
2022 · Lukas Dhont
For when you need a good cry and want to earn it — a film to watch when you're ready to feel something real about friendship, boyhood, and the things left unsaid. A challenge, not a comfort, but a beautiful one.
Two thirteen-year-old boys share the kind of friendship that hasn't yet learned self-consciousness — sleeping head to head, sprinting through flower fields, finishing each other's days. Then a classmate's idle question at their new school suggests that closeness like theirs requires a name, and something between them begins to shift. It's about how boys learn to withdraw from tenderness, and what that schooling costs.
It opens in pure sunlight and gradually tightens around your chest; the emotion lives in small withdrawals rather than big scenes, which makes it hit harder. Expect to be quietly wrecked — this one follows you out of the room.
Eden Dambrine, discovered by the director on a train, gives a performance of astonishing restraint for a first-time child actor — the film's deepest feelings live in his posture, a tightened jaw, the words he decides not to say.
Frank van den Eeden's camera stays at the boys' eye level amid an industrial flower farm's ranks of dahlias, and the harvest seasons quietly structure the film — color itself marking time and loss. Dhont directs by subtraction: what's withheld from a scene is usually the point.
Winner of the Grand Prix at Cannes and an Oscar nominee, it confirmed Dhont as the leading chronicler of adolescent inner life in European cinema.
Reception & legacy: how Close was received, argued over, and remembered →
Lukas Dhont's second feature won the Grand Prix at Cannes and an Oscar nomination, confirming the young Belgian as the poet laureate of adolescent interiority. Two thirteen-year-old boys share a friendship of total, unselfconscious physical ease — sleeping head to head, racing through flower fields — until a classmate's idle question introduces the idea that such closeness requires a name. What follows is a study of how boys learn to withdraw from tenderness, and what that schooling costs. Dhont found his lead, Eden Dambrine, on a train, and draws from him a performance of extraordinary restraint: the film's grief lives in posture, in a jaw held tight, in what a child decides not to say. Frank van den Eeden's camera stays at the boys' height amid the industrial flower farm's ranks of dahlias, harvested by season — a structure that lets color itself mark the passage from summer abundance to winter clarity. Belgian cinema gave us the Dardennes' moral rigor; Dhont offers something adjacent but lusher, sorrow rendered in full bloom.
Lines of influence
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