The Wife

The story is eventually revealed to be a tad far-fetched, but its events make it a page-turner, and Close is not its only first-rate performer.

Her name is Joan and his name is Joe, suggesting that the boundaries between them are blurred. It is that blurring this movie explores, with a performance of mingled rage, guilt, passion, and integrity by the magnificent Glenn Close.

The Wife is an insight into long relationships, the way men and women heal and hurt each other. There are moments here that all husbands and wives will recognize. But the biggest reason to see this film is to experience the power of Glenn Close.

At least The Wife has Close in its favour, not to mention timeliness.

This is a small, neat story, slipping in the fatal compromises the Castlemans have made along the way as sharp period snapshots, and its backward glances at the boys' club of American fiction are alternately sad and funny.

Close plays Joan in a deliberately enigmatic fashion.

Regardless of whether you are looking for drama mixed with superb acting, The Wife is simply not the film to scratch that itch. It is a miscalculating, dreadful, and painfully boring way to spend one hundred minutes.

The film has its faults, but Glenn Close’s performance ensures that it is also sincere and convincing.

With her doubts acting as a juxtaposition to the legitimate chemistry and sense of love between the spouses, her character is fascinating, but Close is what makes the role so astonishing.

“The Wife” is about the men Joan gets to liaise with and the women who stereotype her. It forces you to take a hard look at the stifled voice of an artist and the infinite instances of male privilege and its selfish undercurrents.