Close (2022, Lukas Dhont) (Patreon)

64/100

That title's carefully chosen. (It's not a translation, either—Belgian film, French dialogue, English title.) I can understand why some would jump to conclusions about the nature of Léo and Rémi's relationship, given that Dhont is openly gay and his debut feature, Girl, featured a trans protagonist (though trans critics seem to despise that film, which I haven't seen); as a straight dude, I'm prone to being oblivious about queer subtext, making unconscious heteronormative assumptions. There's absolutely zero "sub" in this text, however, and Dhont deliberately makes a point of providing no clear indication of either boy's sexual preference, assuming that they've even settled upon one. Consequently, I took the film at face value, as a remarkably delicate tragedy in which schoolyard homophobia—which was rampant during my own childhood; there was nothing worse you could be called, as a little boy in the '70s, than the F word—plays a pivotal role but is neither central nor defining. Much of Close's second half plays like a more conventional version of Margaret, digging into Léo's overwhelming sense of guilt while also acknowledging that misery and loss don't occupy his every waking moment. Eden Dambrine (who should immediately be cast as Tadzio in a new Death in Venice) gives a gorgeously internalized performance, making Léo's emotions transparent without signaling them, and Dhont likewise chooses the indirect approach virtually every time, allowing weighty moments to slowly gather force via hesitation and deflection. Some find the Major Event that occurs about 40 minutes in to be a dealbreaker, whether because it reinforces a tiresome, damaging trope (if one perceives Rémy as gay) or just because it's manipulative; I was too busy being impressed by Dhont's ability to make clear exactly what happened well before it's spoken, just from worried expressions on teachers' (or adult chaperones') faces as one of them talks on the phone, followed a bit later by the sight of everyone's parents, viewed out of focus through rain-spattered windows, as the bus pulls onto school grounds. Final act kinda turns into The Son Redux, an impression exacerbated by the presence of Émilie "Rosetta" Dequenne in Gourmet's role, and the symbolism of Rémy's mom working in a maternity ward is a bit much (though The Son's carpentry was likewise a bit much). Overall, though, I was quite touched by this story of a boy who pays a dear price for succumbing to peer pressure, even in a modest way.