A story involving those dependable standbys of circa 1900 British literature: class, wealth, family, hypocrisy and real estate (…) « Howards End » is of course lovely to look at. The old brick country house, not too grand, covered with vines, surrounded by lawns and flowers, is reached by big, shiny motorcars and occupied by people who dress for dinner. But this is not a story of surfaces. — Roger Ebert

Incisively witty, provocative and acted to perfection (…) Sublime entertainment. — Peter Travers