Vox's guide to the year’s most essential films, from the Toronto International Film Festival to the Academy Awards.

Each year, the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences nominates between five and 10 movies to compete for the Oscars’ Best Picture trophy — its most prestigious award, and the one given out at the very end of the night. What “best picture” really means is a little fuzzy, but the most accurate way of characterizing it might be that it indicates how Hollywood wants to remember the past year in film.

The Best Picture winner, in other words, is the movie that represents the film industry in America, what it’s capable of, and how it sees itself at a specific point in time.

So when we look at the nominee slate for any given year, we’re essentially looking at a list of possibilities for the way Hollywood will ultimately characterize the previous 12 months in film. And one thing that’s definitely true about the nine Best Picture nominees from 2017 is that they exhibit a lot of variety.

There are genre films and art films, horror films and history films, romances and tragicomedies. And thinking about what the Academy voters — as well as audiences and critics — found enticing about them helps us better understand both Hollywood and what we were looking for at the movies more broadly this year.

In the runup to the Oscars, Vox’s culture staff decided to take a look at each of the nine Best Picture nominees in turn. What made this film appealing to Academy voters? What makes it emblematic of the year? And should it win?

In this installment, we talk about Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name, a rich, sensual, gorgeous gay romance with starmaking turns for Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer. Compared to many of the other films in this year’s Best Picture race, its chances of winning are low; we discuss why, and what it means that it was nominated at all.

Alissa Wilkinson: On paper, Call Me by Your Name isn’t perhaps the most obvious Best Picture choice. It’s based on a novel, set in Italy in the 1980s, told in several languages, and helmed by an Italian director, not to mention that it’s a gay romance — the kind of movie that in years past might have been too niche for the Academy. Yet it went over well with critics and was beloved by audiences (even if it didn’t pull in the same box office numbers as some of its fellow Best Picture nominees).

By your estimation, what is it about the film that appealed to Academy voters? Why have people responded so strongly to it? What landed it on the list of Best Picture nominees?

Caroline Framke: After hearing so much early buzz about how good Call Me by Your Name was (and being an inexplicably passionate Armie Hammer fan), I really thought there was no way this movie could meet my expectations. But lo, it did. Call Me by Your Name has such a languid pull, a quiet heat that pulls you into Elio and Oliver’s gorgeous summer — and into the looming pain of losing it that finally crashes in the movie’s astonishing final take of Elio mourning what he’s lost.

Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name.

What I’m trying to say is, Call Me by Your Name is straight-up lovely. I’m not surprised people responded to it, especially given how hard and earnestly Chalamet and Hammer have been selling it since before its premiere more than a year ago at Sundance. And even though Sony arguably dropped the ball on Call Me by Your Name’s Oscar campaign — I genuinely don’t think it saw Three Billboards’ surge coming — this movie features the kind of beautifully rendered performances that tend to grab the Academy’s attention.

But we also can’t discount the fact that even though Call Me by Your Name tells a very specifically queer love story, the movie adaptation was very carefully packaged to be more supposedly appealing to a “general” audience. While promoting the film, Chalamet and Hammer (who are both straight) spoke more respectfully but cautiously about their characters’ queerness than anything else, and even director Luca Guadagnino (who is gay) spoke about wanting to tell a “universal” story. At my screening, a Q&A with all three saw Rolling Stone critic Peter Travers gush that Call Me by Your Name wasn’t just a “gay love story” but a universal “coming-of-age story.”

That, to me, is both completely wrong and a real shame. This movie tells a queer love story that’s only made stronger by the specific details that wouldn’t exist in a straight one. It’s about two men falling for each other in the ‘80s — a time when gay men were near demonized by the AIDS crisis — and having a beautiful summer getting to know each other and themselves. It arguably peaks with that beautiful speech from Elio’s dad (the one and only Michael Stuhlbarg) about not wasting this connection and not ending their lives with questions of “What if?” and regrets.

With all that said, I unfortunately do think a more generalized framing helps movies with queer romances break out of their so-called “niche” mold to become something like an Oscar frontrunner. Somehow, making it out to be a “coming-of-age” tale makes it more palatable to people who imagine they couldn’t otherwise relate.

