Matt Brown’s review published on Letterboxd:
"What's remembered, lives."
Might well be the film of the year. Devastating, precise, clear, and humane. I felt it, fully, in my chest; behind my solar plexus and above my guts. And I don't know how a movie that is both so specific about its point in time, and is generally describing a world before this moment, could feel so much like it is reaching into, fully inhabiting, and interpresting this moment for us. The ache of it; the dazzling grief. The taste in your mouth. The way the possibilities feel like they tingle, as the sun goes down, or comes up.
There's a feeling, too, when I realize a movie is about to end, and the ending has snuck up on me. A lurch. I think that's what it's going to feel like when it happens — the last one, down the road.