Savina Petkova

Chomet’s film is finally an edifying, educating piece of work, beautifully drawn and composed.

An agreeable documentary with technically zero drama (and notably no other interviewees) portraying a hard-working icon of street-wise aesthetic and a radical influence on high fashion: what’s the catch? Arguably there isn’t one, but it’s hard to say whether the balminess of the film is a result of a friendly disposition, or if Coppola’s auteurist touch is way too light.

The film’s whole narrative set-up reveals itself flimsy and unconvincing––it doesn’t take much to realize that a conversation between a political advisor and a political expert could never in a million years be so toothless and dull.

Rarely has maternal trauma been so well-dramatized on the big screen with zest, humor, and genuine appreciation of the ambivalence baked into these relationships.

That, in the end, everyone is yearning for Horizon remains a beautiful melodramatic touch: in this symbol Costner has weaved a Romantic thread without diminishing the traumatic resonances associated with every depiction of that era.