There’s a scene in Closer where Natalie Portman’s character, Alice, describes a photopgraphy exhibition she’s at:

It’s a lie. It’s a bunch of sad strangers photographed beautifully, and… all the glittering assholes who appreciate art say it’s beautiful ’cause that’s what they wanna see. But the people in the photos are sad, and alone… But the pictures make the world seem beautiful, so… the exhibition is reassuring which makes it a lie, and everyone loves a big fat lie.

That pretty much sums up Closer for me. It’s intriguing on one level but on another level it’s a pile of self indulgent, pretentious, over wrought bullshit that disguises itself as an insightful study of love, lust and relationships.

It might have been different if I’d actually have given a fuck about any of the characters but the only ones I probably could have cared about (i.e. the two female characters) weren’t given any screen time by themselves to flesh out their characters. This might have worked well on stage but, even though Patrick Marber adapted it from his own play, it didn’t make a good or interesting film. Many reviewers have said that this was one of the best films of 2004 but I can’t help thinking it’s a case of the Emperor’s New Clothes.