Critics reviews

My Blueberry Nights is an important addition to [the director's] filmography because it offers something that none of his other films do. For about 90 minutes, it lets you look at America through the rose coloured lenses of a Wong Kar-wai film, and it is definitely beautiful to look at.

My Blueberry Nights isn’t crisp, but it’s perfectly edible, even delicious at times... The images are visually sumptuous but aren’t matched in full richness by the narrative. This film has the right ingredients. There just seems to have been a problem with the baking.

Fans of [Wong Kar Wai's] work will leave My Blueberry Nights happy that his first English language film is no outright disappointment, but they'll never class it amongst his best work.

My Blueberry Nights is a wonderful film, and one that confirms by belief that Wong is one of the contemporary giants of cinema, no matter what language he’s working in.

Wong has succeeded in turning America into a Wong Kar-Wai movie.

After 90 minutes of “My Blueberry Nights,” which pass pleasantly enough, with swirly, mood-saturated colors; lovely faces; and nice music, you may feel a bit logy yourself--filled up, sugar-addled, but not really satisfied.

[My Blueberry Nights is] maddeningly superficial and, in the end, something of a blank... There’s a curious mismatch between the surface of the movie and what lies beneath it. Wong’s technique is layered and detailed like a couture gown, but the story it hangs on is as generic as a seamstress’s dress form.

If there are some similarities between this film and Wong's 1994 shopping-mall romance "Chungking Express" -- still my favorite of all his movies -- "My Blueberry Nights" is even closer to Alan Rudolph's wistful 1984 indie hit "Choose Me."

Maybe it is the lack of subtitles—or the lack of Tony Leung—but these characters have a thinness and an overt-cuteness to them that has been absent from Wong’s work after his maturation to richer writing in Happy Together (1997)... My Blueberry Nights can be seen as a somewhat pathetic if nonetheless gorgeously inlaid figment of a larger idea Wong has gathered, defined, and elaborated through his other work.

My Blueberry Nights is a fetching folly... Every shot is painstakingly thought out, but less emphasis is placed on the human face than on the surfaces that reflect it and the objects that obscure it, and the overall effect is close to that of fetish art.

Away from home, Wong is on far-from-vintage form. But he still speaks the seductive language of longing with tactile tenderness, and draws out a natural performance from Jones. Worth a look, if not quite one to fall for.

[My Blueberry Nights is] far from a disaster, but it does feel like a footnote. It's difficult to see why the great director and very talented performers worked so hard to deliver such thin material.