I’d like to begin this review in a way that seems entirely implausible and perhaps a bit silly: I want to formally apologize to Glenn Close. I have never appreciated her fully, and have consistently failed to recognize her extraordinary talents. Perhaps it was her career constantly being given the scraps of her contemporaries (or rather, the perception that this was the case) or the fact that I had never been truly moved by her – but I had never given her the praise that she so truly deserved. I’ve been overly critical of her in the past, but tonight I realized that Glenn Close cannot be ignored any longer. She is one of her generation’s finest performers and someone who towers above the very contemporaries against whom she has been so unfavourably compared over the past few decades. I have always known this, it was only recently that I realized that I did.

It was Dangerous Liaisons that caught my attention, but it was The Wife that made me realize how tremendous a talent Close actually is. I will admit that my praise for Close throughout this review will be excessive – I need to compensate for years of dismissing her. However, I truly do believe that The Wife is not only Close’s finest performance, it is one of the best performances of the year, one that could eventually rise to be a pinnacle of cinematic performance, a masterclass in subtle, nuanced acting. Therefore, having gotten that out of the way, let’s discuss The Wife, a film I did enjoy very much, for a number of reasons, not least the central performance, which I will readily admit will take up the most significant space in this review. There is a lot to like about The Wife, but Close is the major reason this film soars in the way it does.

The Wife is about Joseph Castleman (Jonathan Pryce), a world-renowned writer who has been revered for his novels that have defined the worldwide consciousness for decades. He receives the news that he is to be honoured with the Nobel Prize in Literature, an achievement he had expected to receive, but not without still feeling some shock. His proverbial ‘partner-in-crime’ is his wife, Joan (Glenn Close), who he regards as his inspiration and his muse, having met her decades before when he was her writing professor, endlessly impressed by her brilliant writing skills, which he doesn’t realize he will very soon rely very heavily on. The couple, along with their son David (Max Irons), an aspiring writer in his own right, soon fly to Stockholm, where Joe is set to receive the prize. Over the next few days, Joan finds herself struggling to feel the thrill that a spouse of a writer set to receive literature’s highest prize normally would. The reason is simple: she is constantly pushed aside as the “long-suffering wife” (to use her own words), a trophy that Joe carries along with him, someone tagging along with a more successful partner.

Joan, defined by the public merely as “the wife”, hides a big secret: it is her, not Joe, that rightly won that prize, although no one actually is aware. For decades, she wrote the novels that were published under Joe’s name, with him receiving all the credit, never giving any public acknowledgement to the true writer. It pains Joan to stand alongside her husband, not only because his fame is fraudulent, but because it comes at the expense of her career. Years before, Joan was a youthful, aspiring writer in an industry dominated by men – and despite her potential, she had to put aside her desire, finding a way to get her talents acknowledged, even if under a name other than her own. It resulted in decades of being dismissed as merely Joe’s wife. The trip to Stockholm, as painful as it is, proves to be a turning point for Joan, who decides it is time to address the issues that she has been bottling up for years. However, how does she confront the truths, and how does she deal with the anxiety brought on by years of being backgrounded as merely a supportive, loving spouse, when in actuality everything Joe is and is loved and acclaimed for, is because of her?

I could pretend that The Wife is not successful solely because of Glenn Close. I could gently assimilate her performance into the discussion by way of talking about other aspects of the film, and gradually moving towards mentioning her dynamic achievement here. Yet, I feel inclined to be extremely honest, and part of that entails admitting that The Wife belongs unequivocally to Close, who is beyond astonishing here. Giving the finest performance of her career, Close commands the screen in a way I have rarely seen before. There is something about Close that I realized when I watched this film – no one does quiet intensity quite as well as her. Whether with a passionate speech, or a wordless expression, she smoulders with vigorous force, conveying the despair of this character with potent brilliance, and demonstrating her exceptional adeptness at finding the depths of every character she plays.

This quality has been true of Close throughout her career, but it is most evident in The Wife – it is built on her powerful performance that is as poignant as it is thunderous. There isn’t much else that really can be said about this film that does not go back to Close in some way, and while I will attempt to explore the thematic depths of this film, as well as some of the other performances in due course, The Wife is a showcase for Close, who quite simply extraordinary – subtle and ferocious in equal parts. The resentment in her character festers gradually, resulting in a third act that left me agape. This is a film that will convert even the most cynical of viewers because it managed to finally prove to me how savagely talented Close is. There are good performances, there are great performances, then there is Glenn Close in The Wife. Who would’ve thought Close would get such a defining role at this point in her career?

Moving on, because The Wife, while vehemently the property of the titular character, is more than just Close (a complete and utter lie, just so you know), and it features another great performance, albeit one that doesn’t come close to hitting the impossibly high notes Close did. Jonathan Pryce has been constantly underappreciated, and despite being an exceptionally hard-working character actor, his career has been built as that of a reliable supporting player, which is a shame, considering his involvement as the lead in one of the great science fiction films, Brazil, as well as countless other amazing films that were improved significantly through Pryce’s presence in them. This film serves to be the very performance that Pryce needed because it gives him a more central role, and while he arguably exists in this film to serve as the subject of Close’s despair and disdain, he is as terrific as he could have been, and he comes very close to rivalling Close, being a formidable opponent to her remarkable performance, the steadfast sparring partner she needed in this explosively intense character drama.

