Metacritic reviews

Essentially serving as a constant spectator, looking in on both the production and her own tangled life, Seyfriend impressively conveys a myriad of tamped-down, long-repressed emotions with an economy of dialogue at her disposal.

The most remarkable element is surely the way Egoyan has seamlessly integrated footage from previous COC productions, that he shot himself at the time, into his new film to give it the breadth of a genuine stage performance.

There are questions and uncertainties that linger once the movie ends. But like difficult, repressed memories, there is no easy resolution to be found.

This intense psychodrama about buried trauma and doomed romance demonstrates an unapologetic operatic flair which entrances and over-reaches in equal measure. Seyfried exudes a stark intensity that grounds the proceedings — whenever Egoyan risks losing control, she keeps the production on course.

Lovers of classical opera will no doubt find it to be a sumptuous treat.

The film’s pleasures are ultimately more textural and academic than those of Tár.

If I have virtually nothing positive to say about Seven Veils other than Seyfried’s compelling presence, I can’t quite bring myself to hate it. Frankly, I was never bored, and to some extent––even when dealing with such tricky subject matter––the fact that Egoyan was willing to be the dozenth piece of content I’ve seen in the past year to make a swipe at intimacy coordinators articulates the level of seriousness he’s dealing with here.

Acting as the film’s teetering anchor, Seyfried channels a fascinating blend of composure and chaos that, in a less muddled movie, would have sung. Yet here, her portrayal of an assured woman unraveling under pressure merely lends a haunting note to a tale that strikes as simultaneously laborious and opaque.

Seven Veils feels like Egoyan struggling under his own expectations, just like Jeanine begins to crumble under hers.

It’s an egghead exercise, both scrambled and undercooked.