Filipe Furtado’s review published on Letterboxd:
A dumb movie about Wright own mixed up feelings about his profound love for a past image. Almost everything up to the first night works on the strength of Wright’s more shallow talents, it builds the wavelength of Mackenzie’s infatuation with those images well enough, but then it crashes down when turns into yet another lousy Repulsion knock-off. It turns out Wright is far too literal to really pull off subjective horror and that it remains a real hard line to sustain when Mackenzie is given a character that is more effective rendered as a pale image on a mirror. The main problem is not so much that Last Night in Soho is a good guy self-serving apologia for loving naughty movies, although it is that too, but that it has no idea about why those images are appealing for him. The climax is beyond stupid, there’s not a good beat in this movie’s final 30 minutes, and everyone who point out that it undermines whatever it might have to say about misogyny is right, but I’d say it just highlights how little the film is really concerned with it.