Luca Guadagnino’s I Am Love is a moving, sometimes overbearing melodrama, carried by Tilda Swinton’s sensitive performance. We recommend it, despite stretches of slow pacing and music that occasionally overwhelms the actors.
Luca Guadagnino takes the upheaval within a wealthy Italian family seriously, and asks us to do the same. We recommend I Am Love: it is absorbing, often moving, and willing to risk excess when a tidier film would keep its feelings small. Its weakness is a tendency to underline what Tilda Swinton has already made clear as Emma Recchi. The film needs her restraint, especially when its music and images try to make every feeling unmistakable.
Tilda Swinton gives Emma enough uncertainty to keep the romance from becoming a simple declaration of independence. As Emma becomes more conscious of what she wants, apprehension remains visible alongside the pleasure in her face. We were moved by that uncertainty: she makes happiness seem unfamiliar enough to require some care. The performance suggests someone still learning to trust what she feels, and that hesitation keeps her recognisable when the direction grows more forceful.
Yorick Le Saux lets us spend time looking at Milan, and allows the landscapes beyond the city to hold our attention too. Francesca Di Mottola’s production design gives the family’s prosperity a formality that makes Emma’s uncertainty seem conspicuous. The care given to these surroundings helps explain why anyone in this family might resist change. We understand why the film looks so closely, although the pleasure of looking occasionally delays the next meaningful exchange.
John Adams’s music gives the romance an urgency that the leisurely storytelling does not always supply on its own. Its force often feels right, but there are passages where its insistence draws attention away from Emma. Walter Fasano’s editing shares the film’s patience, sometimes usefully and sometimes beyond what a scene can bear. At 120 minutes, this is hardly an unreasonable demand on an evening; it is the uneven pace within those minutes that we notice.
The screenplay, credited to Barbara Alberti, Ivan Cotroneo, Walter Fasano and Luca Guadagnino, is most persuasive when it keeps Emma’s wishes close to her doubts. We believe in the difficulty of wanting something that threatens an established life. Some of the dramatic pressure is applied too bluntly, however, and the characters can briefly seem to be serving the plot. We would have liked the writers to trust the quieter exchanges more often, since Tilda Swinton has already given them enough to work with.
As a melodrama, the film understands that a change in someone’s private life can feel large enough to disturb everything around them. It takes that feeling seriously without asking us to admire Emma simply for having it. Anyone who dislikes a lingering image or an emphatic musical passage will find plenty to object to, and some of those objections are fair. Yet the romance remains tender enough to justify staying with a film that occasionally makes rather a lot of itself. Choose it when there is time to let a romance be a little unreasonable.