series of overlapping impressions. Each new scene feels like a glittering shard of experience that deviates from and complicates the last. One moment she’s breaking a plate in a fit of annoyance, the next she’s despairing over what a married reverend she’s taken a liking to thinks of her poems. Her world is small and vexing, but also grand and full of love.