call me by your name (d. luca guadagnino; w. james ivory)

Guadagnino’s biggest hit to date is a film which many people I’ve met have told me moved them inordinately, but which left me strangely cold. It’s a coming of age tale, as the adolescent Elio explores his sexuality during a long hot Italian Summer. The film, employing a James Ivory script, takes its time to play itself out, with the rhythms matching those of the long Summer days that the script inhabits. Guadagnino adopts his trademark lush cinematography and lavish music, but the narrative itself is slimmed down, homing in on the comings and goings of Elio and the older American he falls in love with, Oliver.

Towards the end of A Bigger Splash, there’s a slightly uncomfortable storyline relating to African immigrants arriving in South Italy. Guadagnino is a sybarite, one can’t help thinking, and politics, or at least ‘social realism’ politics, isn’t really his bag. Call Me By Your Name makes no bones about being a primarily bourgeois piece of art. Elio’s archeologist father gets his kicks from discovering aristocratic Roman treasures which are salvaged from the sea floor. In this sense, Call Me By Your Name, an eminently apolitical work of art, might be said to be completely honest in its intentions. However, as a result, I found myself engaging less and less with the dreamy protagonist. Sure, the flowering of late adolescence is driven by a sexual impulse, but it’s also an age when other impulses flower: the idealistic or the political urge. It’s easy to understand why Call Me By Your Name, which captures Elio’s sexual anxiety with a surgical precision, has seduced an audience that identifies with Elio’s angst. We all went through that stage at one point or another. (And, given this, it’s also easy to understand how the story is far more than a “gay” story, as might be said to be the case with Haigh’s Weekend, for example). But the net effect is that Elio ends up feeling like a hollow character, sheltered and indulged by his almost creepily empathetic parents. 

Of course, no film can have it all and it might seem churlish to quibble about a lack of political perspective in what is essentially a glorified love story. But Elio’s self-absorption ultimately seemed to this viewer to make him a banal one-dimensional hero. The film is, to all intents and purposes, a Rohmerian fable, but the characters lack the self-doubt which Rohmer’s characters evince, which is what gives Rohmer’s characters their charm, the way in which they achieve their epiphany in spite of their doubts as to whether they really deserve it. Another recent film which could be a point of reference is Santiago Mitre’s El Estudiante, a film which boldly embraces its protagonist’s shallowness in way Call Me By Your Name shies away from.