Author Topic: Armie Hammer & Timothée Chalamet find love in Call Me By Your Name (2017)  (Read 314642 times)

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Note the aesthetics of the final scenes. The world is frozen over outside the Perlman house, but inside there is fire and food. The t-shirts Elio wore in summer have been replaced not only by warmer clothes, but also by more bold, even flamboyant, ones. The pattern on his billowy, tucked-in shirt shows a crowd of androgynous faces. As he cries by the fire, a fly crawls across those faces.

The shirt’s design is so reminiscent of ’80s urban life that, whether they’re meant to or not, viewers might start to think of the artist Keith Haring, whose work came to be associated with the fight against HIV/AIDS. Or they may simply think of what that decade meant for queer men, both the closeted ones like Oliver and the growing class of liberated ones like Elio. The book version of Call Me by Your Name  was set in 1987, but Guadagnino moved the story to 1983 because, he has said, “’83 is the year—in Italy at least—where the ’70s are killed, when everything that was great about the ’70s is definitely shut down.” Part of that shut-down, any cultural history will attest, is that the sexual awakening of the ’60s, which fed the libertine ’70s, smacked into a hard, deadly reality: AIDS.





https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2018/01/the-shadow-over-call-me-by-your-name/549269/




The Shadow Over
Call Me by Your Name
The acclaimed depiction of gay romance forgoes politics and doesn’t mention
AIDS—but there are hints at a broader, darker context for its story.


by SPENCER KORNHABER
JAN 3, 2018



Esther Garrel, Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name.



The masterful shot that closes Call Me by Your Name  asks the viewer to do the same thing the character on screen is doing: think. Over seven minutes, Elio Perlman, the 17-year-old played by Timothée Chalamet, simply stares into a crackling fireplace as tears well in his eyes. He presumably is reflecting on his tryst with Oliver, Armie Hammer's 24-year-old grad student who visited Elio’s Italian home for the summer. And on Elio’s own father’s life in the closet, revealed to him toward the end of the film. And maybe on his future, perched as he is on the cusp of adulthood, and having just had an affair that felt life-changing.

The audience should be reflecting on those things, too. It’s possible, though, they’d be considering something surely not on Elio’s mind: AIDS. At least, that was the case for me—a fact that has gotten me into arguments with friends who are, understandably, wary of over-reading a film devoted to young love’s bittersweetness and the glory of short shorts.

The acclaim for Luca Guadagnino’s adaptation of André Aciman’s novel has, overwhelmingly, focused on its cinematic loveliness and emotional power. As Guadagnino’s camera inhabits the gaze of a young man whose fantasy becomes reality, it refreshingly depicts “a story of queer love that isn’t tinged with horror or tragedy,” as my colleague David Sims wrote (scroll down to see below). The flip side is that Call Me by Your Name ’s prettiness has come in for rebuke, too, with some critics faulting it for trying too much to appeal to a “universal” audience, and others asking why it has won so much more attention than more provocative, political queer stories.

But I’d argue there actually is a tinge of tragedy to Call Me by Your Name, and part of the richness of the movie is in the way it makes a larger point while mostly keeping politics off screen. The story does feel sealed, its characters happily isolated in a landscape of ripe fruit and ancient ruins that almost feels pre-electricity. Yet on the edges of the film are reminders of the broader social struggle that Elio and Oliver feel temporarily exempted from—and maybe, just maybe, of the epidemic that queer men were beginning to contend with.

Oliver and Elio’s archeologist dad read into the surfaces of the artifacts they unearth—“there’s not a straight line in any of these statues; they’re all curved, as if daring you to desire them,” Mr. Perlman says. The viewer should bring the same scrutiny to Guadagnino’s surfaces. Why, for example, are there so many flies in the movie? Elio swats bugs away repeatedly, and faint buzzing often joins the idyllic soundscape. Flies are especially noticeable in the scene of Oliver and Elio’s first kiss, as well as in the final shot before the fireplace.

The tale unfolds in rural Italian summer, redolent with natural rot—fair enough. But surely there’s a reason Guadagnino draws attention to that rot. At Slate, Eleanor Cummins speculates that the insects, which have short lifespans, symbolize the temporary nature of Elio and Oliver’s affair ( http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2017/12/08/why_are_there_so_many_houseflies_in_call_me_by_your_name.html ). Maybe so. But flies can obviously connote human death and illness, too.

