On Oliver & Elio & Bottoms & Tops (Oh My)

I've been considering writing a few more thoughts about Call Me By Your Name that've been plunking around in my head since the last big piece I wrote over at The Film Experience, and two factors have conspired over the past few days to make it happen (it is happening right now, you see). First off there was that question at the Q&A this past weekend with Timothée Chalamet that I posted video of, the terrible one about whether he and Armie had discussed the sexual roles Elio and Oliver would take in the bedroom - which was the "top" and which was the "bottom." Here's that video:

And the second factor that's got me yapping more is this lovely review of the film by Tomas Trussow at Film inquiry; specifically this section from it, which brings up the pan out the window which I went into a detailed defense of myself in my last piece:

"When they finally consummate their relationship, Guadagnino pans to the bedroom window—but not out of prudishness. It is rather a normalizing gesture, since for time immemorial, a pan away from the lovemaking couple has been a traditional feature in cinematic romances. It is to give them their privacy, as well as to give our imaginations a stake in the process.
Here, Guadagnino seems to say, the love of two men now belongs in that tradition. Desire is not always dependent on whatever is made explicit, and here, it is enough to imagine the intensity of love that no actor—not even actors as extraordinary as Chalamet and Hammer—can reproduce as convincingly as two people so madly in love as Elio and Oliver are."

You can maybe kind of see where I'm going to go with this at this point, but I've got to give credit to my boyfriend, who made this case to me immediately after reading my piece last week, well before either of these factors came around to goose me into action today - that part of the reason for the privacy that Guadagnino extends to Oliver and Elio by panning out the window is due to the politics of gay sex and the idea of power, submission and dominance. The act of gay sex always gets complicated by who is the "top" and who is the "bottom" and what that says about who is in control at that moment, yadda yadda - it's an exhausting and stupid conversation quite frankly, and I don't blame Luca for wanting to side-step it entirely since it would only at that point in the film serve as a distraction.

Trussow's piece lays out the structure of the film nicely - how its split into thirds, with Elio coming to realize his attraction to Oliver in the first third, with Elio pursuing Oliver in the second, and with their post-consummation bliss through its end in the final act. The turning point from the second to the third act is when Elio & Oliver have sex and the camera pans out the window, and it seems to be foundational to the structure of the film that the two of them be on equal footing in our minds at that moment. The audience shouldn't be thinking about one dominating the other - that moment is about them finally being on the same page, eye to eye.

The book, of course, has time for a back and forth - the two characters trade roles in bed as Aciman lengthily details their lovemaking over the span of their final couple of weeks together. That's the benefit of writing a book, which is not the same as writing a basic three act film. And it seems to me Guadagnino made the right choice to entirely circumvent the power conversation at that moment, and focus instead on finally immediately realizing Elio and Oliver as equals, partners, joined side by side like those twin beds I wrote about in my other piece. Even if you think the conversations around passive versus active roles in gay sex are silly and unnecessary like I do there's no denying that they interject themselves into the conversation whether you want them to or not. And that's not the conversation this film needs to have to work.

Once Elio and Oliver do consummate their relationship the bottom (so to speak, hardy har) really falls out of the film time-wise and its previous languid pace is tossed out the window - you really get the sense in its last act of time escaping too quickly, of the air running out of the room. When Marzia shows up she says three days have passed since she last saw Elio and every time I watch the movie that statement surprises me - where did all that time go? And then before you know it they're on the bus to Bergamo and then they're saying goodbye. I love the Rome section of the book, where the boys meet all the hip literati and have a magical night, but cutting that lengthy section, which would've brought the film to a standstill, was imperative for the film to get across this sensation of Oliver & Elio's time together ending before its even properly begun. That's the tragedy of First Love, gone before we even realize what we had and what it was doing to us, that was Guadagnino's aim and ultimately his bullseye.
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