intimacy – medhum.org

Call Me by Your Name

Dustin Brinker — Mon, 27 Apr 2026 14:27:42 +0000

The story begins “somewhere in Northern Italy” in 1983 chez Perlman, a multicultural and well-educated family. Every summer, the family (Michael Stuhlbarg & Amira Casar) host a classical-arts graduate student for six weeks at their holiday home. Elio Perlman (Timothée Chalamet), the family’s 17-year-old precocious son, is expected to act as host and guide to the selected student, this year a 24-year-old American named Oliver (Armie Hammer). From the beginning, the two have a love-hate relationship; an unspoken emotional tension exists between them. Uncertain of how to handle this tension, Elio begins exploring his sexuality with his female friend, Marzia (Esther Garrel). He eventually, albeit obliquely, admits his feelings for Oliver, and the two begin a brief love affair during which Oliver suggests, in bed, that they call each other by the other’s name. Noticing the closeness of the young men, the Perlman parents suggest that Elio accompany Oliver as he spends a few days in Bergamo prior to leaving for the United States. The sojourn concludes with a bitter goodbye: Oliver departs by train, leaving Elio on the railway platform. Unable to complete his journey home alone, Elio makes a tearful call home for his mother to come pick him up. Back in town, Marzia, seeing a grief-stricken Elio, approaches and forgives him, insinuating that she knows about his recent tryst and that she will always be his loving friend. Months later, the Perlmans return to the town for Hanukkah. While his parents are in the process of picking next summer’s student, Elio gets a bittersweet surprise: Oliver is calling to inform the family that he is engaged to a woman. The film concludes with Elio staring into the dining-room fireplace, the light flickering in his red, tear-sodden eyes.

Based on the novel of the same name by André Aciman, this multilingual film took the world by storm, using three languages (French, Italian, and English) in the first five minutes. The resulting language barriers add to feelings of yearning established by the musical score, whose key elements originate from Sufjan Stevens (Futile Devices; Mystery of Love; Visions of Gideon). Music, language, and literature carry the work’s primary themes, namely those of precocity and sexuality. Elio embodies all three—his main hobbies include transcribing music, playing the piano, and reading. These themes are further captured by the symbol of the apricot, its relationship to precocity and sexuality explicitly discussed in the film. Furthermore, the denouement of the film, arrives through a figuratively rich and overtly sensual scene involving Elio and the summer stand-in of the apricot, the peach, (1:34:30-1:40:24), beautifully capturing the relationship between Elio’s intellectual maturity and emotional naïveté.

Controversy surrounds Call Me by Your Name, primarily regarding consent and age statutes. Although Elio is over the 1983 age of consent in Italy and most United States jurisdictions, his relationship with Oliver evokes discomfort. This speaks to the historical Western perception of gay relationships as predatory. Nonetheless, their relationship warrants some skepticism, particularly regarding age-based power dynamics. The Perlmans support and watch over their son as the relationship progresses, frequently checking in and pointing him to literary passages as points of reference. In this way, the film navigates a complicated and loaded social topic, particularly in the queer community.

Further depth is added by considering the historical context of the early 1980s. By 1983, the AIDS epidemic had globally taken hold, the virus only identified in France the May prior to the events of the film. “Gay cancer” was a widely used term for a rare and defining symptom of AIDS, singling out the Western community hardest hit at that time. The merciless, viral specter of death overshadowed the gay liberation movement of the previous decade. HIV is never mentioned in the film, but its presence must be known by Oliver, adding to his own hesitations and fears about his and Elio’s sexualities. 1983 was also rife with relevant political fallout: Gerry Studds––the first openly gay member of Congress––became embroiled in a scandal involving a relationship with a 17-year-old, and Bettino Craxi was elected as Italian Prime Minister, eventually leading to the collapse of the modern Italian political machine. Craxi plays a central role in the peripheral events of the film, his influence appearing on television and in conversations with dinner guests.

Call Me by Your Name is an evocative masterpiece, one of the few movies that I can watch repeatedly (cf. Heated Rivalry). Despite my inherent preference for novels, this film, far and away, manifests a beauty missing from its literary inspiration. The actors perform splendidly, the music deepens the emotional journey, and the cinematography transports the audience perfectly to the setting. Every time I watch it, I discover greater depth and fall in love with it more, even if I can never look at a peach the same way.

Call Me by Your Name
Director: Luca Guadagnino
Screenplay: James Ivory
Awards: Best Adapted Screenplay (Critics’ Choice Awards); Best Male Lead [Chalamet] & Best Cinematography (Independent Spirit Awards); Outstanding Film-Wide Release (GLAAD Media Awards); Best Editing (Nastro d’Argento Awards & Golden Ciak Awards); Breakout Actor [Chalamet] (Gotham Independent Film Awards & Hollywood Film Awards)
Year 2017
Studio Sony Pictures Classics
Running Time (in minutes) 132
Based on Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman

Web image from Sony Pictures.

When Artificial Intelligence Talks but Can’t Touch: Marjorie Prime

Rudy Malcom — Sat, 20 Dec 2025 23:04:09 +0000

Amid rising reports linking ChatGPT to delusions and suicides, the Broadway debut of Marjorie Prime, which portrays a conversation-driven form of artificial intelligence (AI), feels rather timely.

