Directed by Dominic Savage | Written by Savage and Elliot Page | 100 min | ▲▲▲△△ | Crave
A capsule version of this review ran on FITI during the coverage of the Atlantic International Film Festival 2023.
Close To You is a very Canadian film — shot in the greyest of Southern Ontario winters, where being outside for too long makes you wonder if summer ever happens in a place like this. It’s about a trans man, Sam — Elliot Page back on the big screen where he belongs — who escaped his family and small town somewhere up to 401 to Toronto. He transitioned, and now is returning home for a birthday celebration for his father (Peter Outerbridge).
As he makes his way to where he grew up, anxious about what awaits, he crosses paths with a high school ex, Katherine (Hillary Baack), with whom he has unresolved feelings.
His siblings and their partners pussyfoot around him, even when they mean to be supportive the inadvertent awkwardness feels entirely true to life. One brother-in-law in particular is aggressive and resentful, the kind of attitude that makes you just want to punch him. These scenes with family — and they’re clearly improvised — they really work. When Sam’s mother (the always excellent Wendy Crewson) says something like, “I just miss my little girl,” the collision of earnest honesty with painfully cringe threatens to shatter the bonds of blood.
Less compelling is the subplot around Katherine, the high school sweetheart. There’s not much chemistry between these actors — it’s a struggle to even buy they’re the same age.
What’s most off-putting here is Savage’s insistence on hand-held camera and chronic close-ups throughout — it’s an artless aesthetic, giving the picture a weird claustrophobia that doesn’t wash with its themes. But Page elevates the entire production with his performance — he brings the authenticity the picture desperately needs.
It’s not hard to understand why he was drawn to this material, and he makes Close To You worth seeing. Otherwise it’s a film that seems strangely unfinished, an extended acting exercise with ad hoc production values rather than a complete narrative, but carried by the complete honesty in the performers’ emotions.
