Thoughts from the Cinema: Call Me By Your Name

Directed by Luca Guadagnino
Written by James Ivory, based on Andre Aciman's 2007 novel of the same name
Starring Armie Hammer and Timothee Chalamet

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

Call Me By Your Name (2017) is a beautifully rich, warm and visceral film depicting the heated, passionate flush of first love whilst also balancing a clear sense of delicacy and fragility that took my breath away more times than I could count. The stunning Lombardy region of Northern Italy, in which time appears to stand still, frames this tender narrative and is as much a part of the story as the vivacious characters. So much of the desires, victories and losses of precocious 17 year old Elio and his father's heart-fluttering intern Oliver, are informed and influenced by their environment that is drenched in European art, history and culture. Mr Perlman is a professor specialising in Greco-Roman culture and the family's 17th century villa echoes this pursuit in its classical furnishings. Elio, a gifted musician, spends most of his long summer transcribing and playing classical music on the piano. Subsequently, the charming melodies of this past-time form their own layer in the soundtrack, in perfect harmony with the aesthetic of the film; stone walls, fresh orange juice in glass jugs, bare feet wet from the swimming pool walking across dark floorboards and dinner under the shade of winding trees. Fresh fruit soon became an image I associated with this story, with oranges, peaches and plums appearing in abundance on screen. With these fleshy, sticky treats come pleasant connotations of summer and new life in all its ripe, blossoming glory. However, as the film developed, I came to understand that fruit could mean something more sensual and animalistic; something sickly sweet that ripens in the sun and can be torn and destroyed to a pulp. (These associations probably have much to do with a certain incident with a peach but I'm convinced my fixation with the fruit in this film would only be slightly less without this scene.) Moving on from the visual delights, the tension between Elio and Oliver was beautifully crafted throughout this cinematic masterpiece. More often than not it was almost palpable, practically suffocating, and I felt as though I rode every wave of frustration and relief with the lead roles. As Elio navigates the overwhelming and dizzying dreamscape of first love, with Oliver as a wary guide, I was awash with an immense longing to also fall in love. I craved a long, hot summer somewhere where time goes to sleep and everyone lives on peaches and plums and where one day an enigmatic intellectual would cycle into the piazza where I am sat outside a coffee shop and we would lock eyes as our stars collided a thousand miles above us. Anyway, the true joy of this film is that there is no punishment or obstacle to overcome for the lovers other than their own painful understanding that their relationship can only be as long as the season. The Perlman villa and the idyllic village surrounding it are a blissful haven, remote from the social realities Elio and Oliver will each likely return to as the summer ends. This isolation from but coexistence with reality allows the film to truthfully reflect the year 1983 but without all its negative social baggage. Thus, unlike most stories of same-sex love, this is not one of strife and adversity but of personal exploration and acceptance. Call Me By Your Name is a coming-of-age summer romance the same as any other except that this one is impeccable. 

Call Me By Your Name (2017)

P.S. I have figured it's about time I start making the most of the fact that I work in a cinema in the holidays (and therefore watch films for free) and start writing about what I watch. I'm graduating in 6 months and this realisation has given me a real drive to keep up writing in any and every capacity I can until then, if only to feel slightly more self sustainable when the time comes that I exist outside of an educational institution. So, this piece is the first entry of a new series of posts called Thoughts from the Cinema. (Working title probably, I don't know, help.) These aren't film reviews as such, just thoughts. I don't know how regular they'll be but time is a human construct and everything is relative!!!


Ro is listening to: Alone by Jessie Ware

One Second Every Day: A review of my 2017 time capsule

Hello hi hello! This still exists! Happy new year!

Today I'm chatting about a millennial self-preservation challenge I embarked on last year and reflecting on the process. What was that? Arts degree? Never heard of her.

Depending on whether you follow me on Instagram (@rosemaryrosero #selfpromo) or not, you may or may not know that in 2017 I attempted to do a one-second-everyday compilation using the aptly named app one second everyday. I'd seen a couple of friends using it in 2016 and being a sentimental soul, it seemed right up my street. Whimsical dated film footage of every day of my life neatly sewn together for me into romantic anthologies? Yes. Please. The examples I'd been inspired by in 2016 were full of funny phrases cut out of context, glasses being 'cheers'ed in pubs, people hugging and dancing and eating, beautiful street corners and the sky setting. I was led to believe (forgetting that most of my friends are artists) that even boring days could be beautiful and I wanted a slice of that rose-tinted life.

