Critic Reviews



Based on 19 critic reviews provided by
It takes cojones for a filmmaker to chase Fassbinder's ghost, but it takes heart and talent to damn near catch up with it.
Laurence Anyways flows naturally, both thematically and stylistically, from Dolan's previous movies; here, though, he succeeds more than ever at incorporating his visual idiosyncrasies into the narrative. In "I Killed My Mother" and even more so in "Heartbeats," the director's long slow-motion sequences and overbearing, eclectic soundtracks could feel like crutches, overused particularly during characters' moments of vulnerability.
Dolan never flinches across this bold, brassy piece; it's confidently directed, stylishly shot, passionately acted and evocatively scored.
It's hard to imagine that the prodigiously gifted Dolan is still in his early twenties. This is another work of marvellous maturity and assurance.
Forgive this film its marvelous moodiness - someone needs to go there once in a while.
Laurence Anyways is like a big, ornate, overstuffed pillow of a movie. It's attractive and comfortable, even if there's just too much of it.
The movie contains an epic scope that feels out of sync with the smallness of its plot; you get the idea by the first act and then Laurence's world simply hangs there for another two hours like a slo-mo shrug.
Unwieldy and unkempt but both moving and dizzying to experience, Laurence Anyways is Dolan's grandest statement yet.
A gifted writer, Dolan likes to give his characters poignant mouthfuls, and you can tell the actors revel in his language.
Even if the story grates in places, Laurence Anyways is perfectly enjoyable as an immersive orgy of pure sensory pleasure.
In a contest between passion and pretension, Laurence Anyways reaches a kind of draw. What holds up here isn't Dolan's overly decorative filmmaking, but what he gets from his performers.
At nearly three hours, it's entirely too long, needlessly padded out with an intrusive interview-framing device.
It goes on for ever without getting properly started: an epic of depthless self-indulgence.

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