It’s been three years since I saw this masterpiece for the first time, and I'm not the same person since then. I always define movies that changed my perspective on life as poems, rather than a sequence of frames, a medley, rather than a usual story to be told. Close is a visual poem, a painting of innocence lost and the unbearable consequences of a single question.
Topics like brotherhood, friendship, soulmates, and adolescence have been portrayed in the media multiple times. However, they can never sur Close. Before I get into the core beauty of this film, it is significant to mention that the Western media succeeded in brainwashing people, making us believe that every rare interaction we see in male friendships signifies something else. Like in Close, a moment where Leo leaned his head on Remi’s shoulder, which was an act of pure boyhood, friendship, and brotherly love, was overanalyzed, criticized, and later on, broke two worlds and families apart.
Art can be interpreted in any form, but the original meaning behind it remains above all interpretations. It is important to realize that if the filmmakers never intentionally introduced a subject in their films, then it means that it doesn’t exist, and no perspective can change that.
To me, Close is for us to understand the pain of growing up in a world that rushes to define things that should simply be. It speaks to anyone who has ever lost something not because it was broken, but because the world couldn’t let it exist as it is.
The Language of Color: Red (Remi) & Yellow (Leo)
Color is the unspeaking narrator of Close. Remi is red, and according to the science of colors, red indicates characteristics such as deep, emotional, and intense, just like Remi, who never wore any color but red during the film. He was a quiet flame that warms and eventually burns a whole forest.
On the other hand, Leo is yellow, bright, and energetic, but it also means caution and fragility. It was not until recently, while discussing the film with my film friend Sara, that she mentioned Leo’s color was yellow. All that time, I thought it was white for multiple reasons, such as a symbol of his emotional status: empty. However, that was not the case, as I explained above.
The way these colors are woven through their clothes and surroundings isn’t random. Red clings to Remi like his unexpressed emotions, and yellow surrounds Leo, full of movement and brightness, but always on the edge of fading. There was a scene where they were sleeping together on the same bed: Remi was facing the red walls of his room, and Leo’s back was facing the sun rays escaping from the window. Together, they cast a colorful rhythm, the palette of their beautiful friendship. These colors aren’t just palettes; they are identities, a clear description of who they are as friends and individuals, and when their friendship begins to unravel, it's as if these colors begin to clash, no longer blending, no longer safe.
The last time we see the color red cast on Leo was right after he was told that Remi died, specifically when he was walking alone at night, stabbed in the heart by the sharp reality that his soulmate is no longer here. Even when Leo saw the door that locked Remi’s body, the frame was filled with both red and yellow shadows. When Leo visited Remi's room, probably months after his death, the walls cast a red shadow on him again, and for the last time, making me realize that this color, Remi, is within him now, not around him. Red is the color of Leo’s memories with Remi.
There was a scene shown before Remi’s death that, to me, was a clear hint of what would happen to his character: the scene showed a field of red flowers being mowed down during the night, no dialogue, no clear signs, just red flowers being removed from the soil, and that was Remi, removed by Leo from his life, without a goodbye, quickly and in silence.
The Fall of a Pure Bond
What breaks this world is not an event, but a question, a simple, careless question at school, and suddenly, innocence is shattered. The tragedy of Close isn’t just that Leo pulls away; it’s that he’s made to believe he must. This leads me to dissect his character to understand his response and reaction and compare them to Remi’s.
When the question was asked, Leo’s reaction was quite defensive; it made him create an unconscious shield against the threat of otherness to protect himself. That question triggered a chain of realization he never thought about! It made him realize that the purity of friendship, of sleeping beside someone you trust, or sharing a wind sound story to calm them, must be “something else,” and so, he distances himself, not from Remi's actions, but from the weight of other people's gazes.
In developmental psychology, adolescents would do anything to belong, no matter what; it’s their living nightmare to be viewed as “different,” and I believe that was Leo’s biggest fear during that time. He was terrified of losing his chance to be from the “us” group instead of the “them" group. He was convinced that his pure brotherhood love for Remi must either be redefined or die, and he chose the second option.
Remi didn’t care much, he didn’t overanalyze what they said because he knew that his friendship with Leo had nothing to do with the category those girls identified them as, he knew by heart that Leo is the dearest to him because he’s his soulmate, and nothing further, he couldn’t figure out why Leo started creating that distance between them, which indicates that he never experienced the thoughts Leo faced after that question, and therefore, he kept getting closer to him, because this is what he’s used to, what he wants: to be close to his friend.
I must mention that Remi had his own mental problems too, he was suffering, and Leo was his only escape alongside his family, when Leo drew the line between them, he was left with the voices that only Leo, who mimicked the sound of the wind, could stop.
