Matt Clark’s review published on Letterboxd:
Holy fucking shit.
I saw this a full week ago and I still haven't collected myself.
This movie made me want to tackle all my emotional issues and make myself available for personal connection.
I listened to Armand read the audio book a couple weeks ago and I remember violently sobbing through the last hour while I was commuting (that was not safe and I would not recommend doing that) I expected that same experience, but then my theater had loud, tiny seats, and I knew I couldn't really cry like I wanted to. But then those closing scenes came and I sat numb and the tears just flowed like I've never done before.
I've never been in a romantic relationship, let alone been in love, so I'm the world's most jaded hopeless romantic. I typically passionately feel for stories like this, but I rarely feel them personally. Like, it's insane for a movie to try and make me feel love when I've never felt it authentically for myself, but I'd like to think this did it.
This is a sweeping, beautiful fairytale like I've never seen, or at least this affected me in ways others never have. I can't imagine how incredible this would've been to experience when I was like, 16, when I was just feeling comfortable with my Queerness. I mean, this watch was incredible, but I can't wait to see it again when it expands to my hometown and I can watch it alone in the theater and really let loose.
I desperately want to eat at an outdoor table lit by huge overhead lights hung in trees like they always do in Daddy Luca's movies.
My dad died when I was 13 (I feel like I talk about it a lot for something that matters but also doesn't really) someone told me to let myself feel it and grow, so when Daddy Michael gave his monologue I lost all of my shit. Like, I constantly tell people to let themselves feel, but I forget to myself, and there he was like, telling me to, and it was everything.