FILM REVIEW: Maze Runner: The Death Cure (2018)

Directed by Wes Ball

**1/2

As with most films based on young adult fiction, from my observation anyway, there’s a sense of danger that these stories are lacking in. Maze Runner: The Death Cure is no exception. In spite of the barren apocalyptic wasteland that threatens the heroes daily, what kind of danger are they in if they never seem to have any issue keeping their hair perfectly groomed, their faces free from soot, and their designer clothes intact?

But I digress.

I confess that I never saw the first Maze Runner. I saw The Scorch Trials, and while I remember the latter being a fairly decent movie, the vast majority of it has faded from memory. With this in mind, take my review of the saga’s latest and final installment with a grain of salt. I’m sure fans of the novels will relish in seeing their favorite characters and their journey up on the big screen. And that’s okay. Context aside, though, it is still my duty to review The Death Cure regardless, and I dare not compromise that integrity.

Of course, I was somewhat lost in the opening moments of The Death Cure, but I was able to gather the following: Minho (Ki Hong Lee), one of the heroes, has been captured by the WCKD (the antagonistic organization of the series) and is being transported…somewhere against his will, along with countless other young men and women. But Minho’s friends, led by Thomas (Dylan O’Brien), aren’t letting him be taken without a fight. So, a high speed chase ensues like (think Mad Max, Jr.), they free a car full of prisoners, but only to find out Minho is absent, still in the clutches of WCKD. Now it is a matter of freeing him from “The Last City”, which is exactly what it is – the last standing city in this apocalyptic landscape.

Cut to Minho. There is something in his blood that WCKD must harness in an effort to combat the plague that has ravaged humanity and populated the earth with 28 Days Later-style zombies. Enter Janson (Aidan Gillen), the head of WCKD (I think). He is the primary antagonist that we are supposed to fear, but he is an actor with zero presence or menace whatsoever. He’s just kind of there for the sake of being there. It’s only been a few hours since I finished the movie and I already forget what he looks like.

What follows is a story of discovery, friendship, betrayal, redemption, sacrifice, and other such staples of a young adult novel adaptation – with plenty of action, of course. For what it is, it’s fine. It moves at a steady enough pace without plodding, which is nice for somebody practically unaware of the context of anything. The action sequences are enjoyable. As a matter of fact, the climactic showdown at the WCKD building is very well done (the solid set design here helps out). To my surprise, The Death Cure was quite grisly in parts. While I’m not adding or subtracting merit from this alone, I was also surprised by the phenomenal quality of the make-up. There’s a little girl that is infected with the virus, and I was sincerely convinced she was.

One of the key elements of stories like these is the camaraderie and friendship between the heroes. Perhaps if I watched Maze Runner and revisited The Scorch Trials, the bonds would feel tighter, but there’s just none of that wonderful togetherness in The Death Cure, which seems almost exclusively concerned with Thomas. The rest of the cast, consisting of people of all gender and race, seem to exist as tokens considering their almost complete lack of any kind of character.

If there is any other character that gets to share the spotlight, it is Minho. One observation I made is the overacting from everybody. I’m not going to over-criticize this – it’s simply the kind of overacting from actors who are still learning the craft. These actors are simply in a stage where they think high-intensity equals acting. This is evident in everybody, but from Ki Hong Lee in particular. I didn’t want to laugh because I know he’s trying, but it was still kind of difficult not to snicker a tad.

I’m not particularly proud of this review. Perhaps with more insight in the story, I would have a better (or worse) and more confident opinion on The Death Cure. All I can really say is it wasn’t the kind of movie I would go out of my way to see – it still isn’t, but I didn’t have any issue sitting through it. For a passer-by moviegoer like myself in this situation, it’s nothing terribly special. For followers of the saga, I have no desire to steer you away from this final chapter. I have no doubt you’ll enjoy it. 

FILM REVIEW: Phantom Thread (2017)

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

**1/2

There exists a great film – perhaps even a masterpiece – somewhere within Phantom Thread. It’s just too bad that there appears to be little to no incentive to go looking for that great film.