He and Close have remarkable chemistry, and even on his own merits, Pryce stuns as the egocentric writer who refuses to acknowledge his entire career, as well as the reputation that comes with it, has been built on decades of fabrications and deceptions. He has some great moments on his own, and while Close towers over him at every available opportunity (as was the intention, I’m sure), Pryce manages to hold his own, and admirably gives a fully-formed, meaningful performance in a film that demanded someone who could give a memorable portrayal without detracting from the more pivotal performance. Much like The Wife made me re-evaluate my perception of Close, it also gave me a newfound appreciation for Pryce, an actor who has made some good choices, but not given the respect his talents deserve. The Wife is a film revolving essentially around two characters, and while Close is the heart of the film, Pryce is also pivotal. I’m obligated to mention Christian Slater and Max Irons are also in this film, and while not particularly consequential to the film as a whole, they are still very good, albeit not on the same level as Close or Pryce.

Initially, I went to see this film because I heard it was a revelatory moment in Close’s career, and thus I wasn’t expecting much other than a powerhouse performance from the veteran actress. There are not many films that put older actresses in a lead role, let alone one that is not focused on the plight of being an older woman, but rather on themes far more profound. I was not expecting such a powerful film, one that is built on the foundation of the astounding performance from Close, but also not limited to merely being an acting showcase. Based on a 2002 novel by Meg Wolitzer, it is a deeply intimate drama that looks at complex themes, most significantly the role of women in the arts. By contrasting two different eras (1992 and 1958), the film explores the distinctly sexist nature of the arts, as well as society’s perception of women. Someone like Joan is defined not by her own merits or achievements, but rather on those of her husband. It begs questions about the role of the individual in a harsh, unforgiving society, especially one as hostile and soul-crushing as the art world. It is a film primarily about the survival of the self, and how one finds valuable self-respect when it has seemingly evaded them for years.

It is deeply frustrating and excruciatingly bleak, and the film is considerably downbeat throughout as we explore Joan’s growing turmoil as she realizes that her dedication to her husband and her fears that she will be rejected based on her existence as a woman in a male-dominated world were all in vain. Its the old adage, but it is one that bears relevance here: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. No one seems to know this better than Joan Castleman, who is doing her best to remain optimistic, but cannot elude the truth any longer, even if it brings an end to everything she held so dear – her husband, her tranquil existence and her aspirations, which she realizes had been rendered redundant the moment she agreed to put love and commitment to her husband ahead of her own potential career as a groundbreaking artist, years before. The Wife could be seen as a scathing indictment on the literary world, and how certain individuals are put on pedestals, all the while those who helped them get there are either unintentionally ignored, or dismissed outright. It exposes the artifice of the life of an artist, albeit one that has received recognition, perhaps even too much. It is a subversion of the traditional “starving artist” narrative and explores the world of artistry from a far more cynical and unique perspective.

Yet, The Wife is more than that. It is a deeply-intense character-driven drama, a powerful cinematic duet between two extraordinary performers. The simmering tensions underlying this marriage become more evident as the film progresses, and the complex deception that had been woven throughout the years begins to unravel as Joan decides to finally take a stand and prove that she is more than just the supportive wife – she is a woman who put everything aside for her husband, who subsequently treats her exactly the same as how others treat her – an accessory to a great artist. There is so much that can be looked at in this film beyond the performances, and the story is a great feminist tale that is as bleak as it is empowering. I recognize that I sometimes rely too heavily on hyperbole, but considering I have already called Close’s performance the work of celestial intervention, I might as well carry on the excessive praise by saying that in many ways, The Wife reminded me of the great social European dramas, insofar as it is a character-driven drama filled with twisted deception, unbearable tension and palpable manipulations, as well as having the quality of being consistently on the verge of violent implosion. It is a film about a woman emerging from the depths of the shadows of her famous husband and realizing her own worth, and fighting her own shortcomings relentlessly in her attempts to regain her self-worth, which is the only thing she requires after realizing that she will never get the acclaim she worked so extremely hard to get for her husband.

The Wife really is a terrific film, and the majority of that is because of Glenn Close. I was astonished by her performance, and it left a truly indelible impression. It has made me appreciate it her so much more, and I can finally understand why she has persisted as one of the most respected performers of her generation. Her silence throughout this film resonates and makes a statement that will surely strike a chord for anyone who feels sidelined by virtue of who they are, rather than having their achievements acknowledged. This is a film about the dangers of devotion, and how the pursuit of love and dedication can have troubling consequences, even decades later.

The Wife is a moving, human drama, and one that is driven entirely by its existence as a compelling, simple film without any need for excess, but rather a simple but effective story. It challenges the audience to reconsider their own lives as past and present interact and merge together in this passionate story. It exemplifies the notion that sometimes the most effective films are the ones that are quietly riveting and straightforward. It may not attract much attention based solely on its appearance, but once the viewer gives The Wife a chance, it draws us in and keeps as mesmerized with its effortless blend of a beautiful story, sensational cinematography and dedicated performances from a cast led by the volcanic Glenn Close, who quite simply has never been better (this point is repetitive, but I stand by it with steadfast conviction). An extraordinary achievement, and one of the year’s most compelling films. I just cannot get this film off my mind, which is only indicative of its unconditional brilliance.