Ryan Quinn’s review published on Letterboxd:
"Daddy, can we only know half of the truth?"
What a roller coaster of a film this was. This felt like reading an epic novel that strives to capture every iota of what it means to be alive. Our lowest lows, our highest highs, and especially the middle ground we find impossible to describe.
Yang uses a few different visual motifs to show us how detached the characters feel from the world around them: reflections of the vast city through glass, empty rooms accompanied with dialogue from unseen people, the backs of characters' heads. It all works so well and Yang brilliantly fuses these with recurring thematic dialogue to match them. Take how Ota's scene about how every day is a first time is immediately followed by Min-Min breaking down over how every day is essentially the same. This isn't as immediately correlated as NJ's reconnection with Sherry is with Ting-Ting's budding romance with Fatty; but that makes it sink in on an even deeper level.
I could go on and on about moments like this in the film, but suffice it to say that I'm flabbergasted that this isn't even the best Edward Yang film.