Clive Arrives: Clive Owen's dark, witty turn in 'Closer' could get him an Oscar nod. Or make him the next James Bond. Or both. By Sean Smith Newsweek Nov. 29 (2004) issue - Here's a surprise: of the four actors in "Closer," Mike Nichols's new film, Clive Owen is the least famous, but he delivers the most memorable performance. In this ensemble drama about seduction and betrayal, the 40-year-old Brit, star of last summer's "King Arthur," squares off in major scenes with Julia Roberts, Jude Law and Natalie Portman, and does more than hold his own. He dominates. Of course, it doesn't hurt that he gets some of the best lines in this Oscar contender. In one scene, Law, as a sniveling, cheating novelist, whines to Owen, "You think love is simple? You think the heart is like a diagram?" Owen snaps back: "Ever seen the human heart? It looks like a fist wrapped in blood. Go f--- yourself, you... writer!"
Which is strange, because he's not exactly a cutup to interview. Sure, he's pleasant, but it's hard to imagine him generating guffaws. ("We did have a laugh or two," he admits, when he's told what Roberts said.) No matter: it's what Owen conveys on screen that counts, and "Closer" puts him in serious Academy Award contention for best supporting actor. That's impressive, considering that two years ago most of America—including the film's director—didn't even know who he was. When Nichols, director of "The Graduate" and last year's mini-series "Angels in America," began casting "Closer," based on the play by Patrick Marber, Owen wasn't on his radar, even though he had starred in the play's original London production. "I didn't know about Clive," Nichols says. "Patrick introduced me to the idea, and then I saw 'Croupier,' and I said, 'Oh, my God. Of course. That's the guy'." A lot of people who saw "Croupier" had that reaction. The 1998 film, about a struggling writer who gets sucked into the world of casino gambling, became an indie hit. Suddenly the door to Hollywood kicked open. Owen had worked on the London stage—where he met his wife, Sarah-Jane Fenton, playing Romeo to her Juliet ("It's the schmaltziest way you can meet somebody, I think"). Then he walked away from the British TV hit "Chancer" to take his chances in film. It worked. Since "Croupier," his dark, brooding intensity has scored him pivotal supporting roles in "The Bourne Identity" and "Gosford Park," and the lead opposite Angelina Jolie in last year's ill-fated "Beyond Borders." It has also earned him the honor—or the curse—of seeing his name constantly floated as the next James Bond. He seems perfect for it, but Owen says the studio, MGM, has never approached him. "It's nothing but rumor," he says, "and to be brutally honest, if they did come out and offer it to me, I have no idea how I'd react." How about saying yes? He laughs. "Well, there are far worse things to be associated with." He's managed to stay in pretty good company so far. "Closer" is A-list on every level—though it's hardly the feel-good movie of the year. Over the course of the film, two couples (Law and Portman, Owen and Roberts) meet, fall in love and then destroy each other, and themselves, with infidelity, narcissism and vicious honesty. The most heartbreaking, sickening scene to watch is one in which Larry (Owen) learns that his wife (Roberts) has been cheating on him with Dan (Law). In minutes, Owen transforms from gentle, wounded man to enraged, wounded animal, forcing Roberts to tell him every graphic detail of her sexual activities with Law. When she does, he spits at her, "Thank you for your honesty. Now f--- off and die, you f---ed-up slag!" Yeesh. "When we did the play," Owen says, "that was the scene where people would sometimes just get out of their seats and leave." He chuckles. "To me, it was always the most exciting in the play. I'm one of those strange ones, I guess, but it doesn't worry me to go to those places." That ability to reach into the dark, and to redeem it with wit, could earn him a place on the Oscar stage come February—even if he's not as funny as Roberts says he is. ©
2004 Newsweek, Inc. Images thanks to clemato |