I haven’t read André Aciman’s source novel — or listened to Hammer’s audiobook version of it, because I definitely wouldn’t survive it — but my understanding is that it’s a whole lot more explicit than the movie. So I’m curious to hear more about that from you, Alex, since I know you read it and have some Opinions on the movie’s sex scene (or lack thereof) ...

Alex Abad-Santos: The most striking difference between the book and the movie is the difference in how sex was handled. Aciman’s book was very explicit and unapologetic about the physical aspect of Elio and Oliver’s relationship; the peach scene isn’t the most explicit one in the book. Meanwhile, the big sex scene in the movie where Elio and Oliver finally have sex is obfuscated by Guadagnino’s methodical pan away from the pair to … a view of a tree?

It would be hilarious if it weren’t so aggravating.

Timothée Chalamee and Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name.

Sony Pictures Classics

In no way do I think that fake gay sex on screen is the only way to signal that yes, in fact, we are watching a movie about two gay men. Like, I don’t need to see Dumbledore and Grindelwald renovating each other’s basements for me to be convinced they are lovers. But it’s baffling to me that anyone could adapt a novel whose greatest strength is that it shows the thrill, madness, eroticism, and regret of sex, and decide to minimize those feelings and emotions.

And to be clear, it’s also a little strange we see so much of Marzia, the girl whom Elio is seeing that summer, in a gay love story.

I do wonder how much of that is a result of trying to play the Academy’s game. The history of the Oscars has shown us that the few LGBTQ stories the Academy has rewarded have been ones with a tragic edge. Voters are willing to recognize a powerful, tragic LGBTQ story but are a little less likely to honor films where LGBTQ life involves happy endings and hot sex.

Two recent examples: 2015’s Carol, which has a lot in common with Call Me by Your Name, was criminally ignored by the 2016 Oscars. And 2016’s Moonlight, whose Best Picture win in 2017 was considered a big step forward for LGBTQ stories, didn’t have a sex scene.

Could Call Me by Your Name land somewhere in the middle, Alissa? Do you think it will be helped or hurt by the Academy’s voting tendencies, or is it all a myth?

Alissa: Well, I think we’d all be shocked if Call Me by Your Name ultimately takes home the Best Picture prize. Moonlight did so well with voters, I think, in large part because it was seen as being not just an LGBTQ story but a movie about young black men in America. It had that “tragic” — or maybe “important” — element that attracts Academy voters.

Of course, if you’re looking closely, that element is also present in Call Me by Your Name. Its 1983 setting was a fraught time for gay men in America, as Caroline said, but that aspect is mostly restricted to the edges of the story. You have to know it’s there to put the pieces together. It isn’t the story, in the way that it was for a movie like the sadly overlooked BPM (Beats Per Minute).

I think that for a lot of people, what sticks in their minds about Call Me by Your Name is the sensuousness with which it is shot and its almost fantasy-like setting in a ramshackle villa in Italy — essentially, the beauty and emotion of the film. The Academy is interested in filmmaking, and this is a gorgeously made film.

But the Best Picture prize, for a while now, has most often gone to movies that are “important” in some way — movies like Spotlight and The Hurt Locker and 12 Years a Slave. That’s not always the rule, but it seems like there’s some drive among Oscar voters to give the top prize to a movie that says something “about society today.” (That desire may have factored into the conflict last year between La La Land and Moonlight.)

Do we think Call Me by Your Name can clear that hurdle? And, maybe more importantly, even if the Academy doesn’t think so, does the movie have something to say? I think you both hint at it above, but let’s spool it out: In what ways does Call Me by Your Name feel like an important film in 2017?

Caroline: Oh, in no way do I think Call Me by Your Name is going to win. It’s just too low-key and — after Moonlight’s surprising, awesome win — too gay to make a serious play, especially after losing so much momentum on the awards season circuit. Neither Hammer nor Stuhlbarg earned an Oscar nod for their performance, and as much as I would love for Chalamet to repeat the wins he earned from critics circles, it seems unlikely now that Gary Oldman has picked up more major pre-Oscars wins, including the Golden Globe, BAFTA, and SAG awards for this performance. If Call Me by Your Name wins anything, it’ll be Adapted Screenplay, and that will likely be that.

