The film quickly settles into a holding pattern of repetitive porno-movie hijinks and increasingly listless murder scenes.
The hygienization of Rio into what at times looks like a soulless Southern California town is so scandalous it feels like a spoof of the Cities of Love series.
The question of why one should actually work up any emotional investment in what happens to these people is never really answered, much less asked in the first place.
The sometimes cloying formalist whimsy of Jean-Pierre Jeunet seems admirably up-front compared to Jean-Marc Vallée’s tactile, supposedly realistic whimsy.
Heartbreaker’s worst ideas are ripped straight from the rom-com boilerplate.
The documentary is a sad celebration of the endurance of the creative process.