3 1/2 (out of 4)
Call Me By Your Name is a serene, tender, leisurely Italian vacation. Not unlike the trappings of director Luca Guadignino's other Italian romantic dramas I Am Love and last year's A Bigger Splash, this film forms the spiritual third entry in Guadignino's self-declared Desire trilogy. It may not go on to be one of the defining LGBTQ love stories of the genre's most fruitful era like the Brokeback Mountain's and Blue is the Warmest Colour's of the world, but it's lasting impression lends the film an easy spot amongst the year's finest films.
The greatest attribute of Call Me By Your Name is without a doubt its collection of seriously superb performances. Timothée Chalamet who just gained some further exposure in Lady Bird wears his lanky adolescence most believably, and Armie Hammer, though a bit old for his own character, is nonetheless an excellent foil to Chalamet's cool. Michael Stuhlbarg is the film's secret weapon though. Playing the father of Chalamet's Elio and the professor of Hammer's Oliver, Stuhlbarg comes away with a more deserving turn for a supporting actor that his in-film protégé. His monologue in the penultimate scene is beautiful and blunt, probably the best moment in the film solely due to Stuhlbarg's abilities.
Like any good director should in films of this variety, Guadignino painstakingly creates a universal landscape of attraction and stubbornness. Featuring a more refined example of the laid back auteurism that Guadignino has offered up beforehand, he makes an emotional saga of homosexual summer romance feel both carefree and monumentally weighty. The ending of Call Me By Your Name summarizes this best. After Elio casually chats with Oliver again months after the fact and upon finding out he's getting married, the film leaves you with a long static shot of a crying Elio staring into a crackling fireplace as the credits begin. I swear if Gary Oldman wasn't the man of the year, the 22-year-old Chalamet should be winning over the likes of Daniel Day-Lewis and company.
Anyway, with credits rolling we see Elio's naïveté vanish and the scars of his bliss begin to take hold. Drawing out a final moment through the credits usually cheapens the film, but here it remarkably elevates everything that came before. It is a painful sendoff of release and acceptance that feels like one of the most raw epilogues put to modern film.
To keep it brief...