The same can be said for blood, such as the blood that suddenly, inexplicably spills from Elio’s nose at dinner. Or such as the blood crusted on a nasty gash on Oliver’s hip. When he first shows his wound to Elio, it’s a sensual tease—though a gory one. Later, right after their first make-out, Oliver points to the injury again, this time to kill the mood. “I think it’s starting to get infected,” he says. These touches—pungent, corporal—fit with a story about physical desire. But they also inject a note of queasiness, raising the thought of the body’s fragility.

Maybe the horror-film flashes are meant simply to reinforce the fear Oliver and Elio must feel. Their relationship is forbidden, we sense, because of their age difference, because Elio is the son of the Oliver’s boss, and because they are the same sex. Though none of these factors is spoken of directly, both characters clearly feel a dalliance would be taboo. Elio at one point makes a homophobic crack about his parents’ gay friends. And despite his brash, swaggering affect, Oliver comes off as especially worried about the external world’s judgment. “We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of, and that’s a good thing,” he tells Elio after breaking off their first kiss. “I want to be good.”

The miraculous nature of the story stems not only from Elio and Oliver overcoming their fears, but also from the way the obstacles they face simply vanish—because, we later learn, those obstacles were illusory for them. In the monologue Elio’s father gives toward the end of the film, forbidden love is made okay, even encouraged. More than that, Mr. Perlman’s confession—that he has wanted but never had the kind of relationship his son has enjoyed—marks the moment when Call Me by Your Name  telescopes out. An intimate, specific story must be considered against the larger circumstances that queer people faced. In that context, it becomes a tale, more broadly, of liberation—and perhaps its limits.

When Oliver calls the Perlman household to announce he’s engaged to a woman, it reads as a capitulation for the outwardly swashbuckling American who pursued Elio and hid the fact that he had a girl back at home. Outside of the permissive paradise of the Italian summer, we’re reminded, there are rules. But Elio may have escaped to a freer future than his lover could access, one less constrained by shame and repression. “You’re so lucky,” the older man tells the younger one over the phone. “My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility.” Even so, Elio is shaken by Oliver’s call.

Note the aesthetics of the final scenes. The world is frozen over outside the Perlman house, but inside there is fire and food. The t-shirts he wore in summer have been replaced not only by warmer clothes, but also by more bold, even flamboyant, ones. The pattern on his billowy, tucked-in shirt shows a crowd of androgynous faces. As Elio cries by the fire, a fly crawls across those faces.

The shirt’s design is so reminiscent of ’80s urban life that, whether they’re meant to or not, viewers might start to think of the artist Keith Haring, whose work came to be associated with the fight against HIV/AIDS. Or they may simply think of what that decade meant for queer men, both the closeted ones like Oliver and the growing class of liberated ones like Elio. The book version of Call Me by Your Name  was set in 1987, but Guadagnino moved the story to 1983 because, he has said, “’83 is the year—in Italy at least—where the ’70s are killed, when everything that was great about the ’70s is definitely shut down.” Part of that shut-down, any cultural history will attest, is that the sexual awakening of the ’60s, which fed the libertine ’70s, smacked into a hard, deadly reality: AIDS.

I’m not suggesting that the movie telegraphs Elio’s future as one of sickness (Guadagnino has talked about filming sequels that follow these characters years later, Before Sunset–style, and the book closes with a series of flash-forwards). The critic Eric Eidelstein persuasively argues that the film’s flies and blood could be red herrings, subverting the cliché of the ill-fated gay romance.
( https://mic.com/articles/186253/call-me-by-your-name-avoids-the-thing-that-hangs-over-too-many-lgbtq-films-tragedy#.BfGYXaVc3 )
But the flip side of that subversion is an understanding that prejudice is not the only reason gay people have, so often, been saddled with tragic stories in pop culture. It is an understanding that the year’s other splashy European queer film, 120 Beats Per Minute, about AIDS activism in Paris in the early ’90s, need not be seen as a foil to Call Me by Your Name  but as a companion piece. Self-actualization—or simply loving as one wants—was not the entire struggle.

The queer utopia Elio and Oliver built is poignantly temporary and limited—both for reasons that the movie spells out, and conceivably for historical reasons that go unmentioned but perhaps not unconsidered. In his sermon, Mr. Perlman invites his son to live his truth, but emphasizes that doing so inevitably means opening oneself up to pain. He also makes a statement that’s queer in the sense of holding opposed meanings, happy and sad. “When you least expect it,” he says, “Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot.”



  Spencer Kornhaber is a staff writer at The Atlantic covering pop culture and music.













