Call Me by Your Name

Luca Guadagnino gives Call Me by Your Name time to let attraction become inconvenient. James Ivory’s screenplay, adapted from André Aciman’s novel, follows a teenage boy whose intelligence offers little help with wanting an older man. Elio can talk about art and history without being any better at understanding Oliver. We recommend it because the performances make that uncertainty matter, though the film occasionally takes longer over a mood than it needs to.

Timothée Chalamet plays Elio with an alertness that makes even the quieter exchanges feel risky. His physical expressiveness keeps exposing what the intellectual conversation might otherwise conceal, so the character’s cleverness never makes him seem safely in control. We were embarrassed for him, because his face makes his uncertainty plain while he is trying to sound assured. It is a generous performance, letting us recognise the awkwardness without encouraging us to laugh at the boy.

Armie Hammer gives Oliver an ease that makes Elio’s self-consciousness harder to hide. The attraction is convincing, although Oliver is less fully drawn, and the film sometimes relies on Armie Hammer’s presence where another detail of character would help. Michael Stuhlbarg, as Mr. Perlman, brings warmth to the family scenes without making kindness look like an achievement. The people around Elio can seem too well chosen to help him understand his feelings; we occasionally wanted somebody to be less understanding.

Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s wider compositions let us watch how the two men occupy space around each other. Keeping the camera back lets us read their awkwardness for ourselves, without a close-up insisting on its importance. Samuel Deshors’s production design makes the period setting inviting, and helps the conversations about art and history feel at home there. The surroundings can be so pleasant that we stop attending to the people, which is a problem in a romance.

Walter Fasano’s editing allows the romance to develop slowly enough for hesitation to become interesting. At 132 minutes, however, the film sometimes gives us more time to understand a feeling we have already understood. John Adams’s music brings a welcome restlessness. Sufjan Stevens’s songs sound close and private, helping when the camera keeps its distance. They suit the film, though occasionally we would rather have been left with the actors, who have already made the feeling clear.

For a coming-of-age romance, this is unusually willing to let embarrassment take its time. It also allows pleasure without treating it as something the characters must apologise for, which makes the occasional prettiness easier to forgive. The film takes Elio’s feelings seriously even when he cannot find a sensible way to express them, and that is worth a little patience. Save it for an evening without interruptions; the small changes in his expression deserve attention.