Call Me By Your Name. Who knew it was so good?

 (Originally published 21 June 2022)

 Last night . . . and five years late, I watched a movie I'd never intended to see.  But, being something of a completist, I've been a fan of the (now very) controversial actor, Armie Hammer, and with only a few titles missing, decided it was time for Call Me By Your Name. Was I surprised?  Yes, and far more than I could have possibly imagined. There is no word I would attach to Luca Guadagnino's film other than masterpiece, and, of the few films I've seen of his, it is far and away the finest. 

His treatment of André Aciman's 2007 novel is one of the best transfers from book to screen I've seen . . . maybe ever.  That's a strong statement, and I may walk it back eventually, but I doubt it.  Seriously.  Absolutely everything about Guadagnino's interpretation of this tale feels right and faithful, beginning with the uncomfortable nature of the story which he makes to feel, of all things . . . feel perfectly natural. So many elements come together to achieve this cinematic Gesamtkunstwerk, that, it's impossible to think of and comment on them all.  This includes the amazing soundtrack with its use of John Adams, Mozart, Bach, (and more) which makes the images they accompany fairly pop in their details. The use of music here blends like a sort of light, illuminating the story without ever intruding upon it.  Then there are the characters with each role perfectly cast, and executed brilliantly by a troupe of actors who bring nuance, depth, and more than just a touch of mystery to their roles. Indeed, there is mystery in each of these characters and they become as real as you or I.  While all are superb, I'll leave it that the film really is beautifully carried by its two principals, Armie Hammer and Timothée Chalamet.  

But wait, there's more! Take for instance the amazing, breathtaking lighting design used throughout, and Guadagnino's almost preternatural use of space . . .  water . . . ancient architecture . . . all of it blending in with new world emotions that, as they casually bubble to the surface, we realize, are not so new after all. No. Not new at all.  It's fucking brilliant.

Anyway, I was knocked out by every moment, scene, line and can think of no more beautiful ending to a film than the closing, shot - which continues during and extends to the final credits. Guadagnino has created something he does not want to end - and we don't want him to.  At least I didn't.   

So, after falling on my swort (not literally, relax) I followed this experience with my usual trick: finally reading the reviews.  Not surprisingly (or perhaps so, given my track record of loving things critics seem to hate) almost every one of them was a rave.  

And then there was, of course, Richard Brody's hatchet job for the New Yorker.  In by far the longest, prosiest, rant against everything about Guadagnino's movie.  Everything.  Seriously this exhausting review seemed to take longer to read than the film it was tearing apart.  For brevity's sake (your welcome), here's my distillation of his hatred:

Empty, sanitized intimacy . . .if Guadagnino had any interest in his characters . . . .the story is inconceivable without the conversation that they’d have had as their relationship developed ... yet, ... what they actually say to each other is hardly seen or heard.  Guadagnino can’t be bothered to imagine (or to urge Ivory to imagine) what they might actually talk about while sitting together alone. (he) displays no interest in the characters, (All) of the characters are reduced to animated ciphers . . . “Call Me by Your Name” (is) thin and empty, ... sluggish; the languid pace of physical action is matched by the languid pace of ideas, and the result is an enervating emptiness.

Boo.  Hiss.  Brody complains the Guadagnino does not establish either Elio or Oliver's sexual or romantic histories before they meet; expressing how knowledge of their respective pasts is a necessity for character development and our ability (or inability) to read them. How sad to be a critic for a well regarded publication and be incapable of seeinig things, or have any ability to interpret characters without having all the details explained to you.  He went on to complain about camera angles, shadows, lighting, pan shots, quite literally every detail of the film.  Brody's review reads like a diatribe constructed by a jilted lover on a vendetta, right down to hinting at "and another thing!"  Not only could I not possibly disagree with him more, I also couldn't stop laughing.

Anyway. . . I'm glad I finally broke down and gave Call Me By Your Name a go.  It was a truly beautiful experience  . . . one of my favorites of the year, and I can't wait to revisit it again.