Frank Ritz’s review published on Letterboxd:
It's actually hilarious that this is the "nice" Gallo movie.
Cinema might've peaked when Billy is sitting at his parent's kitchen table (inside of Vincent Gallo's actual childhood home), with the game that sent him to jail playing on the TV, surrounded by Bills memorabilia on all the walls, taunted by the chocolate doughnut he's allergic to, the pop he didn't ask for, the photo album he's not a part of, while also confronting the only photograph of him that's with his dog his Father murdered, all while listening to his Dad sing in the other room (again, Vincent Gallo's actual Father singing), and all he can do is look and cry. If films aren't a demented capturing of our psyche, I don't know what else they are, and this small moment among a sea of unforgettable ones, is just that; unforgettable.
Maybe you have to be a certain type of emotionally stunted man-child to resonate with this movie, but uh, ding ding, here I am! Maybe I'm not as outwardly terrible as Billy, but I don't know if there's a movie/character I actually see myself more in; trapped by your own devices, hoping a change will come. Frankly hard to admit, and even harder to deal with. Sweetness might be the only way.
It's also just, ya know, good as a movie.
