Mornington Crescent

In 2005 I watched Closer (2004) five times during a direct flight from Heathrow to Auckland with one stopover in Singapore, on the screens of the seats in front of me between other passengers' headrests, no sound, and never from the beginning or through to the end. It was better that way. Patrick Marber's dialogue, adapted from His Play, is of the I-come-bearing-gifts school of flashcard repartee and benefited from the shake-up. Even after 20-plus hours in the air it was easy to see where the characters would land. All four speak like a Bond villain, Julia Roberts is less pretty than Jude Law, Natalie Portman cannot fake London chic and Clive Owen has never appeared threatening to anybody. But streaming it now Mike Nichols' vision of the pre-Brexit capital is pure nostalgia: a darker, grittier Notting Hill, pre-Facebook, safe as houses.