Jeffrey Overstreet’s review published on Letterboxd:
Or, Finding Emo.
It's a landmark in anime, with shots and sequences that are truly breathtaking in detail, color, and subtlety. (For example: There's an almost-incidental fan oscillating in a room in one scene that made me shake my head in amazement. I could have watched it hum for a long time.) And it's wildly creative in its narrative ambition, in an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind kind of way.
But ultimately, for this viewer, it's just way too much. It could've been about 15–20 minutes shorter, and we might have had a chance to carry our own emotional responses with us rather than wearying of those insisted on by the overbearing pop music, the overly ecstatic imagery, and the repetitive nature of connections/disconnections between psychically linked loves. It feels too impressed with itself, as if it's congratulating itself for making us swoon... when, well, I wasn't swooning.
I get its phenomenal popularity: It has the "Jack" "Rose!" "Jack!" "Rose!" pathos of Titanic. But I endured the end credits feeling as if I'd just heard the cheesiest Coldplay anthem played on repeat for an hour.
Sigh. Sorry, Your Name fans. I tried.