Call Me by My Italian Name
From ‘Call Me By Your Name’ (2017) to nuanced identities and complex relationships with personal history.
It starts with one thing… I don’t know why…
No, I mean, this piece starts with a question…can Call Me by Your Name be considered an Italian movie? Can I be called by my Italian name? See, Jess the Avocado, could easily be Jess L’ Avocado. I know, shocking difference.
But can a movie with no Italian main actors be considered Italian cinema?
Maybe yes, maybe no.
Or as a song goes:
Italia si, Italia no. La terra dei cachi.
I’m Australian, but I’m also Italian and in fact, I grew up in the “Persimmons’ Land” (Italia si, Italia no…).
The first thoughts, at least the beautiful ones, that come to mind when I try and remember the 90s in Italy are: the summer light over the old stones of houses, monuments, and countryside stone-walls; the mix of 90s and 80s euro music blasting on car radios; the sea, always the sea; people spraying way too much perfume (and I still love it); bity winter, buses, and wild veggies; my mother brushing my long and curly hair on summer nights with the window-door open and the breeze coming in from both the beach — around 3 km…
