Alan Mattli’s review published on Letterboxd:
As usual, Garland proves very adept at creating striking image sequences, even (or especially) when they stray into the associative and deliberately incoherent. His command of atmosphere remains one of his major strengths, too, with the first stalking scene ranking high among the most chilling passages of his career. There's also a lot to be said for his bold confidence to have the movie essentially set itself on fire in the third act.
Unfortunately, however, there is next to nothing underpinning any of this. There is no there, there. Men has one overarching idea – that masculinity is a self-perpetuating destructive force haunting both femininity and itself – and it stresses that extremely basic conclusion far beyond its breaking point. Within the confines of Garland's thematic conceit, there is nowhere for this premise to go – no breathing space, no opportunity to develop or to be differentiated in a meaningful way, just a single-minded insistence on a thesis that most viewers will probably already agree with at the outset.
Thus, what ends up happening is that the film is caught circling around the same handful of talking points for 80 ponderous minutes, before it reaches for a flashy folk horror climax that only serves to restate the thesis, just with more blood and viscera. It's scenes in search of a purpose, a message in search of a movie.