Metacritic reviews

Possesses a tone that wobbles masterfully between whimsy, dread, affection and horror, building on rich performances and an understated showiness to cast a queer and tingly spell.

A lovely, luminous dream.

Subtle, strange, off-putting, fascinating.

In an astonishingly assured film debut, Coppola captures the poetry and sweetness of Eugenides' novel without allowing any of the standard rites of passage -- first dates, high-school dances -- to feel trite.

From start to finish there's a shimmer of discovery about it - our discovery of it, Coppola's discovery of how much she can do.

[Coppola] has the courage to play it in a minor key.

Coppola looks beyond the seductive metaphysical puzzle and locates the core of Eugenides's allegory in an obsessive, almost forensic act of remembering, both futile and inexplicably essential.

Coppola infuses her movie with a dreamy poetic tone, and deftly translates the essential metaphors of youth, sexuality and death without sacrificing an earthy humor.

Except perhaps for Lux, who, like The Virgin Suicides itself, is a hothouse flower perishing for want of sunshine and fresh air.

While young Coppola is a pro with her camera, she'd be wise to brush up on her storytelling skills.