My friend Sara said that after rewatching Close, she went back to search for the last interaction between Leo and Remi, and she found out that it was during the exam, where Leo kept staring at Remi from a distance, then was caught by the teacher and asked to lower his gaze, and that was it…that was the last glance.
Remi’s death was the end of this friendship, but the beginning of Leo’s unexpected journey. When Leo was told that there’s something wrong about Remi, the first question he asked was “is he at the hospital?” which indicates that he didn’t expect him to be gone, he didn’t realize until that exact moment that this is what he caused.
Parallels and Echoes
The film is full of parallel scenes that mirror the emotional clash between the boys, most hauntingly, the field, which was their sanctuary, the place where they used to imagine enemies running after them, where Remi’s parents would chase them during the day, where all their laughter echoes were buried under the soil. At the beginning, Leo and Remi run together, laughter carried by the wind, like two birds in sync. It was a dance of brotherhood, but by the end, Leo runs alone. The field is the same, but the meaning, colors, and beauty have collapsed; the absence is louder than any dialogue. Close, in that moment, was basically grief in motion.
Another echo: Remi's music, my favorite scene, where Leo watches Remi play his instrument—that moment is so intimate, not romantic, and vulnerable and doesn’t hold any meanings beyond pure iration. And I believe most of us experienced this moment, where you look at a friend, shining so bright that you wish you could make them live this moment, see their beauty through your eyes. Leo doesn’t just watch; he sees him, and that’s what’s so rare.
Then there's the bird story: when Remi couldn't sleep, Leo, sensing his anxiety, tells him a tale about a special bird, comparing it to Remi, and then he mimics the wind with his mouth, a soft, whirling lullaby of care… I could write essays just about this scene, and it’ll never fully express the beauty it holds.
Lastly, the running scenes through the flower fields and the moments of them riding their bicycles have always carried a deeper meaning for me. Early on we often see Leo and Remi running together, sharing pure and unfiltered joy, yet even in those playful moments, Leo would usually run ahead, leaving Remi behind, and the camera would follow Leo, capturing him alone for a few fleeting seconds. This visual choice subtly hints at the underlying rhythm of their friendship, and it foreshadows the emotional distance that will eventually grow between them, suggesting that Remi’s presence, once so central, is quietly beginning to fade from Leo’s story, which was heartbreaking to realize.
Later, after their first argument, which is the circular fracture in their friendship, the visual dynamic shifts as they ride their bicycles to school. We now see Remi ahead, driving faster than Leo, and this time, the camera follows Remi instead, staying close to him. To me, this change in focus is not random, it marks Remi’s moment of realization. It is as if, for the first time, Remi senses the shift between them, the widening gap, the new loneliness he must now understand. The way the camera isolates him in this scene underscores his growing awareness that something essential has been lost, and that he is now moving forward without the comfort of their faded closeness.
Leo and Remi’s Mother
The silence of Leo’s guilt was not performative; it was paralyzing. Of course, he never meant to hurt Remi, but what hurts the most is that he couldn’t stop the consequences of what he didn’t say and what he didn’t stand up for. Guilt was holding him under its tight grip. And then there’s Remi’s mother, who, I believe, saw Leo as her second son, the only person in whom she could see Remi’s reflection, the only one who re her son as he was. Their relationship is gentle, unspoken, yet profoundly important. To Leo, she represents safety; she doesn’t have all the answers, and that makes her the actual reflection of Leo. I think they both grieve in the same way, with guilt, shame, self-blame, and silence, showing people expressions they don’t really mean and saying things that don't explain what they actually feel.
It was quite devastating, watching Leo live with this loss while clinging to her, the mother of his friend, who he believed he caused all that pain to. I think Leo prohibited grieving; he didn’t allow himself to fully express his emotions and thoughts and probably believed that he didn’t deserve to let it all out because he caused this; therefore, he must deal with this pain alone, in silence.
The only way I think he expressed some kind of self-punishment was through ice hockey, which then broke his arm, the crack that Leo’s pain started escaping from. Then we see him crying while getting a cast. He cried, not from physical pain alone, but because it was the fall that woke him up: “Remi is actually dead, and I am the reason!”
Close is a masterpiece in stillness. It captures the pain of growing up in a world that rushes to define things that should simply be. This film is my kind of art, one where meaning isn’t told; it’s felt! where colors are rhythms, silence is a scream, and eyes are pits of emotions. It’s a film where a boy running alone in a field, looking behind his back as if he heard the echoes of his friend’s laughter and rushing footsteps, says more than any line of dialogue could.
Written and edited by the talented Fatima Fahd ( future film critic and amazing writer)
check out Fatima's Letterboxd for more of her phenomenal writing! ( gyllenlloey)
