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An early trade review for "My Blueberry Nights" is in.  Todd McCarthy, writing for Variety opines, "For all its insubstantiality, "My Blueberry Nights" does provide some catnip allure that will be to some tastes. Best served will be those willing and able to embrace the general void of Elizabeth's character and place themselves within it."  He also notes, rather harshly, "But 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. Additionally, the road movie potential of the film's second half feel significantly under-realized." 

It turns out that other reviews are equally as harsh.  Jeff Wells, writing for his "Hollywood Elsewhere" blog notes, " don't know which is worse -- the whole waitressing-in-Memphis section of the film, or the endless soul-searching section with Law in the pastry shop. But put 'em together and wham, you're looking at your watch and going "holy bejeezus, this is dreadful." It's time for Kar to say "okay, it didn't work" and hightail it back to China."

Premiere film critic Glenn Kenny fires back at Wells on his blog.  "His Hollywood Elsewhere post on it is a spontaneous rant that rivals early Henry Rollins for sheer pissed-offedness. He's so Runaway Train that he risks becoming as ridiculous as he accuses the movie of being."


Anne Thompson, blogging for Variety, writes, "Wong Kar Wai's widescreen My Blueberry Nights is a delicious mood poem, a visually stunning ode to the lips of Norah Jones and Jude Law, who deliver the film's highlight: a soft, sumptuous, slow kiss."

Xan Brooks of The Guardian didn't like it.  "He [Mr. Wong] loses his way badly on his first English-language outing, an American road movie that relegates him to the role of a passive, swooning tourist amid a blur of neon signs, smoky bars and open freeways."

Richard and Mary Corliss, writing for TIME, note, "the memory we'll cherish is that of [Natalie] Portman's vibrancy, grittiness and ache, all performed with a virtuosa's easy assurance. She, not [Norah] Jones, is the savory dish of movie magic in a mostly bland Blueberry Nights."

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