Call Me by Your Name

Apricot trees. Ringing pianos and indistinct family chatter. Trails of cigarette smoke. Childish laughter and bicycle bells. Chirping birds and old stone fountains. A gentle blanket of sun soaks the leaves. It’s summer, 1983. Seventeen-year-old Elio finds himself drawn to Oliver, his father’s research assistant from America who has travelled to Elio’s family home in Northern Italy.

As the soothing, lazy summer warmth oozes through the screen, we’re made privy to a tantalising dynamic of knowing glances, loaded dialogue and subtle touches that culminates into a relationship that forces Elio to come to terms with both his youth and his sexuality. The soft charm of their suburban European chic breeds this breezy dolce vita that serves as a gorgeous lens through which to view such a delicate relationship. It’s a warming, sensual screenplay that it takes its time and never decides to bite off more than it can chew, and yet it remains a focused narrative. Timmy gives a knockout performance, but looking beyond that, Call Me by Your Name still finds itself as one of the most tender and potent films of its generation – a modern classic worthy of its reputation as a touching, sobering take on young queer romance.

Unquestionably one of the best films of 2017, Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name evades the most conventional definitions. It is a coming-of-age story, a story of self-discovery, the story of the erotic and romantic relationship between the two main young characters – Elio and Oliver –, but it is also much more. Other than an obvious triumph for the queer community, with an almost certain Oscar nomination, following the steps of the Jenkin’s 2016 gem Moonlight, Call Me by Your Name is a hymn to the uniqueness of the human ability to feel. The final speech by Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), Elio’s father, will easily become one of the most iconic and unforgettable monologues in the history of modern cinema: a poignant and moving anthem to human fragility and to the marvel of the pure, unsuppressed experience of emotions.

The film, set in northern rural Italy in the 1980s, ensures that the audience is completely absorbed by its setting: it is not set in the stereotypical, outrageously colourful 80s that we are used to see on the big screen, but in the 80s of daily life. Many of the costumes and set decorations come from the actors and crew’s own homes and wardrobes (peep at Guadagnino’s own ‘50s dishes), or local stores, allowing for an even deeper secret intimacy between the characters and the setting.

The soundtrack, consisting of 80s Italian and international tunes, piano arrangements of classical pieces and singer-songwriter Sufjan Steven’s original songs, acts as a companion to the audience, taking us by our hands and carrying us on the same emotional journey of the two protagonists. With a cinematographically simple, yet extraordinarily powerful closing scene, which ends the film on a melancholic note, it is hard to find a flaw in Guadagnino’s most recent film. The perfect example of a probable future classic, and consequently a must-watch.

Marta Meazza