"“A poignant and effective study of romance and all of the foibles that inevitably come with it...”"

“In your twenties, it’s charming to be up and coming. In your thirties, it’s pathetic,” is the most memorable line in Ira Sachs’ autobiographic piece Keep the Lights On, where the honest filmmaker has depicted the story of a turbulent relationship; and one that is both charming and pathetic in equal measure.

Set in Manhattan, we follow the on-off relationship between filmmaker Erik (Thure Lindhardt) and Paul (Zachary Booth) – a closeted lawyer who carries an unhealthy predilection towards crack cocaine. Their highly-charged relationship had originally begun as a mere fling, but as time progresses the pair soon realise living without one another seems an almost implausible task, although in many ways, living with one another poses equally as many difficulties, as we take a frank look into the dynamics of a relationship between two troubled souls.

Keep the Lights On is a brave piece of filmmaking for Sachs, especially given it’s an introspective piece of the American’s own life experiences, as the line between what is art and cinema becomes blurred, as Sachs uses the medium of film to candidly express his emotions and his own identity on screen. Also, regardless of your sexual orientation this film remains extremely easy to relate to, in that it portrays issues that exist in so many relationships; that of two people who love and adore one another but simply struggle to find a working dynamic that sees them both find pleasure and gratification from their romance. Universal themes such as commitment and addiction come into play as well.

There is however confusion within the narrative which devalues the pair’s relationship somewhat. For example, we jump from it being a mere, sexually charged fling to a full on, intense relationship with little explanation nor reason in between, which is a shame, as it seems we are almost missing the whole falling in love section, which is often where opinions are formed in regards to their compatibility and commitment. There is also confusion surrounding Paul’s closeted sexuality, as it becomes increasingly difficult to comprehend if he is hiding his homosexuality, and if so, who from exactly.

The performances are fantastic however, particularly by Lindhardt, who plays the role of Erik convincingly but without edging towards caricature, remaining subtle and understated in his approach, portraying an incredible amount of vulnerability to his demeanour. You just can’t help but really like Erik – which is important as empathising with him allows for us to feel closer to him, thus making it easier to get into his head and to understand him. I’d quite like to see where Erik is now. On second thoughts, I suppose I do know where he is – he’s just made an autobiographical movie called Keep the Lights On.

The one big criticism of the feature is that not a whole lot is gained, as we veers towards repetition and tedium when approaching the latter stages. They love each other. No wait, they don’t. Oh they love each other again… It does actually grate on you after a while. It’s like playing the “he loves me, he loves me not” game on the world’s biggest flower. However that aside, Keep the Lights On remains a poignant and effective study of romance and all of the foibles that inevitably come with it.