Paul Thomas Anderson is an admirable and skilled enough filmmaker, and I have enough respect for him in that regard – especially considering he has never made the same film twice. That said, his films usually fail to leave me completely satisfied. Boogie Nights, though an enjoyable film, was simply GoodFellas set in the ‘70s porn industry (a formula I feel was overused in the ‘90s). Magnolia was one of the greatest ensemble dramas I’d ever seen ultimately thwarted by one of the stupidest endings in movie history.

The Master, in spite of its compelling characters and performances, had little substance of interest, though I must confess that the ‘Processing’ scene is one of the best of the 21^st century. I remember absolutely nothing about Punch-Drunk Love, and I’m yet to see Hard Eight and Inherent Vice at the time of this review. It’s truly a shame to have to report all of this, because I know the greatness he is capable of. Case in point: his 2007 magnum opus There Will be Blood.

And now we have Phantom Thread, where all the potential is nullified by the film’s utter insipidity.

Day-Lewis is Reynolds Woodcock. He is first introduced going about his morning routine – he shaves, he snips the hairs from his nose, he shines his shoes, and so on. This is all handled a way that suggests a man of meticulousness, precision, and perfection, yet there is also something rather casual about his manner. Perhaps he is a perfectionist not because of power-hungry tyranny, but rather of deep-rooted insecurity.

He proceeds on to another day at the office. Reynolds is a dress-maker, which his perfectionism carries over into. As a result, Reynolds’ work is widely renowned. In one particular scene I really enjoyed, he is out to dinner when he is approached by two young women flabbergasted to be in his presence, as if Reynolds was a movie star. One of the blurts out how she is so in love with Reynolds’ dresses that she wants to wear one to her grave. Oh, how we lose all self-control in front of our idols.

Reynolds is having breakfast one morning when he sees something in his clumsy waitress, Alma (Vicky Krieps). He asks her to dinner, and she agrees. After their evening out, he takes her back to his home. It is here that Reynolds’ insecurities begin to surface: he is a man unable to overcome the death of his mother (Freud would find an exceptional subject in Reynolds). When she asks why he is not married, he firmly believes he must lead a life of permanent bachelordom as a dress-maker.

They move forward with the evening. She tries on dresses, he observes and admires in a fashion that suggests sexual undercurrents – I was reminded of the early photography sequences in Blow-Up, but in a more elegant and tasteful way in Phantom Thread.

From this evening forward, Alma finds herself the muse and object of romantic interest of Reynolds.

While I was invested enough, I was waiting for the movie to really grip me. When we get to this point, my interest was soaring. Unfortunately, this is about as interesting as Phantom Thread gets. It dwells and dwells and dwells some more. There is no apparent cultivation in the relationship of Alma and Reynolds. Alma’s timid clumsiness finds itself in conflict with the perfectionism of Reynolds, an interesting dynamic (though nothing particularly new).

I shouldn’t be criticizing the surface elements of Phantom Thread, as it is clearly a film that is driven primarily by its undercurrents and underlined themes. Fine. I love films that work like this. Defenders of Phantom Threads will probably clamor in presenting their analyses. I am more than welcoming of those who want to tell me what the film means, but it still fails for me at the end of the day. Sure, its sets and costumes are exceptions, but the film around the elegant production is just plain dry. It’s almost like decorative fruit: as good as it looks, there is zero flavor. No matter how good it looks, if it tastes less than stellar, why should I continue consumption?

To talk about Phantom Thread without talking about Daniel Day-Lewis is an impossibility. Along with being his second collaboration with Anderson, this is also his final film role before retirement, and it leaves much to be desired. It’s a fine performance, but these same two men were the driving forces of There Will be Blood, which resulted in not only a masterpiece, but quite possibly the greatest lead male performance of the 21^st Century. I don’t think it’s unfair to have expected a bit more.

Phantom Thread has been receiving acclaim since its premier on Christmas 2017. I anticipate many fans of P.T. Anderson will find another worthy addition to his filmography. I wish I could hop on the bandwagon, as I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I spite of his lackluster performance, I wish Daniel Day-Lewis a great retirement. As for Anderson, I am left unsatisfied once again. Perhaps next time, though.