Timothée Chalamet is handed the difficult task of making Elio authentically aloof and cold at times. Though he’s a teenager desperate for the approval of everyone around him, he possesses a vulnerability that he displays only occasionally. Armie Hammer, who could so easily be reduced to the part of a typically handsome Hollywood stand-in, is mesmerizing; he switches between Oliver’s public brashness and private tenderness with ease, making his character far more than a simple object of desire.





https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/11/call-me-by-your-name-review/546872/



The Sumptuous Love Story of
Call Me by Your Name
Luca Guadagnino’s tale of budding gay romance in 1980s Italy
is one of the most mesmerizing films of the year.


by DAVID SIMS
29 November 2017 6:00 AM ET



Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name.



“What do you do around here?” the tall, strapping Oliver (Armie Hammer) asks Elio (Timothée Chalamet), the 17-year-old giving him a tour of the charming Italian village where Oliver will be living for the next six weeks. “Wait for the summer to end,” the bored-seeming Elio says with a sigh. “And what do you do in the winter? Wait for the summer to come?” Oliver shoots back. That only gets a chuckle from Elio, but that line nails the initial mood of Call Me by Your Name, Luca Guadagnino’s sumptuous new romance, which follows a deep connection that springs out of those restless days of late adolescence.

Elio is the intelligent, charming son of archeology professor Samuel Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), with whom Oliver, a graduate student, is interning for the summer. Guadagnino’s film, based on the 2007 novel by André Aciman, charts Elio and Oliver’s relationship, which develops haltingly at first but then burns brightly. It’s a swooning tale about the seismic power of first love—one that doesn’t dismiss Elio’s experience as a folly of youth, but instead digs into the unmistakable trace it leaves, for better or worse.

It’s also a story of queer love that isn’t tinged with horror or tragedy, a gay romance about a genuine attachment. At the same time, Call Me by Your Name  doesn’t attempt to sanitize itself as a bland, “universal” film in hopes of appealing to a wider audience. It’s both intensely erotic and intensely contained, acknowledging the very private lives gay men were forced to lead in the early 1980s, when the film is set. As a result, in Call Me by Your Name, virtually every bit of physical contact is crucial and electrifying.

The intimacy Guadagnino (and James Ivory, who wrote the film’s script) finds in these characters is present from the beginning, but Chalamet (a 21-year-old budding superstar who I knew best from an old season of Homeland ) is the audience’s way in, as a boy on the verge of adulthood who develops immediate, if confused, attraction to the confident Oliver. Not long after the two first meet, Elio retires to his room and reclines in his bed, looking at the tuft of hair sprouting from his armpit, and lazily blowing on it. A few scenes later, Elio is bold enough to sneak into Oliver’s empty room and put Oliver’s swimsuit over his head.

Guadagnino doesn’t include these moments to advance the plot or to let the audience in on some secret; the connection between Elio and Oliver is apparent very quickly. Rather, he’s trying to sketch a portrait of personal, formative experiences of sexuality, and of Elio’s relationship with his own body. It’s tremendously insightful work from a director who has long appreciated actors’ bodies as more than aesthetic objects. In his 2009 film I Am Love, Guadagnino presented Tilda Swinton—as a married woman having a dangerous affair—at her most ravishing, and then spends the movie digging into her vulnerable psyche. In A Bigger Splash, a music producer played by Ralph Fiennes was all physicality, dancing wildly for the camera in an extended introduction, but Guadagnino goes on to expose just how strung out his character really was.

Even compared to the director’s previous films (which are excellent and worth watching), Call Me by Your Name  is a huge step forward for Guadagnino. The story manages to transcend all its genre trappings: This isn’t just a luxurious vacation movie, but it’s still crammed to the gills with gorgeous shots of the Italian countryside and Elio’s family home. This isn’t just an erotic drama, and yet the love scenes are all choreographed with care. And most importantly, this isn’t just a coming-of-age tale, but the ardor Elio and Oliver have for each other feels utterly vital, as if every touch will be seared into their memories.

Chalamet is handed the difficult task of making Elio authentically aloof and cold at times. Though he’s a teenager desperate for the approval of everyone around him, he possesses a vulnerability that he displays only occasionally. Hammer, who could so easily be reduced to the part of a typically handsome Hollywood stand-in, is mesmerizing; he switches between Oliver’s public brashness and private tenderness with ease, making his character far more than a simple object of desire. And lurking in the background is Stuhlbarg, wonderful as a knowing father who is content to mostly let his son figure things out by himself, but who steps in with a guiding hand when things get a little tougher. (He also delivers one of the most astonishing film monologues of recent memory.)

