Call Me By Your Name:
Taking place within six weeks at an idyllic Italian mansion, Call Me By Your Name relies a great deal on visual storytelling. Doing his best to translate James Ivory's layered and thoughtful script to the screen, Guadagnino is very deliberate and precise in building that central friendship turned romance in very natural time, so even when running within its condensed two hours, that passage of time still feels prevalent to make that central passion and trust feel earned. And in choosing to let his characters breathe, take in the lush Italian scenery, and absorb the sense of atmosphere and heritage, there's a sense of discovery that goes beyond personal exploration, its 1983 setting bearing the novelty of a time capsule, fitted with a sense of poignant intimacy.
In the starring role of teenage boy Elio, Timothee Chalamet - who also had Lady Bird to his credit - is an effortless fit. True to Guadagnino's preference for visual storytelling, Chalamet's turn is a very physically demanding role. Despite a general stance of apathy, attempting to hide the rush of feelings and desires running through his head, he too is wonderful at translating the passion and sensitivity rooted within Ivory's script, his face an ever-changing oil canvas able to convey stories purely on his own, taking us through the awakening and maturation, as well as the uncontrollable emotional swings to go along with it, that feels genuine and close to home.
And there to guide him through this turbulent journey of discovery is Armie Hammer's Oliver, bringing with him a distinctive and knowledgeable swagger, and a relaxed attitude that makes Elio's attraction to him feel natural. But just as much as he helps Elio to liberate his true feelings, It's every bit as meaningful a chance of liberation for Oliver, heralding from a pre-Aids epidemic upbringing not as forward-thinking, and knowing that eventually distance will need to be established upon his return, it makes those few, but powerful moments feel even more cherished and precious. Elsewhere you have solid support all across the board, including Michael Stuhlbarg as Elio's father, who himself is a terrific, gentle, warm presence to be felt, encapsulated with a lengthy, but beautifully played scene near the film's ending. Never for a second does Call Me By Your Name feel dishonest or misplayed, and it's thanks to Guadagnino's beautiful vision and sensitive touch that it comes together so well.
On one final note, it's often been a snarky button for critics to dismiss a film by saying "The end credits were the best part." In Call Me By Your Name's case, the end credits are the best part, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.
****1/2 / *****
Phantom Thread:
Phantom Thread marks the second collaboration between Anderson, and his There Will Be Blood lead star Daniel Day-Lewis, and it's an especially momentous film to come out, as just last year Day-Lewis officially announced his retirement from acting following the release of this movie. To say that such a day coming is a loss is an understatement, given just how triumphant and transformative a talent he is. But I respect his decision to end his career with such a meaningful move, and being that this is his last film, it seems only fitting that Reynolds Woodcock should be the closest thing to a self-portrait that Day-Lewis has ever had.
Day-Lewis is well noted for his intense dedication to method acting and refusal to break character during production, an obsessive work routine that may be quite alienating to some who witness it, but in the end yields spectacular results. Perhaps it's no accident that Woodcock is of a similar mindset, a very particular dressmaker of needlepoint specific work requirements, renowned for his artistry, but also rocked when distracted from bringing it to life. Not only that, but much like his performer who is so secretive about his personal life, Woodcock is also a man of secrets kept close to the chest. Such is a man whose stance and work ethic would be easily alienating to those unprepared for it, the mark of a genius, a towering force that thoroughly intimidates one away from their presence.
But it's also a work ethic that does have its funnier qualities, the dedication to the method so extreme, it can open itself to humorous quirks. Obsessions such as Reynolds always wanting to have the last word in an argument, slinking away from the breakfast table after a break in thought, and so devoted to presentation, he dons a vest and jacket over pajamas to dinner, details that give Phantom Thread a very amusing edge. But what's important is that, while Day-Lewis may be playing a man similar to himself, that doesn't mean he's merely playing himself. Even without makeup, odd hairstyles or accents, he still shows a dedicated transformation that crawls deep into the skin of a man with a twisted, brilliant psyche, gracing it with an effervescent charm and appeal, which only goes to further cement Day-Lewis as one of the great acting giants.
Reynolds thrives by living in distance, fearful of attachments and the distractions that come with it. That's something that comes to be when he has his fateful first meeting with Alma, played by Vicky Krieps, who becomes his newest obsession upon her discovery. This is a very... complicated relationship to say the least, of two very conflicting personalities. Reynolds is one to keep his working relationships strictly professional, doting upon Alma like an easel for his fabric, but intentionally keeping himself disinterested in personal details and attachments, such a thing reasonably upsetting the new star model, and her refusal to be seen as just another of his little pet projects.
In that case, Phantom Thread is a very atypical take on the male gaze. It could have been very easy for Anderson to leave it at topics of superficiality, in which men view women as puppets to scrutinize, a means to sell their wares by preying upon the lustful eye of the buyer, glamorized to impossibly high standards. That is something fleetingly addressed, but Anderson feels far more interested in more complex angles. The male gaze can be based on more than sexuality. The male gaze can be fickle, neglectful, jealous, distracted, angry, cold, obsessive of something for one minute, and then pushing it to the background the next. It all creates the portrait of a man who may be able to create lavish dresses and suits that are to die for, but in a supposed effort to preserve his creativity, an effort which may inadvertently be toxic (another Day-Lewis tie, whose work ethic has sometimes proved harmful to his health), doesn't seem to understand the people he designs his products for.
But while intentional distance can go so far in creativity, passion and adversity can also prove a great motivator. We typically associate artistry as coming from beautiful places, but often forget that artistry can just as easily come from places much more sinister and dark in nature. That's certainly the case that can be made in the relationship between Reynolds and Alma, the latter who can take that male gaze and twist it to her bidding, establishing herself with just as much power over her architect as he does with her. It's a dynamic superbly accentuated by Krieps, one of the few stars to ever claim to duke it out with Day-Lewis, and come out the victor. Without giving much away, what's built is a very bewildering match made in the most warped of Heavens, and these are two characters who unequivocally deserve each other.
Anderson's direction is not to be undersold either, lending the same obsession to technical detail as his gifted lead character, from the tiniest of visual sparks to the grandest Jonny Greenwood melody. There's so much to offer within Phantom Thread, and with time and second glimpses, those hidden secrets may become clearer yet. If this is to be Mr. Day-Lewis' final bow, then he's surely gone out on a high note.
****1/2 / *****
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