Bill Arceneaux’s review published on Letterboxd:
Moss projects such brutality, such anxiety, such fear, and such wishful thinking here as a punk rock goddess played like a light sucking black hole. I'm reminded of THE WRESTLER as it relates to the photography and treatment of/with the settings, making us feel too intimate and awfully fly on the wall/painful observer to the transgressions that go on. Perry has been more interesting as a filmmaker but still shines with a penchant for capturing and conjuring moment after moment, discomforts and all.
Is this a swan song? It's a sadly happy ending if so, one that promises better tomorrows with uncertainty or perhaps knowing failure. Everything is good, but it lacks a certain snap or bite. Toothless? I dunno.