So, beginning on News Years Day of 2017, I began to film something everyday. Some days there were obvious events or social engagements to film but a lot of the time (most of the time), especially in the first couple of weeks of January, my days were pretty mundane and this was a sad realisation to come to. Unlike some of my more organised friends who I've since seen try out this activity in 2018, I never thought to set myself reminders, so from day one to 365 I was relying entirely on my feeble memory. Good one, Ro. How did that work out for you?

...It was alright!! To be honest, it was a slog with moments of satisfaction that made me stick with it. Similar to being in a relationship with a dying spark...I imagine? I don't know. As a result of my own folly rather than the app itself, I was continually falling short of my own expectations - by forgetting to film but also by not always doing interesting things. (But who is??) Because I was sharing each month on Instagram there was a pressure (from the feeling of there being an audience but also from it being cataloged on my profile; a collection of photos and video clips that I am proud of) for every month to have its own beauty - coffee shops in the winter and beaches in the summer, etc. It was easy to forget that these compilations were not actually entirely reflective of reality so if one didn't turn out great, it almost felt like confirmation that the month itself didn't go well when in fact they were totally separate, almost unrelated things. Oh, and then there was the compilation envy!! The green eyed monster really came out all singing and dancing with regards to this past time, I can tell you that for free!! A couple of my friends were doing the same activity alongside me and it always felt like they were doing it better than me...and that feeling never really went away, but it did soften a little with the understanding that mine relates to no one else in the world like it does to me - it's entirely my own...even if it's trash.

All in all, I am very glad to have tried my hand with this one-second-everyday lark. What I've produced is, despite its imperfections and liberal use of artistic license to fill in the gaps, a really lovely and thorough time capsule of the central part of my University experience. Also, what is particularly effective throughout it is the reflection and replication of the tone of a time. Even in the places where I forgot to film the desired landscape arty shots so photos and trashy Snapchat videos were used instead, the mood of that week in my life still shines through the collage of memorabilia. I'd definitely recommend this experience to anyone interested but would advise you to either set yourself reminders to ensure you do film something you like everyday or hold yourself to lower expectations of beauty than I did to avoid feeling disappointed at the end of each month. Also remember that like every other piece of social media, the monthly compilations are not a mirror of the month itself so the mood of the video can be very different to your own mood.

I have posted my full year-long compilation as an unlisted video on Youtube so if any friends reading this are interested in watching it, send me a message and I'll forward you the link. But I deliberately haven't bothered posting it anywhere because that seemed presumptuous when the content is so niche to my experiences.

Over and out!


Ro is listening to: One Day by Paolo Nutini

Little lycra victories

Every spring I am tempted by the bright colours and patterns of the new summer fashion ranges glowing from highstreet windows to buy a bikini. I’m a magpie for fun clothes and when hung and folded nicely, bikinis look fun. They’re always yellow and pink with palm leaf prints and often with frills, sequins, craftily arranged string and holes in odd places. They leave little to the imagination but when on those tiny hangers somehow have a Siren way of fooling me into thinking that a certain shade of neon is enough to hide all the bits of my body I don’t like.

Every spring I will duly arm myself with these sets, each half probably costing more than 6 x the price of the material it's made of, and head to the fitting rooms optimistically. A shop assistant will give me a number tag and I will hunt for a curtain without a stressed, wiggling woman behind it. 

Every spring I will gently cry in my fitting room, staring at my flat chest, wobbly tummy, broad shoulders, red arms and ghostly white legs. Carefully I will hang the lycra back onto its hangers, struggling to navigate the string and failing to make it look anything like what tempted me before.
 

Today I tried again for this year, picking out the same pink palm-leaf printed set that’s featured in varying ways in every summer collection. I took it to the fitting room and tried it on and to my surprise found a plot twist in my bikini narrative. Looking in the mirror, I smiled. I don’t know whether this was because the bikini itself was different to previous ones I’d tried, or whether my body has changed to become something I can more easily accept, or whether (and I really do hope it’s this) I’m just more content and my eyes are kinder.

The ironic thing is I don’t actually have an appropriate trip planned this summer to wear said bikini, but I am happy enough simply owning one and feeling confident in it.

Little victories, ey? 


Ro is listening to: Changing of the Seasons by Two Door Cinema Club