Call Me By Your Name (2017)
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (5/5)

“More than a love story—Call Me By Your Name is a memory you can feel on your skin.”

Some films don’t just tell a story—they transport you. Call Me By Your Name is one of those rare cinematic experiences that feels less like watching a movie and more like remembering a summer you never actually lived, but somehow still miss.

Set in the sun-drenched countryside of Northern Italy in the 1980s, the film follows Elio (Timothée Chalamet), a 17-year-old boy navigating the awkward poetry of youth, and Oliver (Armie Hammer), a charismatic American scholar who enters his family’s orbit. What begins as a slow, teasing friendship quietly unravels into something delicate, forbidden, and achingly beautiful.

Chalamet gives a performance that is raw, vulnerable, and mature beyond his years—capturing every flicker of desire, every sting of hesitation. Hammer’s Oliver is both magnetic and emotionally guarded, the kind of character you fall for and curse in the same breath.

Director Luca Guadagnino doesn’t rush. Every frame lingers. Every glance matters. The peaches are ripe, the bicycles squeak on gravel, and the afternoons stretch endlessly. It’s sensual without being explicit, intimate without needing to say much. The silence between words speaks louder than any monologue.

The now-iconic final scene—Elio by the fire, tears in his eyes, Sufjan Stevens echoing in the background—is a masterclass in cinematic heartbreak. It doesn’t ask for your tears. It earns them.

Call Me By Your Name isn’t just about love—it’s about the haunting echo it leaves behind. A film that doesn’t end with the credits, but stays with you like sunlight on your skin long after summer’s gone.