CLOSE

Directing: A
Acting: A
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A
Editing: A-

Close is very subtle, deeply relatable, and wholly affecting. It has a naturalistic style, in both performance and execution, so penetrating that it’s hard to shake.

It’s almost not worth mentioning that its director and co-writer, Lukas Dhont, previously made a film about a trans girl whose depiction was wildly controversial. Almost. As a cisgender gay man, Dhont is tackling nuanced themes in Close that he is far more qualified to explore—and in this case, he does it very successfully.

At first glance, Close is about intimate, but platonic, friendship. It’s the kind of movie I have long wished there were more of: telling stories about close friends, particularly among men or boys. Léo (Eden Dambrine) and Rémi (Gustav De Waele) have the kind of friendship I never had but have long wished I did: one that is not sexual, but comes with it a casual physical intimacy. Léo and Rémi share a bed when Léo frequently spends the night. When they lounge in the grass, one will use the other’s torso as a pillow.

The thing is, these two boys are thirteen years old, a fraught time of adolescence indeed, and the slightest deviation in a relationship’s seemingly perfect rhythm can upset things catastrophically. I did not realize, going into this film, that the inciting incident would be a subtle form of homophobia: Léo and Rémi are just starting the school year, and it is immediately clear to their classmates that they are inseparable. A couple of girls casually ask if they are “together,” and Léo immediately reacts defensively. And in the ensuing scenes, we see him slowly, but unmistakably, distancing himself from Rémi.

One of many things Dhont deftly handles in Close is the way adolescents experience feelings that have no tools to articulate. Something is definitely happening between these boys, but neither of them knows or understands exactly what. We, as observers in the audience, are the ones who understand: Léo is afraid of being misjudged by his peers; Rémi is deeply saddened and doesn’t know for certain why. It’s heartbreaking to watch, and will make you recall your own cherished childhood friendships that fell apart without explanation or warning.

One night when Léo is spending the night with Rémi, he decides he wants his own separate bed, and when Rémi tries to get into the bed with him, they get into a physical struggle that stops just short of turning into a fight. On the grass at school, Rémi lays his head against Léo, and Léo scoots out of the way.

Close takes a fairly shocking turn about halfway through that I did not see coming, and drastically changes the nature and tone of the film overall. I’m still trying to decide how I feel about it, because it becomes about something more than, or maybe even different from, just the idea of a close adolescent friendship drifting apart. A film about only that would have been deeply relatable on its own. Furthermore, so little occurs in the first half to offer any sense of the turn of events that’s coming, I wonder if the story even justifies the shift. On the other hand, one could argue that is part of the point: how deeply emotions are felt by adolescents, in ways not easily clocked by the adults around them. Particularly when they are boys.

Regardless, the story sunk into my psyche with startling effectiveness, aided to a significant degree by Frank van den Eeden’s dazzling cinematography, and stunning performances by the two young leads. Eden Dambrine, incredibly, was discovered by Dhont on a train ride, and wound up getting the part and carrying the film with an incisive understanding of a character experiencing a range of difficult adolescent emotions. Gustav De Waele has every bit as much onscreen charisma, and his shorter amount of screen time left me hoping I would soon see him in something else.

There is a moment when Rémi’s mother asks Léo, '“What happened between you two?” This is the crux of the conflict in Close, because the answer is complex, and a thirteen-year-old just doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain it. Only gradually do things like love, guilt, or regret become clear even to oneself. For this to be the road taken toward self-actualization makes for a cathartic experience.

Questioning innocence can have tragic consequences.

Overall: A