Attraction, infidelity, romance.

When Patrick Marber's Broadway success hit the stage, a writer advised that it was not a good idea to go and see it with a loved one. Go with a friend instead. The same advice could be offered in relation to this film adaptation. It's a classy affair, but don't go with your loved one. If the distributors wanted to be wicked, they would have opened on Valentine's Day.

Jude Law plays an obituaries writer, who falls for Nathalie Portman's free-loving stripper. Going out with her, he finds a secret moment to chat up Julia Roberts's photographer before engaging with Clive Owen's doctor, masquerading as a woman in an Internet chat-room.

Imaginatively filmed in London, there's a lot of fun to be had spotting all the locations. One of the leading ones is the London Aquarium, where a chance meeting brings together two of the four characters who previously have not met.

Closer is taken up with these four - who is seeing who, who wants to have sex with who, and whether those being pursued will give in to temptation. Snappy dialogue and great one-liners, plus a magnetic cast, are all BIG pluses. It's reported that Portman was asked to do nude shots for director Mike Nichols, but, at the final editing stage, she managed to persuade him to leave them on the cutting-room floor. Quite right on the whole - Portman happily manages to give off oceans of sex appeal without needing to reveal all. Sorry chaps, even I had to reluctantly admit this to be true.

It has been accused in some quarters of being a cold film that does not move far enough away from its theatrical origins. It may appear cold because of the way the characters indulge in their love affairs. As to its framework, Nichols is constantly moving from one location to another to give it a greater sense of drive, unlike other films converted from plays.

Where it does seem manufactured is in the worlds they inhabit. Law seems to have a lot of time on his hands when he's supposed to be a press hack. Roberts is able to stage an exhibition with decidedly average photographs blown up to giant size to make them seem significant and Owen is able to buy a lot of Portman's time as a lap dancer when, if she really was one, you imagine there would be a queue around the block for her services.

It's easy to play along with Marber's essay on love when it is delivered by such a stellar cast in the hands of a class director. To cap it all, the songs of Damien Rice are on the soundtrack.

If you're into films about sexual entanglements and the nature of present day affairs, make a date with this one. A cast, providing eye candy for both sexes, is just one of its attractions.