Oculus's relentless demolition of reality and perspective is unsettling and easily the film's most compelling component, but the writers unfortunately use said device as an excuse to forgo any story deeper than the film's own 30-minute short film source; there's 30 minutes of actual storytelling, and all the rest is repetition and filler pointed at further obscuring perspective at the expense of further exploring it.
If The Grand Budapest Hotel is an indication of Wes' current status in filmmaking, he's fallen into comfort with the directorial machinations that have made him famous and that his last three films have suggested he's being overcome by. There is no substance in this film, no fluidity or narrative means. It's built on thin characters whose purpose is only to serve the style's quirkiness and not at all the film's story, and beyond its integrity, it's a boring movie of cheap chuckles.
Frances Ha clearly fancies itself belonging among the elite French New Wave films, and it's slightly embarrassing. Is it mocking the tropes of that period, or is it attempting to add contemporary commentary to them? The balance seems to be heavily tilted toward the latter, but the latter isn't accomplished at all. There's no filmic or thematic consequence to the story like was typical with nothing-much-happens nouvelle vague arcs, and the failing point is that Frances Ha depends on that that to not be the case.