Ted Mills’s review published on Letterboxd:
So here's the thing: the craft and/or the gimmick of this film is impressive in terms of the work put into it. (Although aren't all non-CGI films "hand painted" cel by cel?) But the story on top of this, oy yoy yoy. A Citizen Kane-esque mystery in which Armand Roulin acts as "journalist/detective" trying to answer why Vincent killed himself--it felt forced (heading as it was to 'based-on-painting' signposts along the way every five minutes) and in the end too long and kinda boring. It's the fetishizing of a tormented artist both in story and in technique, and as I watched this from a distance at an outdoor screening, the technique looked like video with an advanced Instagram filter on it. Backgrounds remain static while talking heads run dialog. I guess I was kind of expecting something much more psychedelic and constantly moving, like what happens when animators indeed paint every single frame.