Call Me by Your Name  soaks in that end-of-summer mood throughout, one where each move in Elio and Oliver’s courtship is loaded with tension (simply because their time together is so short, and thus so meaningful). As such, it’s thrilling to watch, even as the pair waste the days away swimming, biking, and talking around their feelings; when their dynamic finally explodes into passion, it’s one of the year’s most satisfying film moments. Each element is carefully calibrated, but deployed with consummate grace—this is a film to rush to, and to then savor every minute of.



  DAVID SIMS is a senior associate editor at The Atlantic, where he covers culture.

"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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The same can be said for blood, such as the blood that suddenly, inexplicably spills from Elio’s nose at dinner. Or such as the blood crusted on a nasty gash on Oliver’s hip. When he first shows his wound to Elio, it’s a sensual tease—though a gory one. Later, right after their first make-out, Oliver points to the injury again, this time to kill the mood. “I think it’s starting to get infected,” he says. These touches—pungent, corporal—fit with a story about physical desire. But they also inject a note of queasiness, raising the thought of the body’s fragility.







CALLMEBYYOURNAMEFANART
https://twitter.com/mellowbeat__

by @mellowbeat__








The stealth and and stubbornness of his caresses sent chills down my spine. A sudden giddiness overtook me. No, I wasn't going to cry, this wasn't a panic attack, it wasn't a "swoon," and I wasn't going to come in my shorts either, though I liked this very, very much, especially when the arch of his foot lay on top of my foot. When I looked at my dessert plate and saw the chocolate cake speckled with raspberry juice, it seemed to me that someone was pouring more and more red sauce than usual, and that the sauce seemed to be coming from the ceiling above my head until it suddenly hit me that it was streaming from my nose. I gasped, and quickly crumpled my napkin and brought it to my nose, holding my head as far back as I could. "Ghiaccio, ice, Mafalda, per favore, presto," I said, softly, to show that I was in perfect control of the situation. "I was up at the hill this morning. Happens all the time," I apologizing to the guests.

There was a scuffle of quick sounds as people rushed in and out of the dining room. I had shut my eyes. Get a grip, I kept saying to myself, get a grip. Don't let your body give the whole thing away.

"Was it my fault?" he asked when he stopped into my bedroom after lunch.

I did not reply. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

He smiled and said nothing.





Call Me By Your Name  by André Aciman
Recited/Narrated by Armie Hammer





A few scenes from Call Me By Your Name  taken at a premiere, source unknown.
https://twitter.com/badpostchalamet  @badpostchalamet  timothée updates
https://twitter.com/apeachpricot  @apeachpricot






CALLMEBYYOURNAMEFANART by @mellowbeat__

https://twitter.com/mellowbeat__


Sept 30 and Oct 01, 2017

#CMBYN   #CallMeByYourName   #Elio #Oliver  #laterpeaches  #🍑
#elio perlman  #oliver  #ulliva
#andré aciman  #armie hammer  #timothée chalamet  #luca guadagnino  
#book   #novel   #film  #movie  #sonyclassics   #lgbt
#art #artwork #artist #illustration



« Last Edit: February 19, 2018, 10:33:38 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Note the aesthetics of the final scenes. The world is frozen over outside the Perlman house, but inside there is fire and food. The t-shirts Elio wore in summer have been replaced not only by warmer clothes, but also by more bold, even flamboyant, ones. The pattern on his billowy, tucked-in shirt shows a crowd of androgynous faces. As he cries by the fire, a fly crawls across those faces.

The shirt’s design is so reminiscent of ’80s urban life that, whether they’re meant to or not, viewers might start to think of the artist Keith Haring, whose work came to be associated with the fight against HIV/AIDS. Or they may simply think of what that decade meant for queer men, both the closeted ones like Oliver and the growing class of liberated ones like Elio. The book version of Call Me by Your Name  was set in 1987, but Guadagnino moved the story to 1983 because, he has said, “’83 is the year—in Italy at least—where the ’70s are killed, when everything that was great about the ’70s is definitely shut down.” Part of that shut-down, any cultural history will attest, is that the sexual awakening of the ’60s, which fed the libertine ’70s, smacked into a hard, deadly reality: AIDS.





https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2018/01/the-shadow-over-call-me-by-your-name/549269/






[youtube=1100,650]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzFQ4CgWYY4[/youtube]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzFQ4CgWYY4/size]

It's up again, this time with a different poster.

