It’s hard not to miss the more detailed, delicate style of Mr. Whishaw, yet the film still attains a credible, melancholy air in crafting its vanished world of art, love and recklessness.

Rami Malek’s performance feels like a bag of tics, as if he were playing an idea of gayness rather than a person, lending many scenes a frustrating artificiality.

Malek is an actor of lithe physicality -- his body language in the dance scenes has a witty expressiveness -- but he never conjures a sense of Jimmy’s inner life. Seldom has his emotional range felt more glaringly inadequate.

A film that speaks to the desire to keep living through what we love, even when the world seems determined to take everything away from us. [Full review in Spanish]