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Baker’s gaze at his protagonist is nearly as sharp as his eye for strong compositions. As with The Florida Project, these frames aren’t enormously aestheticized, but they’re grainy and regularly gorgeous. You can almost feel the blazing heat of the hot summer sun in the oranges his camera captures. You can’t miss the nightmarish economic desolation that envelopes every inch of this world.

Red Rocket doesn’t wield the same emotional wallop as The Florida Project. Baker has moved from child characters to a man who’s intensely childlike, in both his selfishness and his deluded optimism. If anything, that makes the new film more rewarding; the filmmaker has pulled off another risky challenge.

Rocket is leisurely episodic and at over two hours, almost certainly longer than it needs to be, but the director's singular gift for street casting — beyond Rex, hardly anyone here has acted professionally before — and deeply embedded sense of mood works its own kind of slow-rolling alchemy.

Shrewd, gritty, and unfailingly hilarious... Baker proves once again that he knows how to approach stories about Americans on the fringes as a considerate outsider, immersing himself in the details of the world he depicts intimately, then transposing it onto the screen for all its tender, intricate realness.

I can’t pretend Red Rocket moved me in the same way as [Baker's] other films did. It doesn’t carry the same exuberant, insouciant swagger of Tangerine; nor does it feel as quietly lacerating as The Florida Project. But it is still a slyly humorous ride, a piercing close-up portrait of a rascal who doesn’t deserve one, but I just couldn’t take my eyes off.

["Red Rocket"] resists reveling in degradation and miserabilism for an acutely human portrait of hustler resisting the reality of his sell-by date.

Aspects of [Suzanna Son's] eyelash-fluttering, dimple-cheeked performance, and definitely her characterization, err to the realm of male, wet-dream fantasy—she’s exactly what Mikey sees (and wants) from women, but another writer would probably add another element of complication or depth, enlightening us of her own personhood and existential scope.

Baker and co-screenwriter Chris Bergoch are adept at creating realistic and vivid portraits of life lived in poverty without falling for the miserablist cliches... Red Rocket is a humane comedy, a portrait of romantic douchebaggery and an America of flailing last chances.

Red Rocket is a jagged, jangly character study from the scruffier margins of American society... And in casting the vitally charismatic Rex — an MTV VJ turned rapper turned regular of the Scary Movie franchise — in the role of a lifetime, Baker further reminds us that respectability is an overrated virtue.

Red Rocket feels a little lighter in tone than Baker’s previous work, and as such doesn’t quite have the emotional resonance that we’ve come to expect since his star began to rise... Still, there are some truly riotous moments, and as a character study on how one man’s awfulness permeates across everyone he meets, this is fascinating stuff.

[Baker's] films are simultaneously dedicated to the material realities of being poor in the United States and to the irreverent artificiality of snap zooms, smash cuts, and unexpected music cues. The result is a tone of dire comedy that doesn’t mock (all of) its characters, but rather the absurdity of the situation they’ve landed in—and of the desperate life habits they’ve adopted to cope.

Red Rocket, for all its liveliness and humor, is a pinkly iced and sprinkled portrait of a man, and a nation, with a hole in the middle.