SPOILER! This is the actual
last 3:42 of the movie--
IF YOU WANT TO WAIT
UNTIL YOU SEE THE MOVIE
DON'T WATCH THE VIDEO!
Timothée Chalamet - as Elio
Call Me by Your Name
Sufjan Stevens - Visions of Gideon

This is the ending scene of the movie "Call Me By Your Name".
Music "Visions Of Gideon - Sufjan Stevens"

All copyrighted material belongs their respective owners


Huy Doan
Published on Dec 21, 2017


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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It’s rare that a movie offers two kinds of acting virtuosity. But Call Me by Your Name  does. We’re given the deeply gifted Timothée Chalamet’s emotional transparency and intuitive physicality (that scene where he finally gets Armie Hammer to himself and climbs  him was maybe the most joyous moment I saw in a movie this year).

(....)

I’ve been waiting my whole life to see one movie about same-sex first love that was not, on some level, about othering, ostracism, or the oppression of homophobia—a love story that isn’t also a de facto issue movie. It is a brilliant stroke--








http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/the_movie_club/features/2018/movie_club_2017/_2017_movies_like_get_out_didn_t_predict_the_future.html


Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name.


Call Me By Your Name ’s detractors are wrong to insist
that its sex scenes should have been more explicit.


By Mark Harris
JAN. 4 2018 12:01 PM


EXCERPT:


(....)

This year’s best movies seemed to spark a lot of discussion about endings.

(....)

Which brings me to the dialogue-free ending of Call Me by Your Name—that minutes-long close-up in which Timothée Chalamet’s Elio, still processing, starts to come to terms with the end of one narrative and the beginning of his own. It’s rare that a movie offers two kinds of acting virtuosity. But Call Me  does. We’re given the deeply gifted Chalamet’s emotional transparency and intuitive physicality (that scene where he finally gets Armie Hammer to himself and climbs  him was maybe the most joyous moment I saw in a movie this year). And in contrast, we have Michael Stuhlbarg’s indelible work as Elio’s father—an example of what a great actor with decades of experience, after unostentatiously building and deepening his character with very limited screen time throughout the movie, can bring forth within a single climactic monologue. Stuhlbarg opens up a man’s soul—he gives us a father’s loving delicacy about presuming too much, a conflicted middle-aged romantic’s unvoiced regrets, and a professor’s desire to teach a pupil. To be in a moviehouse and hear people start to cry at that moment is the best argument for the communality of the theatrical experience I can make. Well, that and Wonder Woman.

I liked Beach Rats  very much; although its end felt to me slightly too didactic a take on the cost of the closet, the film is true and observant and compassionate, one of the highlights of a generally strong year for LGBTQ movies (see also God’s Own Country  and BPM (Beats Per Minute), among others). Perhaps because I’m about the age that Elio would be today, Call Me by Your Name  sits atop that list for me. I’ve been waiting my whole life to see one movie about same-sex first love that was not, on some level, about othering, ostracism, or the oppression of homophobia—a love story that isn’t also a de facto issue movie. It is a brilliant stroke, I think, to set Call Me  in a chronological, class, and geographic bubble—nobody can say anything about the “privilege” of these characters that the movie doesn’t say itself. If any dissent from its very warm reception has frustrated me, it’s the low drumbeat from some gay writers that the movie somehow pulls its punches—that it’s too polite to look at sex between Elio and Oliver, that it should show more, that it needs to go there.

No, it doesn’t. First of all, nudity as a signpost of artistic integrity is something we should all move past. Second, penises are about the most readily available commodity in the whole large world of gay indies. But what dismays me most is that this critique feels like it’s about what the critic wants rather than what the movie needs. I haven’t heard a persuasive case that something meaningful would be articulated about Elio or Oliver if you showed sucking or erections or penetration; it feels more like an ideological insistence that Call Me  should have the balls, no pun intended, to risk affronting more people, to be more in-your-face. As if the movie were a candidate that somehow failed to placate its base. (It’s also strange to see what’s described as Call Me ’s reticence invoked as symptomatic of a double standard, as if mainstream heterosexual romantic dramas are brimming with vulvas and cumshots.) Yes, André Aciman’s novel is more explicit (in ways that feel persuasive and ways that don’t), but novels aren’t movies, and to put it plainly, I don’t think that a film adaptation owes its audience dick in that regard.