FILM REVIEW: Hostiles (2017)

Directed by Scott Cooper

***1/2

The characters in Hostiles seem to exist in a perpetual state of shock, as if having just bore witness to some great cataclysm. Their eyes are devoid of liveliness, their voices are worn and raspy. When somebody sings, it’s less to have fun and pass the time than to comfort themselves. The world around them, once a promising frontier of opportunity, has become an unforgiving wilderness that has swallowed them whole - the result of their own prejudice, violent actions, and other such human follies.

Hostiles is a terrific new western. Revising the Cowboys & Indians formula, the result is a film that is ponderous and poignant, but also hardened and audacious.

The very mood of Hostiles is embodied in Christian Bale’s performance as Joe Blocker, a captain in the Army just short of retirement. This is not new or groundbreaking territory for Bale as an actor – as a matter of fact, it’s pretty much typical Bale. While not necessarily a bad thing, it’s a role that builds on his capabilities. In Hostiles, the notes are hit flawlessly.

He is summoned for a mission: escort the incarcerated Native Chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi) and his family to their homeland – this is an order directly from the President of the United States. Blocker doesn’t like savages. Not one bit, and he is not afraid to show it. He is especially contemptuous and wary for Yellow Hawk, but not without his reasons. Almost as if he is pleading for relief from this mission, Blocker explicitly recalls Chief Yellow Hawk’s gruesome atrocities.

The commanding officer threatens Blocker with a court martial if he doesn’t comply. Blocker takes the job, but it appears he would rather be court martialed. Blocker assembles a team to assist in the escort. They mount their horses and begin their arduous trek. The moment opportunity permits, Blocker has the natives shackled.

Along the way, they come across Rosalie Quaid (Rosamund Pike) hunkered inside the burnt remains of her home. In the opening scene, her husband and three young children – including a newborn infant – are shot dead by a group of natives. She is traumatized by the experience. Blocker offers his hospitality, which she accepts. When she sees the natives travelling with them, she cannot contain her hysteria.

Of course, the ravage from the natives is not entirely unjustified. After all, their land was suddenly taken from them without apparent reason from the white race. Rosalie finds herself in the same shoes. As far as we know, she has done no harm to these people. All she wanted was to live in harmony with her family in this new land. And then it’s all taken from her, once again without apparent reason.

What makes Hostiles so effective is also what makes it so difficult to discuss. It is completely unapologetic – there is blood on everybody’s hands, and the film is not afraid to show it. The natives have every right to fight back for their land, yet how could one possibly justify the gun murder of an infant? After Rosalie’s ordeal, she repeatedly and monstrously shoots a dead native with a revolver (even after the gun has emptied) after a gunfight, almost as if she is possessed.

The past is the past, though. Sometimes, all that matters is now is now. Our characters realize this; early in their trek, Chief Yellow Hawk notifies Captain Blocker that they are passing through Commanche territory, who kill indiscriminately. He requests that they be unlocked from their shackles. As hesitant as he is, he lets them free.

I dare not say where the story goes from here, though you can probably figure the rest for yourself. Perhaps a bad sign, but Hostiles rarely comes off as heavy-handed in its message of prejudice and redemption (though this may differ from viewer to viewer). It is a journey worth taking, made all the more compelling by Masanobu Takayanagi’s cinematography. I cannot recall, in recent years anyway, the last time I saw the American landscape itself captured so beautifully – I am a sucker for photogenic landscapes, though, so do mind my bias. Regardless, though, I have no doubt your eyes will be pleased.

Alongside Bale, our other key player is Rosamund Pike in a spine-tingling portrayal of a woman completely broken. When she is first seen, she sits on the bedside in her burnt house, dead newborn in hand, the rest of the dead family on the bed. There is an urgency and desperation in the way she cradles and rocks her baby, as if her own innocence (now obliterated) is right there in her arms. Maybe not subtle, but heart-wrenching nonetheless.

