Lilli Keeve
Since his breakout role in 2007’s indie sensation Juno, Elliot Page has consistently appeared on big and small screens, continually showcasing his phenomenal talent. More recently, he stars in the Netflix series The Umbrella Academy as Vanya/Viktor Hargreeves. In his latest feature film Close to You, directed by the BAFTA award-winning filmmaker Dominic Savage, Page received a story and producer credit, as most of the film is based on intimate and personal stories from his life.
The most striking aspect of Close to You is how effortlessly Elliot Page carries this flawed movie, delivering a powerful, emotionally resonant performance that reinforces his status as a gifted artist, collaborator, and actor. Working from a script void of dialogue and consisting of only scene outlines, Page and the other actors had the creative freedom to improvise (which didn’t entirely work in the film’s favor). Even though Close to You meanders and, at times, indulges in its reflective nature, Page’s magnetic presence is its saving grace.
Page plays Sam, a trans man who returns to his quaint hometown of Coburg for his father’s birthday after nearly five years of living in Toronto. While on the train, Sam rekindles an intimate connection with an old flame—a now-married woman named Katherine (Hillary Baack) with two children. One of the film’s themes hones in on grappling with how things change over time and how true connections never fade. Page and Baack are close in real life, which lends to their palpable chemistry and authentic and believable interactions. The pair are a delight to watch on screen and their heartfelt exchanges are the film’s core strength. However, Savage chooses to place more emphasis on Sam’s complex relationship with his family instead of giving more screen time and depth to Sam and Katherine.
The movie, which played at TIFF last year, occurs during a typical bleak and frigid Canadian winter; a fitting atmospheric metaphor for the coldness that seeps through the town. Savage captures some gorgeous scenery—a wintery, almost magical glow casts itself over the sky. As Sam arrives at his family home, there is an instant awkwardness. They are unsure of how to act and what to say; dancing around the imminent topic of Sam’s newfound identity (and absence from their lives). He remains an outsider—even in their loving attempts to make him feel welcome. In a tense dinner scene with the husband of one of Sam’s sisters, he immediately has to defend himself for even existing. The hostility exemplifies that not everyone is comfortable with Sam’s choice. Sam refuses to shoulder others’ ignorance and unwillingness to be genuine and storms out of the house.
With such a grand emphasis on the nuances of familial dynamics, the intention that Savage aims for falls completely flat. The close-ups are mostly reserved for Page (Savage’s muse), so the reactions and facial expressions of the other family members are captured in a detached manner. Another technical element that lends to this distance is that the lighting in the house is often too dark and the characters’ faces can’t be seen clearly. Furthermore, the improvisation with Sam’s siblings’ is the least interesting aspect of the movie aside from a telling moment with his sister, Kate (Janet Porter), who expresses that even though they shared the same room growing up, she barely knew him. The dialogue is clunky and dry, as the characters aren’t fully fleshed out, but a few distinct lines stand out.
When Sam intimately opens up to his father, Jim, (Peter Outerbridge), it’s imbued with sensitivity and honesty. Their private conversation gives a profound glimpse into the pain that each of them felt when a younger Sam was severely depressed. His father remarks, “You were so sad and the last thing a parent wants is for their kid to be sad.” For the first time, Sam feels seen by his father whose approval he always longed to have. His mother, Miriam (Wendy Crewson), is sensitive and caring and wants her son to be happy. There’s a sense of catharsis during this visit home where Sam mends unresolved wounds and gets a glimpse into his parents’ grief and empathy. From a developmental standpoint, Sam doesn’t outwardly progress as a character since his journey is primarily an inward one. Still, these raw conversations with his parents are necessary and elemental to his healing.
Reconciling with one’s identity and feeling at peace with who they are is a key theme in Savage’s film. Sam feels more at home as a trans male than a female, mirroring Page’s personal experiences in his life. Page’s performance is nuanced yet powerful, marked by many wide tracking shots of his character walking around Coburg, ruminating on his past, the places he used to go, and the person he once was. There is a beautifully melancholic tone to these sequences, yet they linger in their indulgence.
Despite an overabundance of close-ups, there remains a vacancy and distance as if Savage hesitates to let the viewer wholly in on the deepest parts of Sam’s soul. The inconsistencies in the time frames of the family scenes and when Sam and Katherine are spending time together were jumbled, hesitating to abide by a coherent structure. Page and Savage are an effective duo who undoubtedly recognize the innate intricacies of human nature and have important thoughts to share. Even with Page’s compelling performance, Close to You lacks an overarching resolution, memorializing it as a hollow drama with tinges of warmth and depth sprinkled throughout.
