Call Me by Your Name Screen 88 of 27 reviews

Call Me by Your Name

2017

Call Me by Your Name Poster
  • He also charms everyone almost instantly–except for the awkward adolescent Elio, who at first views this swaggering interloper with a mingling of contempt and envy. What unfolds between them is, in Guadagnino’s hands, a kind of languorous hypnotism, a meeting of spiritual ardor and tender physicality.

  • There are moments when Mr. Guadagnino’s visual choices seem unintentionally in competition with the quieter, intricate emotions that his actors put across so movingly. He can be discreet to the point of coyness (bodies sweat but don’t necessarily grunt), but it is finally the insistent delicacy and depth of emotion that makes these characters so heart-skippingly tender.

  • Filmed in luminous 35mm, as attentive to the colors and sounds of nature as it is to the beauty of art, architecture, and yes, Armie Hammer, this is the kind of movie you live in as much as watch. Some of its images—Hammer’s Oliver dancing with unselfconscious abandon, Chalamet’s face in extended close-up in the stunning final shot—stay with you afterward like memories of your own half-remembered romance.

  • However evasive their language, their bodies know exactly how to communicate after this initial admission, including when to pause and when to linger. The seconds that precede a deep kiss between Elio and Oliver rank among the sexiest of screen caesuras, a respite during which a spectator is invited to recall similar scenarios she may have found herself in, even while her attention remains focused on the bodies, the lives, the desires of the two men in front of her.

  • Guadagnino has continued to refine the sensibility evident in his lush dramas I Am Love (2009) and A Bigger Splash (2015), and proved himself to be a master stylist and storyteller. Set in the sun-dappled Lombardian countryside in the mideighties, this portrait of a brief but extraordinary romance between a young man and the graduate student who comes to stay with his family for the summer holiday is a stirring depiction of self-discovery and love’s ability to shake the foundations of our lives.

  • It's more invitingly heartfelt and less baroque than the director’s previous films, and skillfully captures both the languor of the summer mood, as time stretches into boredom, and the simultaneous feel of time closing in, of the possibility of missed opportunities, hanging like overripe fruit at the end of a branch. (It’s one of those movies over which fruit metaphors hang irresistibly.)

  • Guadagnino’s setting is in a sense a platonic ideal of the 1980s. How many of us were ever so lithe and gorgeous, so intelligent and self-possessed? How many of us once knew the longing, and how many, really, the having? As Professor Perlman tells his son in an extraordinarily moving scene, a love like Elio and Oliver’s is rare indeed, and before we even know it, our best days our behind us. On the strength of this film, let’s hope that Guadagnino’s are not.

  • Armie Hammer is getting a lot of the attention – and he’s wonderful too – but Chalamet is the one I can’t stop thinking about. To play such a role AS a young man is to be so honest about what it means to be a virgin, and a nervous virgin at that. It’s hard to be honest about such things. There’s a real tenderness in this movie. It’s not just about the sex. It’s to die for.

  • It takes a tremendous amount of skill and intelligence to produce a movie that possesses potentially broad appeal without sacrificing complexity. It’s not as if Guadagnino has turned into an ascetic overnight, either. Rather, working with the gifted Thai cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, he’s refined his style into something poetic rather than bombastic. Instead of hammering, Guadagnino chisels; rather than insisting on his images, he trusts his canted, intimate compositions to do their work.

  • What is most striking in Guadagnino’s film is the urgency of Elio and Oliver’s togetherness. They don’t just fall for each other, but into each other. Guadagnino is attentive to the physical space that initially exists between them – whether it’s the bathroom that divides their bedrooms or their positions at opposite ends of the swimming pool – so that we feel, with increased intensity, the enormity of the gap that is bridged when they finally inch closer to each other’s bodies.

  • At 130 minutes, the film has time to let summer sit and take its spell: a romance isn’t really even hinted at until something like an hour in. If the film has a potential fault, it’s that every single person in it acts with uncommon decency — no one ever acts or reacts with anything but the most benevolent and compassionate of motives — but I’m inclined to let the utopian vibes take over. The film is _romantic_ in a very classical sense, and the spell works.

  • Stripped of the baggage that so often complicates and corrupts queer romance, Call Me by Your Name is allowed to flourish as an unfiltered evocation of the agony and ecstasy of first love.

  • The bond between Elio and Oliver grows tentatively, but unleashes forceful emotions that reverberate through all the relationships in a film both hilarious and gorgeously sad, that crackles with sexual tension.

  • There are those rare films that suddenly make a very cold Berlinale day feel warm by adding a different colour to life, like a filter on an old polaroid picture. Call Me by Your Name is one of them. The film is set in a small town “somewhere in Italy in 1983,” where the intellectual family of seventeen-year-old Elio have their summer vacation house, and where Elio is destined to fall, ever so gently, into a painfully exquisite love affair.

