Critics reviews

It's a tribute to Tran's vision that for all the radical differences in tone and texture and scale between The Scent of Green Papaya and Cyclo both emerge as essentially expressionist works--movies taking place inside the filmmaker's head. But if the first film most often suggested a peaceful, meditative reverie, the comparably fluid Cyclo unfolds like a protracted nightmare.

If this film holds a grim fascination at times, that's because it has an almost sensationalist, tabloid-exposé feel: ‘Here’s what Saigon has sunk to today!’ But I couldn't get into Cyclo at all; for me, neither of the extremes that in concert create the grunge effect in cinema work well or sit right here.