Close To Vermeer movie review (2023)

We know a lot more about Rembrandt, Vermeer’s contemporary, than we do about Vermeer. Rembrandt was prolific and versatile; his work was clearly influenced by Italian masters—all those huge shadowy portraits—and he almost obsessively put himself into paintings, the Dutch Golden Age verge of a selfie. Rembrandt experienced much success in his life. 

Vermeer, on the other hand, had modest success and was not prolific at all. His paintings are all quite small in size and feature the same rooms, exquisitely rendered in tiny detail. In each, you see the same light sources, the same utensils, and maybe even the same people. He clearly painted people he knew intimately, and his primary subjects were women. There is no distance in approach from his subjects, no idealization or overt flattery. They are seen in homey settings, making lace, playing the virginal, sipping wine offered by a suitor. These are not “court” paintings. The experts here are all very good teachers.

There’s something soothing about “Close to Vermeer.” I’m the daughter of a rare book collector, a man who spent his free time tracking down books (mostly by Irish authors, primarily Francis Stuart). He’d show us the copyright page of his latest acquisition, and explain why it was relevant. He’d tell us stories about the publication, he’d gently turn the pages, treating the book with respect. This was the air I breathed as a child. And so there’s something soothing about listening to people sharing their knowledge, helping us understand why something is rare or special, unique or valuable.

In a world of “hot takes” and uninformed “takedowns,” where expertise is increasingly de-valued across the board, the experts in “Close to Vermeer” are a comforting bunch. They know a lot, they share what they know, and they help us to not just look at a Vermeer, but to see.

Now playing in theaters.