In The Summer Book, director Charlie McDowell adapts Tove Jansson's beloved novel into a gentle meditation on grief, aging, and the fragile bond between generations. It's a lyrical film-sometimes to the point of drifting-but at its heart is Glenn Close, delivering a performance of such understated depth that she almost single-handedly gives the story its pulse.
Close plays the Grandmother, a fiercely independent, slightly mischievous woman living on a small island in the Gulf of Finland. Her days are spent exploring the rocks and tidepools with her young granddaughter Sophia (played with remarkable naturalism by a breakout newcomer). The pair's adventures range from light-hearted to painfully honest, as they navigate both the landscape and the unspoken absence of Sophia's mother.
What makes Close's performance so remarkable is how completely she disappears into this salty, weathered character. There's no trace of the regal ferocity she's known for in roles like Dangerous Liaisons or Fatal Attraction. Instead, she embodies the Grandmother's playful stubbornness and quiet sorrow with a lived-in authenticity. Her eyes often do the heaviest lifting-whether sparkling with delight at discovering a new bird's nest or clouding over at the memory of her daughter.
Close also resists any temptation to sentimentalize. The Grandmother is blunt, sometimes abrasive, and her relationship with Sophia is as much about learning to give space as it is about affection. But in small gestures-a hand on a shoulder, a sudden grin after a shared joke-Close reveals the profound tenderness beneath the brusque exterior.
It's the kind of performance that reminds you why Glenn Close is one of the greats. While the film's pacing may be too languid for some, Close's work ensures The Summer Book resonates long after the credits roll. Her Grandmother feels as timeless and elemental as the island itself-a testament to Close's extraordinary ability to root even the lightest narrative threads in deeply human truth.
