Reviews provided by RottenTomatoes
New York Times:
Whatever their actual intentions, I'm Still Here does take on, at times forcefully and effectively, the pathological fallout of the Entertainment Industrial Complex.
I'm Still Here is a picture of spoiled entitlement, but its real impressiveness comes with its unusually mature sense of pacing.
What I'm Still Here most resembles is a less slick, less witty, feature-length version of HBO's Entourage, with several unusually raunchy touches...
If this is a documentary, it's a profoundly embarrassing one, in which Affleck has exposed Phoenix's soul and found it shallow and damaged.
Parts of it are close to genius; most of it is actively torturous to watch.
Rarely has the question of a documentary's artifice mattered less. I genuinely hated this picture, almost as much as I've admired Phoenix's work.
If we're truly witnessing the unraveling of a talented man in his prime, it's just sad. If it's all performance art, though, it's just pointless.
Chances are the joke is on us. The problem is the joke isn't very funny. In fact, it's kind of vile.
The movie understands that his Last Honest Man in Showbiz routine is really a performance -- even if it's one the actor himself is only dimly aware of.
Joaquin is simply adding to the ugliness, encouraging the fools, and wasting everyone's time.
Joaquin Phoenix and Casey Affleck push the edges of celebrity spoof in a mockumentary worth watching.
Los Angeles Times:
A glum and dispiriting counterfeit of reality that turns out to be much more interesting to speculate about than to actually watch.
If the movie is a fake, the filmmakers deserve Oscars for creativity.
New York Daily News:
The whole thing is such a tedious, foul-mouthed mess that it isn't even worth discussing as a riff on the Bob Dylan doc Don't Look Back or a meditation on slovenly semi-madness.
New York Post:
When I'm Still Here reached its climactic moment -- Joaquin Phoenix puking into a toilet -- I had never before felt quite so much like a toilet.
A meditation on a life lived in the public eye, I'm Still Here is strange, riveting, and occasionally appalling stuff, any way you look at it.
It's not well-done technically -- the image and sound are bad -- but it has the advantage of access to private and tormented moments.
I'm not sure I believed a word of this film. Actors who melt down on camera are usually, well, acting. But I couldn't take my eyes off I'm Still Here.
San Francisco Chronicle:
I'm Still Here is like watching the 15 minutes in Boogie Nights where Dirk Diggler tries to become a recording artist, stretched into a full-length movie.
The worst thing about I'm Still Here is the fact that it exists.
Minneapolis Star Tribune:
Since Phoenix spends half the film with his head down, mumbling and shirtless, I'm Still Here is literally (and figuratively) an exercise in navel-gazing.
Globe and Mail:
No doubt what we witness is a performance for the camera, but with what motivation? Or is the hoax a hoax?
In the great Joaquin debate -- is he crazy like a loon, or like a fox? -- the smart Hollywood money is on fox.
The film is made up of half-formed sketches in which Phoenix comes across like a childish crank who's escaped from his soap box at Speakers' Corner.
Whether truth or folly, it's not particularly well made. Even in the midst of Phoenix's most oddball and obsessive torment, it's boring.
An utterly fascinating experiment that apparently blends real and faked material to examine notions of celebrity, mental stability and friendship.
Perhaps it goes without saying that Here was more provocative when it couldn't be seen, when it existed for most of us purely in the realm of rumor.