The return of the prodigal son is an enduring staple of indie cinema – only here, there’s a difference. He’s a trans man, played by Elliot Page in his first film in seven years, and his first since transitioning (he came out as a trans man in 2020).
As he returns to the movies, so his character, Sam, is returning to his childhood home from Toronto for the first time in almost five years. While reconnecting with the lost love (Hillary Baack) he meets on the train, Sam meanders through encounters with family members, wrestling with their protectiveness, incomprehension or contempt. That, in terms of story, is about all we get, but the story is not the point; Close to You is a character study that sharpens periodically into polemic.
Director Dominic Savage developed the movie in a similar way to his female-led Channel 4 anthology series, I Am, co-writing the outline with his lead actor, before filling it in through improvisation. If the film makes clear the perils – as well as the positives – of that approach, it is lifted out of the ordinary by its honesty, its disruption of a familiar formula, and Page’s excellent performance.
We’re introduced to Sam in the city, standing by the kitchen window, shirtless. The camera lingers on his scarred torso, before panning up to his resigned expression; we cut to him putting on his clothes, rearranging the contents of his pants. This isn’t mere visual exposition, but a statement of intent. If trans people’s bodies are to be treated as public property, then this is Page, co-author, co-producer and star, seizing the initiative, openly satisfying audience curiosity while unapologetically saying, “Here I am.”
What follows is slightly shapeless and light on incident. It is also, at times, quite extraordinarily compelling. Sam’s heart-to-heart with a sister coughs up the film’s message in a single line (“You weren’t worrying about me when I was actually not OK”), before a truly touching two-hander with his dad that clambers out of disjointed mundanity towards something lovely. “When you finally called … it was probably one of the happiest moments of my life,” his father says, and Sam’s world-view shifts a little, tears falling, lips pinching into a rare smile.
Close to You is at its best, though, when its hero bares not just his soul but his teeth. That opportunity is afforded by antagonist Paul, the fiancé of another sister. During their first flare-up, Paul boasts that it’s not his style to leave things unsaid, and Page slips thrillingly into the sardonic delivery familiar from Juno (2007). “Oh it’s not, is it?” he smirks. “You’re just really radically honest and vulnerable all the time?” In their second head-to-head, that drollness erupts into wounded anger. Paul, angling for an argument, claims he doesn’t know all the “rules” about what you’re allowed to say to trans people. “What are you talking about, ‘rules’?” asks Page. “Like, I’m just a fucking person.”
The specificity – and broader resonance – of that scene is invigorating but does expose the film’s shortcomings elsewhere. While the improvised approach can create a realism, especially in the moment and in the dynamics between characters, it results here in a wider vagueness, and some banal dialogue.