Close review
Around halfway through this tender and devastating film, best friends Remi and Leo are torn apart by teachers as they wrestle and struggle in the school playground, the unspoken tensions of their fracturing friendship boiling over into physical confrontation. Entangled on the concrete floor in messy, clawing rage and anguish, this is the closest the boys will come to frank communication. The void between them has become suffocating and the pains of being torn apart inescapable. Lukas Dhont’s film will take you right back to the anxiety of the rough-and-tumble school playground, and with it, the intensity and depth of emotion shared in childhood bonds.
Close is an intimate portrait of best friends Leo and Remi, who we first meet as they play games of make-belief armies, run through fields of chrysanthemums and fall asleep side by side. What begins as a picture of idyllic young friendship is soon interrupted by their first day at big school. Loud, shouting kids surround the intimidated pair, and it’s not long before they are interrogated by an older student about the nature of their relationship - “it’s clear you’re a couple.” Leo’s anxious dough-eyes flinch and stare defiantly back as he flushes and denies the claims, seeming more shaken than Remi. Slowly, surrounded by rambunctious groups and susceptible to their pressures, Leo begins to pull away from his friend, taking cover by blending into the more macho culture of the school. As they are torn further apart, catastrophe strikes.
Dhont places us so closely in the throws of their relationship that as it shatters we flounder and squirm helplessly with them. Indeed, part of the film’s genius lies in its ability to evoke with immersive and startling effect the panicked, grating dynamics of school. Sound and colour is heightened, and we too begin to develop a childlike paranoia that Leo and Remi are constantly the subject of taunts and attacks. Frank van den Eeden’s cinematography is key to this - colours are saturated and intense, both accentuating moments of warmth and connection, but at times also feeling glaring, playing into the boys’ overwhelmed situation.
But the film falters towards the second act, which adopts melodrama and narrative tropes, focusing on the agony of separation. The pains of the friendship - rather than its aftermath - are tragic enough to have been the focus of the entire narrative. This might have allowed for a nuanced and naturalistic observation of pre-adolescent bonds reminiscent of films like Celine Sciamma’s Petite Maman. Instead the structure of the latter half feels jarring and alienating, breaking the film’s childhood-inducing spell. The orchestral score becomes overbearing, swelling during repetitive scenes that border on triteness.
But despite becoming slightly clumsy and overwraught towards the end, the emotional imprint left by Close is undeniable and Dhont’s portrayal of childhood friendship will leave you heartbroken.
22/4/22 - Lola English