Hurry Up Tomorrow

There’s something beautiful and intriguing about what you’re watching. What you’re hearing. Hard to put your finger on it. Hard to ignore the imperfections, too.

The script runs in circles in an effort to pad its runtime, and the finale is so self-flagellating that it feels like a parody of broken artist tropes.

Despite some impressive woozy visuals and a soundtrack of chart-topping music, there’s not much to recommend this derivative pop-star drama.

Even some die-hard fans may find themselves wishing for a literal interpretation of the title, because “Hurry Up Tomorrow” can’t end soon enough.

It won’t slam the door on Tesfaye’s movie ambitions, but as a bid to conquer the big screen, it’s an off-putting, see-what-sticks wallow that treats the power of cinema like a midconcert costume change.

A feature-length ego-stroke of monumental hubris that instantly assumes pole position in the race for year’s worst movie.

This is barely a film, and it’s so desperate to be seen as some sort of invigorating arthouse experience that it ends up coming across as pathetically try-hard, pretentious, and devoid of any substance.

Trey Edward Shults’ latest film proves that he is a one hit wonder who is high on his own supply and is bandying in the most basic bitch, overwrought, faux deep, artsy fartsy films.

...Hurry Up Tomorrow is a narcissistic rambling that seems more like a parody of how a star with an out-of-control ego sees themself rather than the raw display of the artist's soul it aspires to be. [Full review in Spanish]

This otherwise visually striking psychological drama drowns into a hollow vanity project.