Call Me by Your Name
Miraculously, Luca Guadagnino made a film that looks, sounds, and feels as fleeting and countless as a teen’s first summer time love. Who knew it resembled the golden light of an Italian villa, or the smiling eyes of a father witnessing his infant’s first heartache? Or that it can be heard in a chorus of window shutters as they clatter inside the wind, the heavy slam of a wood door, or a spoon’s clumsy faucet faucet faucet on top of a tender-boiled egg? And — if not for being capable of take hold of their chests in a dark film theater that transported them to the region wherein they first misplaced their sanity to a pretty face — who would have recognised that love seems like rolling lazily into a fountain, or the wet insides of a peach?
If “Moonlight” is the decade’s defining queer coming-of-age movie, then “call Me via Your call” is its grand gay romance. it is the “Brokeback Mountain” of its era, made all of the greater sweeter and greater touchy for being directed through an real gay person. Sexuality notwithstanding, it’s hard to think of any recent film that makes this kind of meal out of affection. The final 10 years saw the romantic drama vanish at the side of the romantic comedy, but “name Me by using Your call” made falling in love experience horny once more. All it took was the sight of Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer staring every different down in short shorts, and suddenly we knew in a everlasting manner that it might continually be better to speak than to die.