Not quite up to the script

Rating: 6/10 (3 February 2005)

It's so rare that we get to see a film made by adults for adults, that it's a pity to report that Mike Nichols's Closer doesn't quite come up to the very high standards that Patrick Marber sets for it. Marber's screenplay, adapted from his own stage version, is full of verbal sparrings which invite over-playing, and I think Nichols's deliberate attempt to under-emphasise the carnality of what takes place, letting the words work for the actors, so to speak, is what lets the film down. For once, I think that the script could do with more opening up from its theatrical origins, taking the action out of rooms, apartments, studios. The music is also spartan (which I would normally welcome), leaving the dialogue with much to do. The camera work is mostly static and head and shoulder, allowing for the very remorseless examination of the characters' reactions and motives which the script demands, but making for a one-dimensional experience.
For such a distraction-free approach to work to succeed in the cinema (the closeups may be softened by smaller screens), performances need to be of the highest order. In this case, though none of the A-list actors by any means let themselves down, their characters' duplicity and self-deception does not transfer from dialogue to action. The only clear motive that we see expressed is for Natalie Portman's character to leave (having had an unambiguous slap from Clive Owen); but earlier, we are asked to believe that Clive will have the hots for Natalie (because he suddenly strokes her face), and that the Julia Roberts character will deceive Clive for Jude Law because they stop talking and start kissing during a photographic session. Oh, and Julia and Clive will get married, but their initial meeting (contrived by Jude, or accidental ?) intimated no such thing.
The result, as many people have commented, is that we find it hard to care very much about these four people and their love and sex lives, to the point where the one (love) and the other (sex) become inter-changeable. Tellingly, though the characters repeatedly ask each other to be truthful, demanding not so much faithfulness as full reporting, it's hardly surprising that neither they nor we understand what has happened. Rather than the intended dissection of relationships, we get an intimate but unrewarding closeup of four characters doing things that come of as much a surprise to them as it is to us.
It's a pity that four such able actors have been reined in to such an extent. For what might be tantrums and breakdowns we get a series of tautly scripted two- and three-handers, with never so much a spilt glass of wine to break the rhythm. Julia Roberts's performance is better than she usually is allowed to be (how she must long for parts such as this), and Natalie Portman shows just how much potential she has for the more fully developed roles to come. Jude Law is good in a bookish sort of way, but is once more not allowed to (or maybe can't) work over much against his looks. He also needs to stop walking like that (the first time I have noticed how ungainly he is). Clive Owen is a bit of a disappointment, perhaps because his anger and spite, not to mention lust, bangs so hard against the other three.
I was not shocked or disgusted by what these fickle four get up to, or say to each other. But I was disappointed that so worthy an attempt to give us a truthful depiction of adult relationships falls into the chasm between exposition and character. For example, did the stage play make use of the Alice/Jane name device, or was this tacked on for the screen ? If so, what was it meant to explain about the Natalie Portman character ? It added nothing that I could see, but maybe I just didn't care enough.