Reviews provided by RottenTomatoes
Only in flashes does Wong Kar-Wai let you forget about the relentless, meticulous beauty long enough to lose yourself inside it.
J. R. Jones,
Though it's beautifully shot (and characteristically drenched in red-orange light), the characters gently bump each other away, like slow-rolling billiard balls.
Wall Street Journal:
Alternately precious and vapid, the movie attempts to wrest metaphors from a jar of house keys, and eternal verities from pastry. Slice the pie how you will, it's still half-baked.
Wong Kar Wai's strange pastry-filled reverie My Blueberry Nights is not for those who like movies in which things happen; rather, it's for those in a mood to float, sometimes deliciously.
My Blueberry Nights is Wong Kar Wai's first English-language movie. Perhaps not coincidentally, it's also his worst movie.
Los Angeles Times:
My Blueberry Nights should have played like a memory, but its hard-living, luckless losers are too beautiful to be believed.
For all its implied weightiness and melancholy, My Blueberry Nights is a confection that leaves you feeling empty.
Christian Science Monitor:
The Hong Kong director Wong Kar Wai has an undeservedly high reputation as a master stylist. He's more like a master window dresser.
My Blueberry Nights hints that buried in Wong's spicy odd noodlings may be an even better conventional filmmaker.
Wai fills the void with pointless slow-mo shots while pushing his real talent to commit over-acting hara-kiri with syrupy drawls and nonsense perspectives
It may not be what you expect. But with Wong Kar-wai, it seldom is.
Jones displays some acting chops, but the character she creates with Wong has all the personality of a museum tour guide.
New York Daily News:
Setting out a grandly romantic dish, Wong encourages us to indulge. And then he leaves us hungry for something more.
New York Post:
The biggest problem is Wong's decision to cast Norah Jones as Elizabeth, a New Yorker who hits the road after a love affair goes bad. Jones, in her first movie, can't act. (There, I said it!)
New York Observer:
Fortunately, Mr. Wong has made the perilous journey into a new language without sacrificing his artistic soul and very personal visual style.
New York Observer:
Since it began shooting in June 2006, it's been on the shelf ever since, and you'll instantly know why. It's like watching ice melt.
It's not the pie that is meant to make this watchable, it is Wai's greatest gift, observing people, little slices of life in New York, Memphis or Nevada. Unfortunately in this case, those slices don't add up to a meal, or even dessert.
The Hong Kong director's efforts to transplant things to a distinctly American tableau fail. Prettily, but miserably.
It's a store-bought bakery-window display cake, infused with flavor essences and color-enhancers. (Is there a cinematic MSG that intensifies the sweetness of eye candy?)
The longer this slice of fanciful blueberry-pie Americana sits with me, the better I like it.
San Francisco Chronicle:
Few directors regularly exploit so well film's capacity for capturing the present and the past in the same instant. Wong is plugged into a special zone that feels that joy of experience and the pain of recollection simultaneously.
I spent the whole 90 minutes in a state of bemused, vaguely pleasurable anticipation, always hoping for the next gorgeous image to come along and sweep me away.
Minneapolis Star Tribune:
Fans of Chinese director Wong Kar Wai's dreamy, romantic films will find My Blueberry Nights a luscious treat, although newcomers to his world of sensuous longing will no doubt wonder what all the fuss is about.
[Portman], not Jones, is the savory dish of movie magic in a mostly bland Blueberry Nights.
Mostly, My Blueberry Nights is irritating and plodding, saved only slightly by Law's lively performance.
... while the actors' dialogue delivery is perfectly natural, the aphoristic philosophical nuggets Wong favors sound banal and clunky in this context, leaving the film thematically in the shallow end of the pool.
The disappointment here doesn't have much to do with Wong doing America -- he's been doing America for years, even in Chinese -- but with Wong doing Wong, and not up to his own standard.
A star-driven pseudo-indie affair that will please neither celebrity worshipers nor cineastes.