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Call Me by Your Name Christian Movie Review

Luca Guadagnino'due south films are all about the transformative power of nature—the manner information technology allows our truthful selves to shine through and inspires usa to pursue our hidden passions. From the wild, windswept hills of "I Am Beloved" to the chic swimming puddle of "A Bigger Splash," Guadagnino vividly portrays the outside world every bit almost a character in itself—driving the storyline, urging the other characters to be bold, inviting us to feel as if we, too, are a part of this intoxicating atmosphere.

Never has this been more than true than in "Call Me Past Your Name," a lush and vibrant masterpiece about first beloved set amidst the warm, sunny skies, gentle breezes and charming, tree-lined roads of northern Italy. Guadagnino takes his time establishing this place and the players within information technology. He's patient in his pacing, and yous must be, as well. Just really, what's the rush? It's the summer of 1983, and at that place'south nothing to do but read, play piano, ponder classic art and pluck peaches and apricots from the arable fruit copse.

Within this garden of sensual delights, an unexpected yet life-irresolute romance blossoms between two immature men who initially seem completely different on the surface.

17-year-old Elio (Timothee Chalamet) is once again visiting his family's summer domicile with his parents: his begetter (Michael Stuhlbarg), an esteemed professor of Greco-Roman culture, and his mother (Amira Casar), a translator and gracious hostess. Elio has the gangly torso of a male child but with an intellect and a quick wit across his years, and the worldliness his parents have fostered within him at least allows him to bear upon the façade of sophistication. Simply below the blowing, a gawky and cocky-witting kid sometimes however emerges. By the cease of the summer, that kid will be vanquished forever.

An American doctoral student named Oliver (Armie Hammer) arrives for the annual internship Elio's father offers. Oliver is everything Elio isn't—or at to the lowest degree, that's our primary perception of him. Alpine, gorgeous and supremely confident, he is the archetypal all-American hunk. Just as polite as he ofttimes tin can exist, Oliver can also cakewalk out of a room with a glib, "After," making him even more than of a tantalizing mystery.

Chalamet and Hammer have just ridiculous chemistry from the get-get, even though (or perhaps considering) their characters are initially prickly toward each other: testing, pushing, feeling each other out, yet constantly worrying about what the other person thinks. They flirt by trying to one-upwards each other with noesis of literature or classical music, merely long before they ever have any physical contact, their electric connexion is unmistakable. Lazy poolside chats are fraught with tension; spontaneous wheel rides into town to run errands feel like nervous starting time dates.

Writer James Ivory's generous, sensitive adaptation of Andre Aciman's novel reveals these characters and their ever-evolving dynamic in beautifully steady yet detailed fashion. And and so when Elio and Oliver finally dare to reveal their truthful feelings for each other—a full 60 minutes into the film—the moment makes you concord your breath with its intimate ability, and the emotions feel completely accurate and earned.

The way Elio and Oliver skin away each other'south layers has both a sweet and a empty-headed thrill to information technology, even though they feel they must keep their romance a secret from Elio'south parents. (Elio also has a kinda-sorta girlfriend in Marzia [Esther Garrel], a thoughtful, playful French teen who's besides in town for the summer.) One of the many impressive elements of Chalamet's beautiful, complex operation is the effortless way he transitions betwixt speaking in English, Italian and French, depending on whom Elio is with at the time. It gives him an air of maturity that'due south otherwise still in development; eventually his massive character arc feels satisfying and true.

But Oliver's evolution is just as crucial, and Hammer finds the tricky balance between the character'south swagger and his vulnerability as he gives himself over to this heady matter. He's flirty just tender—the couple'south love scenes are heartbreaking and intensely erotic all at one time—and even though he's the more experienced of the ii, he can't aid only diving in headlong.

And nonetheless, the well-nigh resonant part of "Call Me By Your Proper noun" may not even be the romance itself, merely rather the lingering sensation that it tin't last, which Guadagnino evokes through long takes and expert utilise of silence. A feeling of melancholy tinges everything, from the pick of a detail shirt to the taste of a perfectly ripe peach. And oh my, that peach scene—Guadagnino was wise when he took a chance and left information technology in from the novel. Information technology really works, and it's perhaps the ultimate example of how masterfully the director manipulates and enlivens all of our senses.

There's a lushness to the visual dazzler of this place, but it's not so perfect as to be off-putting. Quite the contrary. Despite the director'due south infamous eye for meticulous detail, cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom's 35mm images provide a tactile quality that heightens the sensations, makes them experience almost primal. We see the wind gently rustling through the trees, or streaks of sunlight striking Elio's dark curls through an open bedroom window, and while it'southward all subtly sensual, an inescapable tension is building underneath.

Guadagnino establishes that raw, immediate energy from the very first through his use of music. The piano of gimmicky classical composer John Adams' intricate, insistent "Hallelujah Junction – 1st Movement" engages us during the elegant title sequence, while Sufjan Stevens' plaintive, synthy "Visions of Gideon" during the film's devastating final shot ends the film on an agonizingly sad notation. (You'll desire to stay all the way through the closing credits—that long, last image is so transfixing. I seriously don't know how Chalamet pulled information technology off, just there is serious craft on display here.)

In between is Guadagnino'south inspired use of the Psychedelic Furs' "Beloved My Way," an iconic '80s New Wave tune you've probably heard a 1000000 times earlier just will never hear the aforementioned way over again. The starting time time he plays it, it'southward at an outdoor disco where Oliver feels so moved by the bouncy, percussive trounce that he can't assist only jump around to information technology and get lost in the music, lacking all sense of self-consciousness. Watching this towering figure just get for it on the dance floor in his Converse high-tops is a moment of pure joy, but it's also equally if a dam has broken within Elio, being so close to someone who'due south feeling so free. The second time he plays information technology, toward the terminate of Oliver and Elio's journey, it feels like the soundtrack to a time capsule every bit it recaptures a moment of seemingly endless emotional possibility.

They know what they've found has to end—we know it has to finish. Only a beautiful monologue from the e'er fantabulous Stuhlbarg as Elio's warmhearted and open-minded father softens the accident somewhat. Information technology'southward a perfectly calibrated scene in a film full of them, and it'southward one of a meg reasons why "Call Me By Your Proper name" is far and away the best movie of the year.

Christy Lemire
Christy Lemire

Christy Lemire is a longtime movie critic who has written for RogerEbert.com since 2013. Before that, she was the film critic for The Associated Press for nearly 15 years and co-hosted the public television series "Ebert Presents At the Movies" opposite Ignatiy Vishnevetsky, with Roger Ebert serving equally managing editor. Read her answers to our Picture Love Questionnaire hither.

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Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Rated R for sexual content, nudity and some language.

130 minutes

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