And now here she is, traversing the frontier alongside not only the natives who frighten her so deeply, but Captain Blocker, a jaded man who was maybe broken in a way similar to Pike’s Rosalie. I think there is supposed to be a sort of dynamic in this vein, but this results in the film’s weaknesses. I greatly admire the reserved ponderousness of Hostiles, but there tends to be an over-reliance on silence to say everything. This tends to make certain elements, characters especially, feel underdeveloped.

Hostiles is far from the masterpiece it could have been. Alongside the issues above, dialogue tends to leave something to be desired, feeling generic half the time. In spite of this, it was never enough to take away from the film’s potency, making for a moving experience that is hopeful in the face of divided times. I hope other westerns are taking note of Hostiles – the genre has needed a film like this for quite some time.

FILM REVIEW: Den of Thieves (2018)

Directed by Christian Gudegast

***

Though indebted to the likes of Heat and The Usual Suspects, along with a few missteps, Den of Thieves still comes out – guns blazing, of course – as a kinetic frenzy and finely crafted heist picture, as well as an exciting start to 2018.

           

An armored truck is robbed in the wee hours of the morning. Equipped with military grade weaponry and state-of-the-art tools, things seem to be going fine until somebody starts shooting, resulting in a few dead cops. Merrimen (Pablo Schreiber), the head honcho, is not pleased about this. To top it all off, like some big joke, the truck is empty. A few hours later, the cops are on the scene.

Gerard Butler stars as Nick, a hardboiled detective that seems to have seen Bad Lieutenant a few too many times. He has no issues playing cop on his own terms, complete with shamelessly bullying the FBI and torturing suspects during interrogations. When investigating the crime scene at the donut shop, he takes a donut out of a bloody box. When he’s off the clock, Nick spends his free time with his posse of similarly no-BS cops, complete with hard liquor and suggestively choice women.

The robbers move on and prepare for the next gig: $10 million straight from the Federal Reserve.

At the center of the action is Donnie (O’Shea Jackson), the young and wary but exceptionally experienced getaway driver. When he’s not behind the wheel, he works as a bartender. One particular shift, he finds himself having casual bartender-to-patron chit-chat with Nick. A few moments later, after being tazed and knocked out, Donnie finds himself in the clutches of Nick and co., complete with an interrogation complete with a beat-down.

If Donnie’s not cautiously giving out information bits at a time to the former, he’s prepping for the next gig with the latter. Serving as a link between the two gangs, he’s easily the strongest character in the film, made all the more compelling and likeable with Jackson’s performance.

If the heist’s not being planned, we’re bouncing back and forth between the cops and thieves. The latter seem to be a group of decent guys, treating every get-together like a family gathering. In one scene, the daughter of one of the thieves is awaiting her prom date. The father takes the date for a…talking to, so to speak (and without spoiling too much). Then the gang all share a hearty laugh afterward.  

And then there’s Nick. The first time we see him at home, his wife has discovered his vices and leaves him in an instant, taking their children with her. I can’t blame her for leaving him, considering most of his behavior consists of him being drunk and belligerent, making scenes in public. I know there are corrupt cops out there, believe me, but it’s kind of amazing this guy hasn’t had his badge taken from him.

These scenes never really go anywhere, but they were well-done enough that I was rather welcoming of them. That said, these can be an issue for others, as Den of Thieves is perhaps just a little too ambiguous as far as who to root for. It is one thing if this were some sort of profound cinematic meditation on morality, but that’s not what this film is, nor does it need to be. Not that the film has to be crystal clear as far as who the heroes and villains are. Take Heat for instance; both Pacino and De Niro weren’t exactly a traditional good and a bad guy, respectively, but they weren’t polar opposites like Butler and Schreiber are. But like I said, this wasn’t an issue for me.

And besides, we’ve got bigger and better things to cover here.

Den of Thieves knows exactly where heist thrillers shine brighter: watching the heist unfold. There’s just a level of excitement that heist sequences project that cannot be matched. Director Christian Gudegast knows this, goes all out as far as heist scenes go, and nails it. The heist is planned and imagined at every single detail. Then it’s time to pull the job off. The heist sequence is pretty much the entire second half of the movie, and not once does it lose its momentum. It’s like walking a tightrope that gets tighter and thinner with each step.

Then BAM! All hell breaks loose in a frantic shootout that really wants to be Heat. It got the job done, but it still leaves something to be desired (then again, I doubt the magic of Heat’s famous shootout can be captured again). The movie is on the verge of being over…but not before a twist ending, the kind that make you re-think the entire movie. Unfortunately, it has a hand-wave quality to it that leads me to think they wedged it in at the very last minute (perhaps sequel-baiting?).

The crude machismo and skid row vulgarity may be a bit too gratuitous for some. Others will cross their arms at the film’s attempt (granted, an admirable one) at its more human dead-end side stories. Capped with a runtime of 140 minutes (a very common criticism, I’ve noticed), I can understand how Den of Thieves could be a grueling watch for some. Nonetheless, it’s a wonderful tribute of sorts to the Hollywood heist picture that results in a bloody good time.

FILM REVIEW: Forever My Girl (2018)

Directed by Bethany Ashton Wolf

**

As Forever My Girl opens, Josie (Jessica Rothe) is only minutes away from marrying Liam Page (Alex Roe), and in case you don’t notice her excitement, her country-girl “charm” will definitely make sure to remind you. A tragedy of sorts occurs when the groom decides not to show up. Fast forward eight years, and the would-be groom becomes a musical superstar. I’m sorry, but you can’t seriously make me believe for one second that a small-town country boy would be that easily swayed by the glitz and riches of stardom that he would completely skip out on his wedding without telling anybody.

Ten or so minutes in and I’m already flabbergasted by the utter ineptitude of Forever My Girl. Little did I expect a plot point this important would become a disgusting scapegoat – more on that later.

There is a half-baked explanation in the film’s final stretch what exactly happened on the would-be wedding day, which still begs me to ask – if this turn of events occurred this suddenly, wouldn’t he at least call? Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be thrilled either if my wedding had to be cancelled this second, but something's better than nothing. As events unfold, Liam was apparently quite respectable once upon a time.

But that was then. Now, Liam is a country musician at a laughable level of stardom. He can’t have a simple conversation with anybody without everybody having an orgasm by simply being in his presence. When he goes for a stroll down the sidewalk, it turns into a full-blown sprint when his fans chase him down relentlessly. Of course, you can’t be a star without being a complete egomaniac. So, there’s Liam, tossing his towel in his manager’s face and other such typical star behavior. At one point in the film, Liam has to be reminded how to wash dishes.

Did I mention that Forever My Girl is supposed to be a drama?

While on tour, Liam discovers that his best friend is killed in a car accident. He drops his tour plans and heads home for the funeral. The catch: this is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody. There are going to be nothing but unhappy faces greeting Liam, and he knows it. One of those unhappy faces is Josie and the daughter he never knew he had, Billy (Abby Ryder Fortson), who is seven years old but talks and has the vocabulary and with of somebody ten years older. Maybe it’s trying to be charming. Does the tone of this review suggest it worked?

Indeed, Liam is confronted. Again, and again, and again. Apparently, to leave your small-town life for a life of stardom (a dream for almost everybody) is a crime worthy of exile. Yeah, how dare he move on from small-town life and pursue something more exciting. It was getting to the point where I almost completely forgot about Liam’s mishap and ended up having unconditional sympathy for him.

Defenders of Forever My Girl (and there will be very few, if any) will cry out that “But wait! They’re mad because he stood his fiancée up!” Skipping out on your fiancée’s wedding isn’t exactly the hip thing these days, I completely agree. Plot twist: that little “disgusting scapegoat” I mentioned? Well, lo and behold.

Forever My Girl is not the kind of movie I’d go out of my way to see otherwise, so I might as well sit through the rest of this thing (damn you, film criticism aspirations), and what I got, aside from the questionable values of small-town life, is TV-grade melodrama complete with insultingly predictable contrivances, and idiotic ones at that. I can live with Josie deciding to give Liam a second chance, but there comes a point where she gives him a third chance. Without spoilers: for her to give Liam a third chance after the weight of a particular incident (you'll know the one), Josie really needs to rethink what she looks for in a man. 

I wish I could articulate more, but there's nothing to articulate on. It resembles a factory-fed attempt at appealing to the masses without concern for what makes said appeals, well, appealing. It’s a common criticism, but I can’t help but cave in: save yourself the trip to the theater and just tune in for the next Lifetime movie – just be sure to set it to some kickin’ country music.

You may have noticed that Forever My Girl managed to get away with two stars, so there are clearly saving graces. There’s nothing Oscar-worthy here, but everybody involved at least put everything they were capable of, and it does show. Even with her dialogue stripped of all believability, there is an adorability to Abby Ryder Foster. Speaking of her, there is actually a really charming scene between Billy, Liam, a carton of ice cream, and perhaps some hidden guitar talent in Billy waiting to shine.

The country music angle is perhaps the one reason to watch Forever My Girl, if that’s your thing. The music is surprisingly tolerable, and this is coming from somebody who finds the genre commonly insufferable. Otherwise, there is absolutely zero reason to watch this. No original ideas, no interesting characters, nothing of significance to offer. I won’t spoil the ending, but once you see the movie, allow me to ask: what is there to spoil, really?

FILM REVIEW: 12 Strong (2018)

Directed by Nicolai Fuglsig

**1/2

12 Strong is a competent enough film with enough heart and soul that make for a worthwhile trip to the cinema. However, it is riddled with shortcomings and missed opportunities that, unfortunately, glare just a little too brightly. It is all the more frustrating considering just how remarkable the true story is.

For those unfamiliar, here is the abridged version of the story: the titular “12 Strong” were formally known as ODA 595, the very first Special Forces unit sent to Afghanistan following the terrorist attacks of September 11. Their mission was to join forces with a collective of Uzbek warlords to drive the Taliban out of Afghan city Mazar-I-Sharif. The twist of the story, for lack of a better term: they were required to travel by horseback.

One of the finer elements of 12 Strong is the tension as a result of these circumstances. The barren vistas of Afghanistan project the enemy’s presence everywhere and nowhere all at once. Not only are these men forced to confront a foreign enemy in a foreign landscape, but they must do it by way of unconventional and vulnerable transportation. To top it all off, the vast majority of ODA 595 have no idea how to even ride a horse.  When it comes time to do battle, the horses make for an interesting spin on a depiction of modern warfare. I was fondly reminded of certain battle scenes from Red Dawn, and this isn’t meant to come off as an insult.

Beyond this, 12 Strong is a film that rises and sets things up only to hit plateaus: it never goes downhill, per se, but never continues to rise, either.

Leading ODA 595 is Captain Mitch Nelson (Chris Hemsworth), and here is one of the film’s biggest issues. It is nothing to do with Hemsworth’s performances (he is just fine), not even anything to do with the character. In a team of twelve with one hell of a story to tell their grandchildren, only Captain Nelson has any significant presence and contribution to the ordeal. The remaining eleven are almost completely shoved to the sidelines, regardless of the talent cast in the roles, and there is some notable talent on display here (including Michael Shannon, one of the most striking actors working today).

Granted, the other eleven do have moments here and there that bring out the individual behind the uniform, commonly through jokes and quips exchanged between the troops. I found myself particularly compelled by Trevante Rhodes (of Moonlight fame) and his charming bond with a young Uzbek boy. The key word is “moments”, though, only hints at traits that ultimately fail to flesh out a complete character, and the Rhodes/Uzbek boy side story is no exception.

If there is any plateau that 12 Strong overcomes, it is the dynamic between Captain Nelson and General Dostum (Navid Negahban), the leader of the Uzbek warlords, and this is undoubtedly the strongest element of the film. Long story short, here are two men from completely opposite ends of the globe, completely foreign to each other’s lifestyles and cultures. Both have been wronged by the atrocities of the Taliban. While there are no buried prejudices between these two men, neither of them are completely sure if they want to take chances working side-by-side. How ironic that all that brings them together is their mutual enemy. It sounds horribly cliché, but I assure you it is anything but.

