Opiniões dos críticos

...One of Seidl's very best... By making a space to both honor and defend Melanie's desire, Seidl creates a film that problematizes our culture's response to pedophilia. Paradise: Hope doesn't defend the actions of any of its adults (far from it), but it refuses to become so invested in condemnation that it shames a young girl for healthy sexual curiosity, the collateral damage we have usually come to expect.

The opening giggle of Seidl's trilogy—Teresa's own summertime scarlet letter—makes for a lapsed vision of love; the splintered logic of the route from Love's laughter to a screaming Faith means ending with the tiresome, breathless Hope for a paradise that may not exist at all. In Seidl's sometimes beautiful, beguiling hall of walls and windows—not a mirror in sight—one hopes with whispers.

With the last installment of his "Paradise" trilogy, rigid Austrian schoolmaster-cum-director Ulrich Seidl unbends, just a little. This is, by some distance, the best movie of the three, and it showcases the impeccable symmetry of his compositions, while retaining his compulsion to wag a finger in your face.

While we see [Melanie] suffer through the recognizable patterns of excitement, uncertainty, and inevitable rejection, it is through his distress that the grave moral implications of their unconsummated love affair emerges.

When Melanie falls under the spell of a silver-haired pedophile as tall and trim as a Marine (Joseph Lorenz), the film gets set on its rocky path to a conclusion that fulfills the film's title and rounds out the "Paradise" series quite beautifully—if you're not afraid to look.

As before, Seidl's visual style — bitter-comic three-walled tableaux — makes the scenario's tension between desire and reality almost unbearable, but Melanie, a thoroughly unexceptional and inarticulate girl, offers hope by simple virtue of her youth, her unformed romantic folly, and her guileless courage.

Seidl has found a protagonist who beautifully offsets his more forbidding aesthetic tendencies, and as a result, Paradise: Hope thrives on empathy and unease, not cruelty. Its detailed understanding and even affection for its central character makes for an involving experience in which nothing moves quite in the direction you expect it to, your own emotions least of all.

Viewers of previous installments Love and Faith will know more of Melanie's backstory, but it's not essential to understand Seidl's rigorous and yet, at least for him, sentimental film.... Some will inevitably condemn Seidl for being soft on pedophiles (a charge not likely to disturb him in the slightest), but clearly there's another shoe waiting to drop, and there's room between the sole and the ground for a few fleeting moments of humanity.

...The doctor, for his part, is unquestionably a perv, yet there's also a sense that he's mostly responding to [Melanie's] visible ache. It's a genuinely complex situation, one with no possibility of a happy ending. For whatever reason, though, Seidl isn't in a despairing mood this time, and allows these people an uncharacteristic (for him) measure of dignity, concluding the trilogy on a welcome note of placid forbearance. Hope springs eternal for a reason, it seems.

...There's little doubt that much of it is intentionally funny, and in a far less complicated way than Seidl's grim humour has functioned in the past. Indeed, anyone approaching the film as a Seidl virgin (it works perfectly well as a standalone piece) might well view it as an Austrian cousin to similarly blunt coming-of-age films such as Catherine Breillat's 36 Fillette (1988) or Lukas Moodysson's Show Me Love (1998)...