I want to focus on one crucial shot, when Luca Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom move the camera off of Elio and Oliver as they’re about to have sex. If you view that action as moving away, as avoiding something, as fearfulness, you miss what the camera is moving toward. In one of the film’s few temporal markers, it pans across a poster on the wall next to the bed—a French Open drawing of Björn Borg that is prominently dated 1981. Just two years later—right when the movie takes place—Larry Kramer’s AIDS warning “1,112 And Counting” would appear in the New York Native. Kramer’s words—“Our continued existence as gay men upon the face of this earth is at stake. Unless we fight for our lives, we shall die”—convey a vast and dangerous world outside of the very temporary sanctuary in which Elio and Oliver find themselves. We are in their present, but suddenly also in our past. Safe sex is probably not on their minds at that moment—not in the Eden that, as the camera moves past the wall to a tree outside the window, you’re reminded they are inhabiting only temporarily. For me, it’s a moment of sharp sorrow, not of timidity. To be sure, it can be valuable to think about what, or who, a movie doesn’t show you; it’s always worth considering what’s outside the borders. But sometimes, while you’re policing the margins, you can miss what’s right in front of you.



"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Well, here's a new video
for Mystery of Love (2017)
released today:




[youtube=1100,590]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQT32vW61eI[/youtube]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQT32vW61eI


'Mystery of Love' (2017)
(Sufjan Stevens)


Music video for “Mystery of Love” by Sufjan Stevens from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack
featuring footage from the film as well as footage filmed at the M.A.N.
(Museo Archeologico Nazionale of Naples).

Call Me By Your Name is Now Playing in Select Theaters, playing nationwide on Friday, January 19th.



Pitchfork
Published on Jan 4, 2018


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline southendmd

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Oy, the Golden Globes.

CMBYN didn't win anything.  

Armie lost to Sam Rockwell in "Three Billboards...".  Haven't seen it. Check this in the Times.

Best song went to the ungrammatical, generic, bloviating mess "This is Me" from "Greatest Showman". Poor Sufjan, not even nominated.  The other nominations were all from animated films.

Timothée lost to Gary Oldman as Churchill in "Darkest Hour".  Why, oh, why, do these shows continue to award impressions of real people?  Especially those from the 20th century where there are hundreds of hours of footage and recordings???  Rather than a complicated character created out of airy nothing?  (Of course, I'm also thinking of Heath's Ennis vs. Philip Seymour Hoffman's Capote impression.)  It was some consolation to see Timothée up on stage with the cast of "Lady Bird", that won for Best Comedy/Musical.

And Best Drama went to (what critic Wesley Morris called) "the moral and emotional and metaphorical confusion that is ‘Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.'"  It seems violence trumps love.

Offline Front-Ranger

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Timothée lost to Gary Oldman as Churchill in "Darkest Hour".  Why, oh, why, do these shows continue to award impressions of real people?  Especially those from the 20th century where there are hundreds of hours of footage and recordings???  Rather than a complicated character created out of airy nothing?  (Of course, I'm also thinking of Heath's Ennis vs. Philip Seymour Hoffman's Capote impression.)  

That is a good point. Perhaps they should create separate awards, like they do for best original script/best adapted script. Call Me By Your Name is winning with audiences, anyway!
Too much to do. . .I don't have time to get old!

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Call Me By Your Name  is winning with audiences, anyway!


Thanks, Lee. I don't know, though. Without a few wins, nominations alone could cause the potential audience to dwindle.  




And Best Drama went to (what critic Wesley Morris called) "the moral and emotional and metaphorical confusion that is ‘Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.'"  It seems violence trumps love.


You know, Paul, I'm not the most objective person re Call Me, but I have a separate, very subjective iron in this fire.

Ok, for years  I have loathed and despised Martin McDonagh. Now I put him lower than Paul Haggis. Well, I said I was anything but objective.


 >:(

"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline gattaca

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While I am not discounting those winning the "Golden Globes" we need to remember that the voting membership is about 90 people (that's it)  who when all is said and done, are not substantial film critics. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hollywood_Foreign_Press_Association 

I will not place a lot of dismay for CMBYN b/c of the GG.  They really have done a PR job on the public.

V.
How do you hide when you are running from yourself?

Offline southendmd

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BAFTAs announced today.

CMBYN has several nominations:  Best Film, Best Director for Luca, Best Leading Actor for Timothée, Best Adapted Screenplay for James, and "Rising Star Award" for Timothée (this is voted by the public).

Awards are presented February 18 at the Royal Albert Hall.