Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Movie: Closer (2004)

For some reason, I’ve been pronouncing the title of this film as if I’m repeating the flawed conventional wisdom about John Kerry (“He’s a strong closer”), when it’s actually a description of proximity intended ironically. Proof that I’ve seen GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS far too many times.

This adaptation of Patrick Marber’s acclaimed play never escapes its theatrical origins: four characters in various pairings speaking graphically about sex and not so honestly about love. But Mike Nichols, unlike most directors, doesn’t shy away from the staginess of the piece. Instead of “opening things up,” he narrows the focus on this roundelay and their exchanges. As a result, it takes a while for the characters to reveal themselves to us. But once they do, hide all the breakables.

Jude Law’s Dan is the most contrived figure of the quartet, and the actor is never able to transcend that limitation. Natalie Portman tries gamely as Alice, but she always seems to be playacting. Portman came across as older than her years in films like BEAUTIFUL GIRLS and THE PROFESSIONAL, but in her first truly adult role she seems very young.

Julia Roberts is as good here as she has ever been, ditching her usual mannerisms and playing the recessive Anna close to the bone. And Clive Owen is simply spellbinding as Larry. (He originated the role of Dan on the stage.) His presence seems to galvanize his costars; each has their best scene opposite him. Screw all the rumors about Owen becoming the next James Bond. He’s too valuable a resource to waste on a moribund franchise – and I say this as someone who still sees every Bond movie.

TV: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Is it me, or is Santa a huge jerk in this show? In fact, everyone in a position of authority at the North Pole is something of a pill. And the show is riddled with bad writing: Yukon Cornelius, the Han Solo figure (roguish and solely interested in material wealth), falls over the cliff with the Bumble to a certain death. Then he turns up alive all of ninety seconds later. Why kill him at all, then, if you’re not going to milk it for suspense?

Yet I still watch this special every year. Nostalgia is a lethal thing.