Pretensioso e asséptico, nem a catarse final da protagonista nos faz acreditar que há vida neste filme, não obstante o belo embrulho.
Julia Leigh's adaptation of her novel about a student drawn to prostitution is an elegant, if occasionally preposterous, debut. (...) It is technically elegant, with vehemence and control, though often preposterous, with the imagined classiness of high-end prostitution and art-porn cliches of secret sexiness in grand chateaux: shades of Eyes Wide Shut. (...) To some, the situation may call to mind Almodovar's Talk to Her or perhaps the denouement of Dennis Potter's Brimstone and Treacle. But there is force and originality in Leigh's work. Sleeping Beauty is an impressive technical display, though no more than the sum of its parts.
Anyone still describing “Sleeping Beauty” as an “erotic drama” after its Cannes premiere can only have seen the marketing materials and skipped the movie; its atmospherics wound so tight that the breaking of a glass elicits an actual gasp from the viewer, we’re too busy fearing for Lucy to be remotely titillated by any of her exploits. Perrault’s Sleeping Beauty needed only a kiss to retrieve her from indefinite slumber; in Julia Leigh’s exciting, upsetting, only occasionally over-determined debut, such simple intimacy seems light years away.