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The sequel to Call Me By Your Name was not, alas, just 250 more pages of Elio smiling shyly and Oliver sliding into his bed. But if you’re desperately in the mood (read: horny) for another love story of that caliber, Besson’s considerably darker portrait will offer you plenty of action between the sheets, along with a Rachel Cusk-ian dose of autofiction. We never quite learn whether this tale of a secret schoolboy romance is true. Besson toys with us, casting a writer as his unnamed protagonist, who may or may not also be Besson, and twisting us up in all kinds of knots — literary, existential, and libidinal.