If I were to set the good and bad of 12 Strong on a scale, neither would outweigh the other. For me, it’s a weird position to be in: I enjoyed enough of it to recommend it, but I was distracted by the issues enough to score it only a 2 ½. At its core, though, it is a popcorn-grade war film. If that’s all you’re looking for (or if you’re willing to settle), I can’t say you’ll be disappointed. If you’re hoping for a transcendent depiction of an amazing story, I’m not making you any promises.

FILM REVIEW: Call Me by Your Name (2017)

Directed by Luca Guadagnino

* * * *

How vividly I recall those lazy summer days as a hermit of a child, making absolutely nothing of significance out of those summer vacations we children coveted so much. As an adult, there’s a sweetness to look back on those days of no responsibility and little to no worries. At the same time, though, we let those summers pass us by, taking every day for granted, and it’s all over much too quickly.

I was reminded of these days as I sat and watched Call Me by Your Name, one of the finest films of 2017. To write this review at this point is perhaps a redundancy – it’s already been talked about time and time again, and it’s already cliché to say it’s one of 2017’s best. Living in Tucson, however, has rendered me unable to see it until now (today was opening day). Interestingly enough, I was worried I wasn’t going to be one of those singing its praises.

It doesn’t open on any particular gripping note. It’s the summer of ’83. We meet a Jewish family of three living in the Italian countryside. Oliver, a friend of the family (and assistant to the father’s research project), pulls up one morning, bags in hand, exhausted from a long day of travel. His arrival catches the attention of the teenaged Elio, who looks down on Oliver’s arrival like lonesome royalty in a high tower. They all sit down for lunch, catching up. Elio extends an offer to show Oliver around town, which is blurted out in that suggests catharsis of some bottled-up energy. Oliver accepts.

So, they begin bonding. Oliver develops a liking to Elio, who reveals himself to be rather intelligent and insightful for his age, an avid reader and a gifted pianist. In spite of this, there’s always a cavalier attitude about them, resulting in two people who don’t seem particularly interesting (let alone protagonists for a film). They go on about their days, biking, running errands, all in the fashion of classic summer mundanity – yet underneath their interactions lies a tension, almost like two wild animals circling each other, both ready for the other to pounce.

Elio makes no secret of the feelings he has developed for Oliver. He denies Elio, but not without sympathy – he shares an intimate moment with Elio one afternoon, perhaps as an understanding of teenage sexual confusion. However, he cuts off this moment very quickly, and they move on about their business. Sometimes, feelings cannot be ignored, and Oliver won’t be here forever. He gives in. They make love. Oliver’s final days in Italy make for ones neither he nor Elio will never forget. Too bad it has to end (and so quickly). Elio is devastated.

What Call Me by Your Name captures so well is the inner turmoil of romantic uncertainty, subsequently making it an incredibly moving experience. I think it’s fair to say we’ve all met an Oliver at some point in our lives – that person who seems to embody, without exposition, everything we idealize and dearly desire in a relationship. Then fear strikes us. Do they like us back? Are they raising green flags for us to pounce, per se, or are we being overly-analytical? Let’s say we do decide to pounce – could we handle possible rejection from our ideal mate? Say we aren’t rejected, and the relationship does happen – what if it comes to an end earlier than we would like? We let these thoughts circle over and over in our minds, and before we know it, we’ve lost our chance.

However, it is often said: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

In contrast to its melancholy, Call Me by Your Name does express just as well how sweet those interactions were with that particular person, regardless of how long they might have lasted. Most noteworthy is a scene involving an apricot. I dare not spoil the details, but I assure you will know it when you see it, but within its brevity it captures all the intimate wonder of such a relationship. Within the span of just a few minutes (it felt like less than five), the scene seamlessly transitions from sexual awkwardness, ensuing hilarity, titillation, but ultimately results in tears of sexual confusion.

The setting of summertime and all of its inertia is perfectly fitting, and how appropriate that the film ends on a snowy winter day as Chanukah approaches. Just prior to the finale, there is a conversation between Elio and his father (perhaps the best scene in the film). He understands his son’s loss, and reminds him “Our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. And before you know it, your heart is worn out.” The final shot of the film is a close-up of Elio, still taking everything in. Summer ‘83 has passed him by.

But who knows what Summer '84 will bring?