Max Ahoy’s review published on Letterboxd:
Symphony for Miss America
A ramshackle race to maintain that ever fantastical facade which continues to crumble into dust before us with each ing day; perhaps in the end we’ll all come to realize that the hassle it caused was all for not, the bitter truth being that there weren’t any pieces to put back together ever, nothing more than sour smut covering our beings and stinging the gashes we’ve obtained along the way. Yet we move on, no matter what. What else is there to do?