I rarely award a film a perfect score; it takes something truly exceptional to earn that kind of praise, and my reviews generally stem from either extreme disappointment or genuine admiration—I suspect many people feel similarly about movies, you either connect with them or you don't. Close is one of those rare films that’s easy to champion, an outpouring of passion evident not only in its narrative but also in the artistry of filmmaking, acting, and storytelling itself. It functions almost like a careful examination, a skilled analysis of youth experienced through the perspective of two boys grappling with significant pain. The film offers a remarkably perceptive commentary on the prejudices that take root within human nature from the very beginning. It illustrates how ingrained bigotry can erode innocence as soon as children enter broader society, particularly through schooling, and it serves as a harsh critique of what we have become or failed to achieve. The story demonstrates how deeply entrenched prejudice can shatter an innocent affection between two boys, highlighting how harmful comments from women contribute to aggressive behavior in men, combining to undermine the boys' understanding of their friendship, unjustly tarnishing it and fostering feelings of paranoia and defensiveness. It’s a familiar narrative: the deplorable way envious onlookers attempt to destroy what they cannot possess because they lack that capacity. As a viewer, it’s frustrating to witness homophobia directed at an innocent connection during childhood—a preemptive attack on closeness, on brotherly love. The frustration arises from how pervasive homophobia is in both girls' and boys' upbringing – a form of bigotry used to target close bonds and innocence as if to protect the world against any male affection that might evolve into something more. There’s considerable acclaim surrounding this film, and the writer/director Lukas Dhont possesses an undeniable talent that many critics seem reluctant to fully acknowledge. At a young age, he has created a work that likely leaves others in the industry questioning their own approaches and wondering where they fell short. While Hollywood dominates the movie business largely due to financial resources, Lukas Dhont, much like earlier French cinema, has illuminated what film can and should be—and by comparison, it exposes the limitations of typical Hollywood productions. It’s a stark contrast between fast food and fine dining. Drawing another parallel with a similar exploration of loss, I previously praised Aftersun highly. Having now seen Close, I believe Aftersun is comparatively basic, and I wonder if the fact that Close is in French/Flemish might be hindering its recognition compared to Aftersun, which, while deserving of praise, simply isn’t on the same level—not even remotely close. For anyone seeking to learn about cinema and storytelling, acting, and direction, Close represents a benchmark of excellence—a masterclass in perfection. Be prepared for it to deeply affect you.

Source on TMDB