Close My Eyes (1991)
La Dolce London
7 March 2000
Writer and director Poliakoff has had a variable but often remarkable career in television mostly, with landmarks 'Bloody Kids' (directed admirably by Stephen Frears) and 'Caught On A Train'. His work as a director as well as a writer has been arguably less successful with the recent 'The Tribe' being laughed off the screen despite the sell of a naked Anna Friel, and the critically mixed reviews of his serial set in a photographic museum. His plots tend to have hard to swallow fancies to them, and this is no exception. Life tough and fractured in the modern financial jungle? Roll about on the floor with your sister, after all you haven't seen her for years. Then blow this up in some way to include aids and pretentiously tie the outcome to the fate of humanity, not to mention your actual middle classes. There are many puzzling aspects to this film, not least the overbearing photography and wallowing in architectural richness. There's got to be a reason, it just escapes me.

Poliakoff's script is efficient and always interesting, despite the cringe factor, but it's the performances that make this film so strange and memorable. Clive Owen has cut a curious path in British telly, sharing with Paul McGann a sort of 'new man' image, especially in 'Chancer' where he was seen snuggling up cooeing to his baby son stark naked in bed. "Aaaaaah," went several thousand female hearts. Owen is an interesting, even brilliant actor. He doesn't act with his voice, which is often kept low key and naturalistic, but through his face. He's one of those gifted actors who can portray deep emotion and anguish with a mere inflection. He is partnered with the equally able Saskia Reeves, and together they burn up the screen, especially in the blistering climax. It's at moments like these you really admire actors and the way they make the magic happen.
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