Essi Mäkelä’s review published on Letterboxd:
This mostly felt like they used the AIDS crisis as a way to get sympathy for a white cishet male's crisis of turning 30, and not knowing how his artistic career would go. Again, someone who doesn't sleep, and "has no money", yet still gets by and manages to produce art while at it. Maybe last minute but still.
Maybe I should know more of the guy and who he was irl, and maybe I should know what musicals they talked about to appreciate them better. This just felt too American, had similar shots of New York that American Psycho had and Bo Burnham's Inside seemed to echo the beginning of this movie to the T, so I'm not sure if I've just been seeing too much this kind of stories lately to see why it needed to be told again. Some of the songs were nice. For a moment I thought there was more to this but the layers were aparently just an illusion and wishful thinking in the end.
I mean, the guy died, I'm sure it was sad, and 35 is young, so he could've done a lot more. But watching this didn't point my symphaties towards the main character, and in the end I don't know why I should care. He is known, he is remembered, he will be remembered much longer than the mostly nameless friends of his who died of AIDS even younger.