Eva

[Eva] is a superlatively glossy and elegant entertainment; one cannot help wondering whether, if it were given the room to aim at something more, it might not well end up as something decidedly less.

A decadent period piece and a sadomasochistic view of sexual relations, this singular, resonant, and at times even inspiring mannerist mess is far more interesting than a good many modest successes.

This is a sleek, mannered look at an affair between a cold, almost psychotic, call girl and a writer, who is a fraught with overtones of masochism.

The figures of alienation wandering through an elegant landscape may be familiar from the Antonioni trilogy of the period, but the pessimism, energetic misanthropy and disenchantment with the world are all Losey's own.

There's not much wonder that practically everybody who had anything to do with the making of this film was offering excuses and alibis when it opened in Europe in 1962.

The use of Venice in the winter is beautiful; so are the sets. There are things to carp about in the film... but the style is strong enough to make animal leaps over the gaps.

A quintessentially a midadolescence night's dream of how the arty-smarty set must live and love and suffer.

A watershed work, a furious whirlwind vision

A grim drama springs from an unimpressive story.

Losey's original version is apparently lost in the mists of time, and what remains does not give us much of a clue as to its genius.