I loved it. My mum - a discerning art house-filmgoer at 84 - hated it for the violence, which she always hates.
It was one of those classic recursive paeons of love to cinema by a director utterly consumed by the form. The attention to period art direction was meticulous, even if the script & acting didn't quite follow suit. The ending was inevitable from within the first hour.
FWR: Free Willy with willy.
I kind of agree. My issue is that I think that in his consumption of and by the form, he lost track of the script and acting far too much.
I thought the ending revelation where, it transpired, the heroine has gills, which she herself hadn't known was masterfully subtle.
I hope that was written in blue ink, Smiffy, cos I had it taped from the first mention of the scar. I mean, hell, the movie starts with her wanking in a bath...