Ah, the anguish of rich white people. In The Wife, the jerk is Joe Castleman (an excellent but contemptible Jonathan Pryce) and his wife Joan (Glenn Close in an Oscar-worthy performance) is the sufferer. It’s a good thing Close is so good, because her work may keep you from realizing until the closing credits that The Wife is kind of dumb, with plot twists as subtle as a kick in the crotch and the sort of woe-is-me baloney that plagues movies about people who take themselves too seriously. But Joan has a legitimate reason to resent Joe, as they journey to Stockholm so he may accept the Nobel Prize in literature. Along for the ride is officious reporter Nathaniel Bone (Christian Slater, who can still do smarm with the best of them), a writer hoping to be Joe’s biographer. It all ends inevitably but predictably, as Joe once again takes something from his wife that she truly deserves (and I’m not talking about fame). Joe is truly an awful person, and he’s supposed to be, but be prepared: If Close weren’t so brilliant, The Wife would be insufferable. By David Riedel