www.annemoore.net

 

 

 

 

 

Films: I am Love (lo sono l’amore)

My friend Jennifer and I beat the heat the other day and ducked in to a movie theater for a matinee. We’d both read tantalizing reviews of “I am Love” and couldn’t wait to see it.

We weren’t disappointed. Movies like this don’t get made any more: beautifully filmed, slowly told, it was like watching an exquisite book unfold. (From its inception, the film was ten years in the making. Produced by Tilda Swinton, its star. Luca Guadagnino directed.)

Set in present-day Milan, the story concerns the Recchi family, wealthy textile manufacturers. It opens with a birthday celebration for the patriarch, Edoardo, a bully who diminishes his son, Tancredi, by ceding the company to him and grandson Edo. It’s a wonderful set up, but, like much of the action in this film, receives little follow -through. Indeed, the heart of this story opens up gradually, with the growing desire between Emma (Tancredi’s wife, played by Tilda Swinton) and Antonio, a brilliant chef befriended by Edo. Their torrid affair begins with food. Indeed, food is the story’s catalyst: food seduces, food betrays.

Too many themes — passion, duty, guilt, family, class, sexual orientation, displacement, inclusion, globalization — are served up, then left unresolved. We discussed our quibbles later; during the movie we were completely absorbed by its leisurely pace, the on and off use of color, the architecture and homes in Milan, the glories of the nearby mountains, the stirring score. Beautiful actors and actresses — especially Tilda Swinton, who is luminous, and ferocious — kept us glued, too.

The climax shocks; neither of us saw it coming. I looked around at the other patrons and saw that they were stunned, too. No one moved to leave. (This would be a terrific outing for a book club. So much to discuss!)

See this film. See it on the big screen. (Warning: It’s two hours, and feels longer.) Don’t leave when the credits roll. There’s one last shot of the lovers that suggests what they’ve become.

Also in the blog

I like to write, and read, a life story. Childhood, education, influences, love affairs, disappointments, a troubled marriage, triumphs and recognition: Gail Levin’s biography of painter Lee Krasner is a masterfully told story of a great American life. Krasner (1908-1984) was born to Russian immigrants in then-rural Brooklyn. Her scholarly father sold fish from a

(...)

Can a book beat you up? I’ll carry the psychic bruises from John Updike’s “Rabbit, Redux” for a long, long time. I’m not complaining! I’d rather go for a wild ride than slog through some of the fiction I waded into this summer. I brought a stack to my favorite reading spot, a dock beside

(...)

My eldest son and I have an ongoing discussion about “The Shelf,” an imaginary but distinctive resting place for the best war literature. He referred to it after I finished Karl Marlantes “Mattherhorn,” a 640 page slog — in the best sense of the word — through the Vietnam War. (We agree to disagree on

(...)