Metacritic reviews

This sort of storyline could go wrong very quickly, but thanks to some fortuitously funny moments, Vallee’s assured direction and Gyllenhaal’s spectacular performance it’s surprisingly compelling. And, let’s be absolutely clear: it’s Gyllenhaal who keeps it all together.

It’s a unique take on what could otherwise be a morbidly depressing tale of loss and grief, dishing out tons of energy and spats of devilish humor, though not always fitting its numerous parts into a succinct whole.

Gyllenhaal grounds Davis’ wildly unraveling psyche, finding both the humor and heart in a man who admits to having spent the past 10 to 12 years incapable of feeling.

Demolition spends its goodwill early on, eventually giving itself over to cheap-feeling twists and a problematic final act.

It takes its literalism to such an extreme that, at points, it's difficult to determine whether or not the film is operating with a semblance of irony.

Demolition might just be this year’s poster child for disaffected faux-indie insincerity.

A frustratingly aimless soul-search that veers uncomfortably between quirk and melancholy.

Though it’s laudable that Vallée and his cast tried not to make just another story about someone wallowing in his grief, their alternative coddles Davis’s mourning with a rampant colourfulness that’s suffocating.

Stuffed with so many strenuous editing ideas you suspect the influence of something illegal, Demolition is mainly casting about for a point, when it doesn’t feel like a wrecking ball aimed squarely at itself.

The film’s attempted cathartic payoff is inauthentic and unearned, and it’s a shame considering that Gyllenhaal once again gives a committed turn.