Stream It Or Skip It: ‘This Closeness’ on MUBI, A Gen Z-Tinged Take on the Erotic Drama

Data shows that young viewers today prefer “nomance” of platonic relationships to steamier, seedier tales about people and their sexual desires. Kit Zauhar’s This Closeness, a true indie now streaming on MUBI, thrives in the grey area between these two modalities. On the one hand, it’s a film that thrives on the dynamics of people talking to, at, and past one another. On the other, the threat and tease of sex is never far from the surface … always threatening to bubble over with the heat turned up just one notch higher.

THIS CLOSENESS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: A young couple, ASMR influencer Tessa (Kit Zauhar) and journalist Ben (Zane Pais), converge on Philadelphia for his high-school reunion. This Closeness never shows those moments. Instead, it lingers inside the apartment where they’ve rented a room and are attempting to coexist with its tenant, Adam (Ian Edlund).

The two camps are not at all sequestered, and harmless throwaway interactions between them begin to take on more meaning as Tessa grows increasingly discomfited by Ben’s behavior slipping back into his more adolescent mode. When Ben introduces a different energy into the space by bringing back an old schoolmate, the chatty Lizzy (Jessie Pinnick), Tessa responds by leaning into trying to understand why her host might be the way he is.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Think of a combustible domestic drama in the vein of Mike Nichols’ Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? or Closer. There’s no special effect quite like people forced to share an uncomfortable space – and a camera that won’t let the audience escape it, either.

Performance Worth Watching: Every performance is remarkably attuned in the film, but it’s Ian Edlund who has the trickiest job as the most inscrutable dweller of the space. His Adam manages to be awkward without overdoing it and mysterious without being outright creepy. Edlund walks the tonal tightrope nimbly.

Memorable Dialogue: This is a movie where the silences and unspoken thoughts speak louder than the words, though that’s not to say Zauhar is a slouch when it comes to dialogue. The punchiest line land with an even greater blow because they are few and far between, such as when Tessa is asked why she wants to belong to Ben as his partner. “Because it means I’ve won,” she offers in a moment of revelation that indicates defeat as much as strength.

(Honorable mention: the closing credits, which use a folk-inspired cover of JoJo’s “Too Little, Too Late” to send us out of the story.)

Sex and Skin: By far one of the most fascinating elements of This Closeness! Young audiences today have expressed a certain skittishness, if not outright prudishness, when it comes to depictions of sexual intimacy on screen. Zauhar doesn’t deny the erotic charge buzzing between the characters, but the camera often seems to dance around showing bodies as sexual entities in a way that doesn’t just scream “nudity clause” for the actors. It’s all the more shocking, then, when a character wields sexuality like a weapon of attempted jealousy at the end of the film. Here, Zauhar lets it rip with a fixed camera angle of two copulating individuals that resembles a homemade porn tape.

Our Take: An obvious point of comparison for This Closeness will inevitably be its lo-fi millennial forebearer, the mumblecore movement. No shots at the awkward talky subgenre that gave us Greta Gerwig, but Kit Zauhar makes naturalism feel … well, a little more natural! Her direction is remarkably clear of fussiness or preciousness as she charts the deterioration of trust among the trio. Without declaring its importance, This Closeness feels like the very film that will be studied as an embodiment of its era down the line with its unpretentious snapshots of gender, sexuality, and intimacy.

Our Call: STREAM IT! This Closeness makes a full meal of human interactions without ever needing to resort to sensationalism. And, better yet, Zauhar’s self-contained drama feels like just the appetizer for a great career to come.

Marshall Shaffer is a New York-based freelance film journalist. In addition to Decider, his work has also appeared on Slashfilm, Slant, The Playlist and many other outlets. Some day soon, everyone will realize how right he is about Spring Breakers.

Watch This Closeness on MUBI