Frank Ritz’s review published on Letterboxd:
Most special thing this movie can do is feel like it’s the first time, every time. Obviously over half of it is imprinted in my brain, but more often than not, the sequencing never sticks, and continuously find myself going, “right, now it’s this bit”. In real time memory and the current moment collide, and I get to intake the film in it’s state of meditation. No other flick is like this; in the way it’s constructed, the way it looks, the staging of scenes, the deliberation of the performances, or it’s staggering specificity of details, clearly coming from someone who’s experienced them to whatever degree. I’ve said so many things I think every-time (best presentation of memory ever, feels like a photo album, feels so real, etc), but it’s because it feels transcendent every single time; never loses an ounce of its sparkling power. It felt more emotionally impactful this watch than the last couple, and I felt the tears rolling down my face often throughout. Though it’s often harrowing, and depressing, I do enjoy my time with the Davies fam, and seeing the world through one particular mind’s eye. Even if I don’t exactly connect with everything and everyone (feel like I also don’t even understand half the dialogue), the emotional core rings so powerful, it’s borderline unbearable, yet, that’s what makes it timeless, and poignant.
After watching the flick, I got to go see HAIM with a lot of buds, and the show was amazing (duh); the way the good moments shine through in our lives amongst the plethora of bad/traumatic ones, and how often the good is those moments of pure community, and connection, which so often (especially in our current world - but obviously then too), can only come through sharing something like music.
It was also raining while watching, and that felt like divine magic.