Metacritic reviews

Through Short’s American Songbook jazz, I knew about the place long before I ever visited New York. And Miele’s documentary lets us know it even better, even if we can’t afford the cheapest rooms (not head-spinningly expensive). That would be, of course, the “Harrison Ford Suite.”

Dazzling, sometimes hilarious and surprisingly emotional documentary.

As docs go, it’s not as informatively or entertainingly good as it should have been and not as shamefully self-serving as it could have been, but as wistful as it made me feel about the New York I once loved that will never come again, it put a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

[An] insightful and occasionally revealing look at the 88-year-old Manhattan institution where the rich and famous enjoy being rich and famous.

Though sometimes it seems like a promotional video, the film offers a glimpse into the vagaries of class, culture, celebrity, and social mores since the hotel was first established back in 1930.

Discretion may be a virtue in the upscale hospitality business, but not in documentary film. If you are going to make a movie that hints at scandal and celebrity gossip and behind-the-scenes glamour, then it’s not too much to ask that some secrets be revealed and a glass or two of juice poured.

Turns it into a 90-minute infomercial, with nary a revelation in sight.

Each moment in Always at the Carlyle feels like a pitch. Though it's effective in presenting the hotel's appeal, the salesman's greasy fingerprints linger, a stain which would never be welcome at the pristine spot.

The doc is so eager to tell you who's visited the hotel and eaten at the restaurant (JFK allegedly trysted here, which didn't keep his widow from enjoying the Cobb salad) that it shares very little about the hotel's origins and operations.

A tone-deaf celebration of Manhattan’s ritzy Carlyle Hotel.