Movie Review ~ Close to You

Countless films proving the adage ‘You can’t go home again’ have become part of cinematic history.  With their mixture of nostalgia and personal discovery, movies like The Graduate and Garden State were able to balance humor and heartfelt emotion. Still, they were very much representative of the tastes and expectations of their time.  Emerging as a modern-day counterpart to these titles, Close to You swaps the preppie weariness of maturing for the complexities of gender identity but winds up falling into saccharine melancholy.  Lacking polished, impactful dialogue, it feels like the early draft of a critical conversation on how we confront growth we may not understand. 

Premiering at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival, Close to You, Sam (Elliot Page, The East) hasn’t seen his family since he transitioned.  The band-aid must come off eventually, and he takes the opportunity to give it a rip on his father’s birthday, which is being celebrated in Cobourg, Ontario.  His journey to his hometown should be a joyous occasion, a reunion, and a reintroduction of someone standing tall in their truth. However, the event is quickly overshadowed by ignorant family members resurfacing painful memories.  Not even a serendipitous encounter with a high school friend (Hillary Baack, Sound of Metal) on the train ride home can lighten the mood in what becomes a reunion that exposes everyone to the wounds of the past.

The importance of showcasing trans narratives on screen cannot be overstated.  At a time when this community is seeing a horrendous amount of violence directed toward it and much false information being shared, creating this space for LGBTQIA+ stories in mainstream cinema is critical.  Close to You, with its potential to be a significant step forward in opening doors to these conversations, could have been a source of inspiration.  However, it’s been formed with much pomp but little circumstance.  Much of the script from writer/director Dominic Savage came from the actor’s improvisations, and these exchanges leave much to be desired.  Instead of dialogue that tackles thorny issues like acceptance and understanding with a distinct voice, the emotions have a defined ring of preachy grandstanding, brochure-ready rebuttals to the most basic insults that might be hurled.   

That’s unfortunate because the film is filled with good actors, several of whom have a vested interest in these characters.  Page, in particular, has been a public face in the trans community, and his involvement signifies an attempt to bridge the gap between misunderstanding and tolerance.  His raw authenticity is admirable, but the script’s lack of form leaves him adrift.  Canadian acting treasures Wendy Crewson (On the Basis of Sex) and Peter Outerbridge, as Sam’s parents, deliver solid portrayals of well-meaning but struggling individuals at different stops in their journey of coming to terms with their child’s identity. Baack, on the other hand, delivers a standout performance. The deaf actor creates an achingly real character who interacts with Sam, which offers up some of the film’s most genuine moments.  In these scenes, audiences get a glimpse of what the film could have been if it had leaned more into honest, unforced connections.

Savage’s direction, while aiming for quiet intimacy, often veers into areas that feel uncomfortably voyeuristic.  The camera lingers on emotional peaks past the point of impact, draining them of their power rather than enhancing it.  That same sensation of emotional drainage is felt in the script, which comes off like transcripts from therapy sessions instead of organic conversations between family members.  Characters take turns apologizing to Sam in one-on-one encounters that blend in a repetitive cycle, none of which lead to progressive closure, and combined with Savage and Oliver Coates’ sonorous, murmuring score, monotony quickly sets in.

While it aims to have a valuable conversation about reconciliation and the family we choose to take with us, Close to You’s execution feels more like sermonizing.  Its heavy reliance on improvisation may give the actors freedom, but without the tools to give the exchanges depth and finesse, the dialogue from this is unsatisfying and inconsistent with the other critical conversations around this topic.  With its echoes of the ‘You Can’t Go Home’ again type of film, Close to You makes a case for why you shouldn’t.