Closer

"Thank you for your honesty. Now fuck off and die...you fucked-up slag." 

Closer broke through with a couple moments featuring the wide-eyed, should be James Bond, Clive Owen. He's a man. A caveman. Brooding with self-loathing, getting duped into cybersex by Jude Law. Damien Rice's The Blower's Daughter provides a melancholy undertaste to this dark, dark film about the nature of chance, trust and love, if such a thing exists.


Most adults live and breath and believe they exist on a higher plane. As a consequence, there have been countless movies that profess to portray the harsh realities of relationships. Most of such films are melancholy drivel. Closer is, by and large, no exception. But the diamond in the rough is this scene with Owen and the Lips Manless clone Julia Roberts. Owen wants every last detail of his woman's affaire. And he gets it.

I'm not going to tell you how to react when you bust your lover/girlfriend/wife. But at the end of whatever course of action you choose, try this one on and see how it fits: "Thank you for your honesty. Now fuck off and die." If you can muster any sort of english accent or brooding masculinity (tough, though it may be) you'll come out ahead in my book.

Here's hoping this never happens to you. But if it does, go ahead and take solace in the stripper who can spread her legs as wide as you like. She's probably a Harvard grad.