Jackson Kim Murphy’s review published on Letterboxd :
"I wouldn't mind a nap either."
The interminable length of each shot explodes outward as its own domestic prison, each cut a sudden, violent laceration of space. The horrifying vacancy never feels less than lived-in, an ordinary stagnance coursing through each frame. Akerman discovers resilience in the resignation, the courage that arises after being boxed in by intangible outside forces and continuing to live a full life, all the way to the inevitable end. In the final moments, the landscape views seem to ruefully drag on for eternities. They are haunting and uneventful, but I never wanted them to end. Any frame could be the last. If the credits appear, it means both characters in the film have left us. And then they do.
Ranking 2016 (at #6)