One thing that struck me after I left the movie theatre (stunned, with a heart as full as it was broken) was the absence of a traditional cinematic moment where mutual feelings are spoken aloud, thrust pivotally into the open. The clean-cut propulsion of “I like you,” conspicuous to the audience. How in Call Me By Your Name, it goes without saying that the attraction simmers tantalisingly, irrevocably, from Elio and Oliver’s very first meeting. A tension-thick subtext permeating the cobblestone bike rides, crystalline swimming trips, and sun-drenched breakfasts spent in each other's company. Indefinable but always there, flaring up at certain points, clarified wholeheartedly through action. How this inexplicit intimacy, this lack of an identifiable catalyst, worked to map a private coherence between them—both deeply recognisable and never thoroughly comprehensible for the viewer—felt like the most authentic portrayal of love.
Over the course of a quiet, softly green summer set "Somewhere In Northern Italy", Elio Perlman, the seventeen-year-old son of an archeology professor, forms a relationship with Oliver, a visiting scholar from America. The film is set in the eighties, though the events seem to unfold on a surreptitious timeline all their own. Music is the only feature that speaks directly to context—in a nighttime dance sequence where Elio sits among a cluster of friends, smoking and surveying the acclaimed newcomer wooing a woman. Love My Way by The Psychedelic Furs comes on; his friends hurry to the dance floor. He remains seated for a while, gaze steady on Oliver, the reasoning both unfathomable and plain.
To watch tentative fascination flourish into a bond so sensually electric, and a subsequent surrender so emphatically raw to behold, was a gift. So palpable is Oliver and Elio’s chemistry, so earnest and immense their desires, that a certain sanctity feels innate. It’s rare we see a love story devoid of external forces intervening, or plot devices posited to prove the degree of ones love. Call Me By Your Name sees the sating captivations administered simply by Elio and Oliver's feelings for each other. The film's redolent subtlety and unhurried pacing house a weight that further dialogue might have squandered, and what could have easily been exploitative flashiness is instead fervid tenderness—courtesy of director Luca Gudagnino’s talent for preserving the fundamental purity of love. Gratification derived from something as minimal as shared proximity, minutiae magnified by a reverent lens. You are seeing through Elio and Oliver’s eyes, as they see each other.
Gudagnino wants you to focus only on the mortality of connection, and the capacity we have to love vulnerably, curiously, immeasurably. In one of the best and final scenes, Elio’s father speaks to him ensuing Oliver’s departure, revealing his knowledge not just of their relationship but of what it means to be a person, feeling the things his son has felt. “Our hearts and bodies are given to us only once,” he states with life-affirming warmth, and in the dark I seized the line, marvelling at how Elio and Oliver had embraced this philosophy for their brief span of time together. The beauty of Call Me By Your Name is in its tenacity and nuance, the simultaneous simplicity and intricacy felt in everything tacit. Artfully summarised by Mr. Perlman when he says, encompassing loves throughout all of time: “What you two had, had nothing and everything to do with intelligence.” ☆