45
Metascore
15 reviews · Provided by Metacritic.com
- 75New York PostSara StewartNew York PostSara StewartDirector Uberto Pasolini (“Machan”) has a gem in Marsan, a virtuoso actor who plays the role delicately where another might have laid on the pathos too thick.
- 63Slant MagazineWes GreeneSlant MagazineWes GreeneIts fixation on life's quotidian aspects gives way to a less imaginative focus on an inevitable and overly familiar romance.
- 50Entertainment WeeklyEntertainment WeeklyThe plot begs for a jolt of the Charlie Kaufmanesque — it's so pillow-smothered by tedium that even the uplift of magic realism in the film's final shot seems cold and stiff.
- 50The A.V. ClubBenjamin MercerThe A.V. ClubBenjamin MercerWhile Still Life remains relatively successful at sustaining its plainly downbeat atmosphere—and at conveying the deep silence and stifled yearning of days and nights spent profoundly alone—it brooks too little subtlety in navigating many of the plot’s larger-picture developments.
- 42The PlaylistJessica KiangThe PlaylistJessica KiangThe inescapably precious Still Life doesn’t deal in anything as truthful, complex and difficult as empathy; its only currency is pity, and that is the basest coin of all.
- 40Village VoiceJonathan KieferVillage VoiceJonathan KieferWhen it's all over, Still Life feels disembodied and perfunctory, like a very respectful eulogy for no one in particular.
- 40The DissolveMike D'AngeloThe DissolveMike D'AngeloMarsan does his best to convey his character’s essential decency, but he’s hamstrung by Pasolini’s insistence on underscoring the emptiness of John’s existence at every opportunity.
- 40Time OutJoshua RothkopfTime OutJoshua RothkopfStill Life constantly threatens to become a better movie: John’s scrutiny of photos feels vaguely serial-killer–esque, and there’s a late-inning love interest (Downton Abbey’s Joanne Froggatt) that you privately cheer for.
- This might have worked as a short story. As a film, it’s not viciously bad, but it’s dull.
- 40The New York TimesStephen HoldenThe New York TimesStephen HoldenAs the pace picks up, whatever spell the movie cast is shattered, and Still Life melts into a heap of sentimental slush.