  • Guadagnino may be less showy in his means in Call Me by Your Name, but the ends remain the same. By charting the sexually charged verbal and physical rapport between Elio and the older Oliver, he funnels his romanticism through a more intimate character-based perspective, with that intimacy reflected in the mostly piano-based soundtrack.

  • Luca Guadagnino's adaptation of André Aciman's novel is a lush, rapturous tale of longing, sexuality, and acceptance. Timothée Chalamet is spellbinding as an expat teenager falling for a strapping young grad student (Armie Hammer) who's come to their Italian villa to help his archaeologist father over the summer. Their relationship begins with stolen glances and glancing physical contact, soon developing into an erotically charged affair filled with discovery, joy, and eventual heartbreak

  • The film stands apart at this year’s festival not just for its European origins or for being the work of a mature film-maker rather than an emerging one, but also in terms of its artistic accomplishment, which is a notch above even Sundance’s buzziest entries... It’s hard to think of many movies that have so successfully appealed to both the intellectual and the erotic since the heydays of Patrice Chéreau and André Téchiné.

  • Guadagnino’s previous efforts—I Am Love and A Bigger Splash—both struck me as overindulgent, memorably sensual, but too captivated with surface beauty to really resonate. Here, though, working a script co-written by James Ivory (yes, that James Ivory) and Walter Fasano, itself adapted from a novel by André Aciman, he's finally found the perfect material for his sensibility. The lush setting provides him ample room to indulge in sheer visual beauty; the film literally drips with sensuality.

  • Call Me By Your Name wears its intellectual credentials on its sleeve; it’s a film which sucks in references to art, literature, poetry, linguistics, Jewish identity, and exhales lengthy al-fresco lunches, meticulous production design and dripping over-ripe fruit, a luscious metaphor for the forbidden romance at its core. This hot summer flush of first love in a millieu vacated by Bertolucci’s Stealing Beauty stakes its place in film history with Chalamet’s Elio.

  • This is a highly elegant film in every way, rich in grace notes, and superbly acted. Chalamet crackles with a watchful, sly nerviness, and Hammer carries himself with a radiant, imperious confidence that sometimes softens to show a more humorous gentleness in Oliver . . . The biggest problem for me is the way that the film’s aesthetic perfection militates against its emotional charge. The world depicted here is so glossily perfect that this feels like a film less about life than about lifestyle.

  • Guadagnino's form is more reserved throughout this film, and there's some justification for that, as he's ceding agency to the relationship crafted by his actors—which is one of impressive emotional acuity, at once heartbreaking and sensual, and with an unusually convincing levity about it.

  • An annoyingly dogged lover of fine things, Guadagnino can’t help but overindulge himself at times, positioning his camera to take in as many brand names as possible from scene to scene, whether it’s Fiat or Nutella. But it hardly matters when he’s working with this strong a text, which gracefully weaves an examination of internalized homophobia and anti-Semitism, among other things, into its slow-burn romance.

  • Guadagnino may be our new Mike Nichols — that is, very much an actor’s director. Rarely have actors onscreen seemed so loose, improvisatory, and free as in Guadagnino’s films... The film is wonderful and, in fact, radical for exploring queer coming of age with the empathy and curiosity that it does. But it elides contexts that might have complicated the warmth of its morality.

  • I realize that part of the [film's] revolutionary impulse is the permission it gives Elio to explore his sexual desire, with an older man, without judgment from inside the film or from the far more treacherous outside world. . . . At the same time, Guadagnino's universe is so friction-free that it tends to remove some of the hard-won victory the film seems to want to reflect. One need not demand struggle, but there is pleasure in simply brushing a stodgy world ever so slightly against the grain.

  • In a sense, this is the furthest thing from a “queer movie;” its whole project is to de-queer Elio’s mode of being. That’s the point of the film’s final shot. Yes, he’s heartbroken and crying, but there’s “beautiful” music, he’s literally crouching in front of a fireplace (the hearth!), and behind him his family, while giving him his space, is preparing a sumptuous holiday meal.

  • Film Comment: Laura Kern
    March 03, 2017 | Sundance | March/April 2017 Issue (p. 65)

    Call Me by Your Name, like all of Guadagnino's work, is lush and dreamy, but also felt overlong and ruinous in its casting of Armie Hammer as the self-enamored New England-bred preppy academic. Looking much too old to play 24, Hammer in effect turns what is presumably meant to be a sewet if ill-fated love story into a predatory creepfest.

  • Guadagnino can’t be bothered to imagine (or to urge Ivory to imagine) what they might actually talk about while sitting together alone. Scenes deliver some useful information to push the plot ahead and then cut out just as they get rolling, because Guadagnino displays no interest in the characters, only in the story.

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