Call Me by Your Name

A complicated movie, erotic yet never graphic, heartfelt yet highly stylized. Chalamet delivers one of the year's best performances.

One of the year's most romantic movies, and also one of the best.

A spellbinding, almost ecstatically beautiful movie that gains even more heft and meaning in its final transcendent moments.

"Call Me by Your Name" is enough to make you move to the town of Crema, even if your rational self realizes the director Luca Guadagnino trades in a heightened, miragelike state of mythic yearning.

"Call Me By Your Name" is transcendent in its first hour, communicating much through the camera's evocation of nature and the screenplay's clear yet subtle dialogue.

It's a story of first love: impossible, impermanent, and passionate.

It is incredibly pleasant to spend a couple of hours with characters as unashamedly smart as this. It is rare these days to find English-speaking characters who revel in the pleasures of intellectual discussion, who celebrate each other's braininess.

By the end of this 132-minute journey, I had grown somewhat weary of the tug of war between the two leads, despite disarming efforts from Hammer and Chalamet.

There's a lot of the unspoken in Call Me by Your Name, a perceptive film about lust, jealousy, uncertainty, repression, and, maybe, love.

Chalamet and Stuhlbarg are great, and that Italian countryside sure is pretty.

...so seductive, you might not notice there is a troubling streak of hedonism at its core.

It's a rare movie that knows when to move and when to stay still. Call Me By Your Name ... is just such a film, lazy as a late-afternoon dragonfly one moment, rash and rushed as young love the next.