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When it’s all said and done, Plath had the courage of her convictions, and so does this honest movie.

It lacks an incisive viewpoint and keeps us emotionally at arm's length.

Not the last word on the subject by any means, but it is a solid entry into the canon that sensibly resists beatification or crucifixion of the Ariel poet.

Good as Paltrow is, Sylvia reduces an intensely brilliant, haunted writer into a weepy, morose slacker whose overriding concern is where her husband is at all hours.

If movies were regulated like medications, the label for "Sylvia" would say: "Warning: This film is so depressing it will suck every ounce of holiday cheer from your soul."

Well acted and seriously mounted, but Sylvia the movie is, nevertheless, very boring.

Paltrow moves us as Plath, bringing poignant humanity to the character.

Excruciatingly dull. I shouted, “Hurry up and ice yourself already!” more than a few times.