But Call Me by Your Name being recognized as one of the nine best films of the year absolutely makes sense to me, especially given how strong 2017 was for queer films in general — and how few of them received mainstream recognition.

I have so many of these movies to catch up on, but I recently got to watch Princess Cyd, and it immediately brought to mind the one word I keep using to describe Call Me by Your Name. It’s lovely, depicting a single Chicago summer and the exploratory romance between two giddy girls. It’s a movie all its own, yet I couldn’t help but think of Call Me by Your Name as I was watching it, and how cool it was that two beautiful queer movies about life-changing summer romances came out in the same year.

So many movies starring LGBTQ characters end in heartbreak; it feels great to have more movie options that don’t come with any stakes beyond “sometimes you fall in love, and sometimes it hurts.” That, to me, is what makes Call Me by Your Name so special, and I’m glad that enough Academy voters seemed to agree.

Related The case for and against every Oscars Best Picture nominee

Alex: What makes Call Me by Your Name so special to me is primarily how it fully understands and embraces the idea that our time on this planet is finite and that love is often tragically temporary.

Humans, being the clumsy creatures we are, spend so much time fumbling around and second-guessing everything that we often sabotage ourselves when it comes to finding love and enjoying it. And when we are lucky enough to find it, we should do everything we can to be grateful, even if it’s fleeting.

The most powerful part of Call Me by Your Name, to me, was Elio calling his mom to drive him home. In Chalamet’s hands, you can see Elio begin to process all that pain — the absence of the joy that Oliver brought to his life.

As Caroline mentioned earlier, so many LGBTQ love stories are tinged with pain and tragedy — but there’s no punishment or villain in Call Me by Your Name other than time.

The other thing I loved about the movie is the way it portrays Elio’s parents. The Perlmans’ loving relationship with their son — as seen in the way Mr. and Mrs. Perlman communicate with one another, how they show affection to Elio, and the decisions they make in teaching him lessons about growing up — offers a depiction of parenthood that we so rarely see in LGBTQ movies. The Perlmans’ acceptance of their son’s sexuality and the man he loves is what allows this movie to double as a coming-of-age story versus a coming-out story. It also allows the film to explore spaces and moments that the source novel can’t.

Michael Stuhlbarg, Timothée Chalamet, and Armie Hammer in Call Me by Your Name.

Sony Pictures Classics

Alissa: So, given everything we’ve said so far about Call Me by Your Name, let’s all answer this question: In five or 10 years, what idea, image, or scene will stick with you? What will you think of when someone mentions the movie?

Alex: The way Chalamet’s voice cracks when Elio calls his mom and asks to be driven home — he’s been independent and terminally precocious the entire movie, and it’s in that instant that you understand how unbearable the heartbreak is for him.

Caroline: The way Elio steals so many longing glances at Oliver and his impossibly lithe, beautiful body, whether he’s flexing his hands or flipping into a pool or dancing like an incredible dork. Call Me by Your Name is so good at portraying the physicality of longing and lust, in large part thanks to the way Guadagnino captures Hammer’s casual handsomeness and Chalamet’s hungry stares.

Alissa: There’s Armie Hammer dancing in the town square, of course, but the scene that sticks with me — one of the great scenes in contemporary cinema, in my opinion — is when Elio, Oliver, and Elio’s father go to see the sculptures brought up from the clear water.

The mirroring between the beautiful statues and the beautiful people, their joy, and the crystalline sea: It’s just glorious. And it captures the theme of the entire movie, about how we find moments of perfect beauty in one another, in a single scene.

Check out what our critics roundtable had to say about all nine Best Picture nominees:

Call Me By Your Name | Darkest Hour | Dunkirk | Get Out | Lady Bird | Phantom Thread | The Post | The Shape of Water | Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri