“Call Me By Your Name”: Film Review

Charming and bucolic, a meandering story of a summer idyll unexpectedly builds up into something deeply moving and memorable.

Summer ‘83, somewhere near Crema, Lombardy. A landscape of sleepy village squares baking in the afternoon sun, of lazy rivers to bathe in, grass to roll in, of gardens with trees bearing luscious fruit. Elio (Timothée Chalamet) is 17, nervy, restless.  He whiles away the summer at his parents’ country house, reading, swimming, playing the piano, and transcribing music. A summer visitor comes to stay, Oliver (Armie Hammer). Handsome, long-limbed, airy, self-assured, a few years older though in other ways quite boyish. Hammer later described his character as ‘a cultured individual, not necessarily well-travelled’.

Elio’s kindly father, Professor Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), makes the introductions: ‘Elio, Oliver; Oliver, Elio’.  And so, with this melodious alliteration, Elio has the painful good fortune of starting his first – and what might become his only – great love affair; it’s a love that comes to be reciprocated, to a degree, by someone kind, who understands him, becomes open to him, for a while – but who will soon disappear. 

“Call Me By Your Name” is a film which inspires wistfulness and a pang in the heart, in part because everyone can recognise in this tale traces of love stories they have lived, and some the painful state of grace Elio finds himself suspended in along with the balm of partly reciprocated feelings. Elio’s luck is that even in heartbreak, he is fully recognised and understood by those he loves and is loved by – his parents, his girlfriend, and the man who becomes his lover.

In this film, based on André Aciman’s 2007 beautifully written, urgent, evocative novel of the same name, it is the older man who is the object. It is on Oliver that the camera lingers, it is his body that becomes the subject of repeated allusions.  At one point, Elio’s father, discussing Greco-Roman representations of the male body, mentions they are “so nonchalant, hence their ageless ambiguity, as if they’re daring you to desire them”. Oliver looks up at him with some surprise, perhaps wondering.

There are echoes of Henry James, in this summer tale where things are known but not necessarily said.  At when point, when Elio talks of things that matter, Olivier asks ‘what things that matter?’ and Elio simply answers ‘you know those things’.

This moment is enough to understand the father’s intelligent sensibility, and perhaps also something he might have given up. Another scene, where an ancient bronze statue, of a beautiful male body, is retrieved from the sea, and its arm is momentarily held by Oliver, mirroring his own arm, could possibly be seen as a superfluous touch. However, it offers a clue about the narrative – whose point of view is this? The film feels like a series of recollection, episodes from someone else’s memories – not Oliver’s and Elio’s – and maybe not of a single story, a single summer. Perhaps reassembled fragments.

There are other little clues which reinforce this sense, including the use of Sufjan Stevens songs, which serve, un-ostensibly, as unaffected narration, and a nod to Proust. A moment in an attic with a peach turns out to be the modern-day incarnation of Proust’s madeleine and cup of tea.  It is heart-felt in the moment, but also elegiac.

It is rare nowadays for such nervy, hesitant longing to be felt quite so keenly and translated so well from novel to film. The story could be slight, but turns out to be taut, suspenseful, despite the absence of clear antagonists, obstacles, and if there is an antagonist, it is perhaps Elio himself – coltish, unsettled, surprised to discover how drawn he is to a quite unexpected love object. And Oliver, the handsome, statuesque future lover, hesitates; their gradual intimacy is punctuated by recurring glances and retreats. Oliver’s habit of breezily shouting out ‘Later!’ as he turns on his heels and walks off, to wherever, repeatedly infuriates Elio. 

The course of the story is less important than the detail of its significant moments. Elio and his parents pile up, entrammelled, on a sofa, as his mother Annella (Amira Casar) reads from Marguerite de Navarre’s “Heptameron”, a 16th-century text replete with aphorisms and dark stories. Annella cannot find her copy of the French original but instead a German translation, and so interprets it as she reads.  A knight, Amadour, is enamoured of a fair lady, Florida, but does not dare speak his love. “Is it better to speak or die?” he asks.  Florida tells him it is better to speak, as “a life lost can never be regained”.  In the “Heptameron”, Amadour turns out to be a predatory man, which seems a world away from the gentleness and lightness of “Call Me By Your Name”, though Elio and Oliver’s unequal relationship should give pause for thought.

The problem with summer is that it always ends, and when August is at its height, and languorous, its demise nevertheless nears fast.  And so with Elio and Oliver: they are in Eden, but about to fall out of it, and each go another way. Before they do, they live a few weeks of restive desire, hesitation, then delight, in the knowledge that soon all must be over. In one of the most affecting scenes in the film, Elio’s father offers an elegy to his son of such delicate kindness, so moving, that one is both soothed and sad.

The visual style of “Call Me By Your Name” is memorable for being elegant yet unshowy; Guadagnino brought in a new collaborator, cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, most well-known for “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.  While in essence, “Call Me By Your Name” is a period drama set in the early 1980s, it is filmed at times almost like a documentary.  The style is understated, the images on occasion almost bleached by sunlight, the photography almost drawing attention away from itself. The same is true of the editing. The one ostensibly cinematic moment is a long take in a village square, Antonioni-like, but this too, feels unassuming. There are countless delicious but understated scenes, a marked departure from the highly stylised cinematography of Guadagnino’s previous films, “I am Love” and “A Bigger Splash”. Guadagnino has mentioned Taiwanese director Hou Hsiao Hsien as an influence.

A Guadagnino film is also a film where music comes to the fore, sometimes in overly powerful ways. In “Call Me By Your Name” however, the balance is struck just right, and it is wonderful. “Hallelujah Junction“, a piece for two pianos by John Adams, is done justice here in a way that perhaps cannot be said for the way John Adams’ music was used in “I am Love”. Ravel’s “Une Barque sur l’Océan is a striking counterpart to “Hallelujah” Junction, pregnant with hope and promises of beauty to come. The film is suffused with piano music, and this becomes most pronounced in a scene where Elio winds up Oliver by playing the same piece but in different ways – as if Liszt had played around with it, as if Busoni had…

The music also strengthens the sense of time and place.  At a party, Oliver, Elio, and their friends dance away to “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs.  The early 1980s come to life – the clothes, Oliver’s shirt open just so, Elio’s Talking Heads T-shirt…

Guadagnino has said that what he most loved about making the film was the sense of place and the people he got to work with.  It is something more than, as he has said, ‘making films about people lounging about in the summer’ – even though this turns out to be a recurring theme in his films so far. He has mentioned that in development, the film had been turned down several times, because it did not follow the classic structure of coming-of-age films, that it is ‘more like in real life, that you discover yourself in the eyes of the other’. One song which does not appear in the film, but is so clearly vivid in Guadagnino’s mind, that he has said he sees it as the spirit of the film: Prefab Sprout song “All the World loves Lovers“.

All the World loves people in love, don’t forget it…

Director Luca Guadagnino
Screenplay: James Ivory, Walter Fasano and Luca Guadagnino, from André Aciman’s novel “Call Me By Your Name”
DoP Sayombhu Mukdeeprom
With Amira Casar, Armie Hammer, Thimothée Chalamet, Michael Stuhlbarg, Esther Garrel

This article contains affiliate links, which means we may earn a small commission if a reader clicks through and makes a purchase. All our writing is independent and is in no way influenced by any advertiser or commercial initiative.

nadjabeekinefile

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.