By Marc S. Sanders
Mike Nichols is a director for those actors who really grind their teeth into the craft of performing with crackling dialogue. Often, he goes for what makes a person drive awkwardness into a moment. Equally he focuses on those folk who sustain the discomfort so apparent in a room. Prime examples are his classic films Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? and The Graduate. There’s even some of instances in his slap happy comedy, The Birdcage. Towards the end of his career, Nichols adapted Patrick Marber’s biting play, Closer, into a film.
Closer carries a four-pronged approach in the shapes of Jude Law, Natalie Portman, Julia Roberts and Clive Owen. Law plays Dan who catches the eye of Alice (Portman), an alluring stripper who gets hit by a car on the streets of London. Beginning with playful flirtation in the hospital waiting room, they develop a relationship mostly based on sex for the following year. Later, Dan gets distracted by a beautiful, much more mature photographer named Anna (Roberts). She rejects Dan’s horny advances and by some manipulation with online anonymous sex talk, he sways a sex starved doctor named Larry into meeting Anna at an aquarium. Then, to Dan’s surprise, Anna and Larry get married. There’d be nothing more to discuss if these four lived happily going forward. What follows, however, is a manipulative chess match of lies and deceit among the four.
One after the other disarms somebody who they valued and thought they could live with at any given time. Alice leaves Dan after he reveals an affair with Anna. Larry has a regretful one-night stand with a woman in New York. Anna doesn’t mind because she’s been having an illicit affair with Dan. Larry is miserable but begs Alice the stripper to justify his torment, assuming she’s also anguishing over being betrayed by Dan. Not likely the case as she erotically teases him in a private stripping room. This scene with Natalie Portman in control establishes as the best actor in the film.
The four players on the game board all start in their respective corners, only to go around the perimeter or advance diagonally across and pounce on what they don’t have. At any given moment someone is drawing the top card or rolling the dice, and it’ll have a direct effect on one of the other three or all of them at once.
Patrick Marber’s script gets more layered as the partners change hands, but it’s his dialogue that keeps you engaged. Alice believes “Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off – but it is better if you do.” An angry Larry confronts Anna by asking about Dan. “What does it taste like?” Anna’s reply: “Like you, only sweeter.” Ooooo!!!! Lines like these sting, and I’ve never met someone in real life who can think that quick on their feet with such savviness.
Just as in other scripts like Steel Magnolias and Glengarry Glen Ross, I think the characters in Closer (initially a stage play) speak a little too instinctively. They’re just so quick with their hurtful insults, comebacks and seething expressions. Therefore, should I like plays that perform on a higher, smarter plane; plays that work quicker than most minds can register with what to say next? Well, I appease myself with a constant reminder that a piece like Closer is more performance art than truly authentic. These four characters are so quick with a verbal jab, while engaging in some foolhardy actions that promises to make their circumstance appear worse. How can they be so smart with a comeback while acting so stupid at the same time?
The cast of four are so sharp, alert and precise. Most of the scenes in Nichols’ film are performed in different combinations of pairs. Every one of them is expertly rehearsed and Roberts, Law, Owen and Portman are of course the strongest assets in the production. However, Nichols wisely uses his lens in zoom close ups, practically justifying the quirky title of Patrick Marber’s work. I never trusted a single character was entirely genuine in Closer. How should anyone? They’re always stabbing one another in the back. However, when an actor leans in and Nichols meets their expression halfway, I’m being ordered to look that person straight in the eye. Still, I won’t know what to believe, but that’s the point.
Dan, Alice, Anna and Larry move the scenes along with question after question because every answer is so dubious. You’ll likely never get a more skeptical response when a common inquiry such as “Do you love him?” is asked. It can be frustrating, but thanks to the cat and mouse play of Mike Nichols’ stage direction, on film, I wanted to dig deeper into the bottomless rabbit hole.
You might conclude there is a surprising twist at the end of the film. I don’t know if it holds much weight to what I learned during the course of the story. Nevertheless, it reinforces the theme of Closer. Being bad can be fun, offering an immediate high, and part of being bad is lying and betraying, and maybe the ending reveals who actually won this board game with four players at the table.
Look Closer and tell me what you think.