Directed by Anne Kauffman, the play features “Primes,” or holographic simulations of the dead intended for therapeutic use by the living. June Squibb—who, at 96, is making history as the oldest performer to open a Broadway show—astonishes as Marjorie, an impish 85-year-old with dementia using a much younger version of her husband Walter (an uncanny yet tender Christopher Lowell) to regain and retain her memory. Marjorie’s daughter Tess (the incredible Cynthia Nixon) is skeptical and fearful of the technology, whereas Tess’s husband Jon, played by a standout Danny Burstein, is a fan—until an on-the-nose change of heart in the penultimate scene.

Marjorie Prime’s central flaw is that it favors concepts over dramatic depth. The characters are well-acted but underdeveloped, and almost all they do is talk; the biggest event may be Marjorie urinating herself. Yet, despite its slow pace and formulaic structure, Marjorie Prime is intelligent and poignant.

Marjorie’s memories are embellished and sanitized for her comfort and convenience. The fallibility of memory is hardly a novel concept, but the Primes enable this reconstructive process and also become a stand-in for genuine connection in the wake of grief, preventing the family from confronting painful realities and repairing their relationships.

By the time the truth fully surfaces in the unsettling final scene, which makes adroit use of a stage turntable (props to scenic designer Lee Jellinek), there are no humans left to heal. When storytelling is delegated to AI, truth becomes archival rather than relational; however, truth must be witnessed between living people in order to be ethically and therapeutically meaningful.

Playwright Jordan Harrison’s Primes, like flesh-and-blood clinicians, absorb and co-construct patients’ accounts of self, yet they are disembodied, unfeeling, and ultimately unable to act with compassion, turning dynamic stories into datasets.

Marjorie Prime, through Feb. 15 at the Helen Hayes Theater in New York; 2st.com/shows/marjorie-prime.

“Much of healthcare happens in interpersonal moments,” write Maura Spiegel and Danielle Spencer in the first chapter of The Principles and Practice of Narrative Medicine—and machines are good at many things, but participating in a truly interpersonal moment is likely not one of them. Several studies have suggested that models perform worse for underrepresented groups because they are trained on datasets that lack racial, cultural, and linguistic diversity. Additionally, AI may miss subtle emotional cues and fail to interpret tone, context, and metaphors, which, one bioethicist [1] predicts, could “fundamentally alter” how trust is practiced in healthcare. Others [2] have underscored that “AI should be viewed not as a replacement for the physician, but as a partner in delivering empathetic, patient-centered care.”

However, AI is not wholly bad. For example, a recent systematic review [3] found that applying natural language processing (NLP) to unstructured text in electronic health records (EHRs) can detect signs of cognitive impairment. Some [4] have found solace in text-based simulations with lost loved ones. And perhaps technology should be viewed as a vehicle for strengthening partnerships between clinicians and patients. Designed by Gabriela Gomes, the video game Healing Spaces aims to help those with neurodegenerative diseases connect with their caregivers. It is a multisensory experience: an app with beach and forest scenes, and a box with aromatherapy that smells like pine trees. Healing Spaces may evoke memories or even create new ones between caregiver and patient, unlike the Primes’ hollow curation.

Healing Spaces also includes sunscreen-scented lotion that caregivers can use to massage the hands of those in their care. Needless to say, holograms and lotion don’t pair well. “You can’t touch a hologram. So there’s something about them looking so much like your loved ones, but not being able to quite achieve intimacy with them,” said Harrison during Marjorie Prime’s Off-Broadway run about a decade ago. “The loneliness can never be quite extinguished, never satisfied, because they’re just pixels.”

[1] Kerasidou, Angeliki. “Artificial Intelligence and the Ongoing Need for Empathy,  Compassion and Trust in Healthcare.” Bulletin of the World Health Organization, vol. 98, no. 4, 2020, pp. 245-250. pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7133472/.

[2] Ghenimi, Nadirah, et al. “Integrating AI with Narrative-Based Medicine: Enhancing Patient-Centered Care in Primary Practice.” Perspectives in Primary Care, 5 Dec. 2024, info.primarycare.hms.harvard.edu/perspectives/articles/integrating-ai-with-narrative-based-medicine. 

[3] Shankar, Ravi et al. “Natural Language Processing of Electronic Health Records for Early Detection of Cognitive Decline: A Systematic Review.”npj Digital Medicine, vol. 8, no. 1, 2025, p. 133. pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/40025194/.

[4] Fagone, Jason. “The Jessica Simulation: Love and Loss in the Age of A.I.” The San Francisco Chronicle, 23 July 2021, sfchronicle.com/projects/2021/jessica-simulation-artificial-intelligence/.

Web image from 2nd Street Theater.

A Tired Woman with Two Children by Jean-Baptiste Greuze

Felice Aull — Tue, 07 Oct 2025 13:34:54 +0000

Unlike other French painters of his era (late 18^th century), Greuze often painted domestic scenes and his depictions of people are highly empathetic. This ink and chalk work focuses on a woman and two young children. The room they are in is sparsely furnished and almost dungeon-like. The woman seems exhausted, the left side of her head resting on her bent left arm, eyes appearing closed. Nearby in a corner, the children are tangled up with each other–playing or fighting. They pay the woman no heed–they are occupied with each other–yet, because they are close by, they are clearly her responsibility. Although it is not clear that the woman is the children’s mother, this work could be compared with Greuze’s study of “The Well-Beloved Mother”.

The well-beloved mother, the Art Gallery of New South Wales

In that drawing a mother leans back in her chair, surrounded by clamoring children who snuggle, kiss, pull at her. Clothing is scattered about – on the floor, on a basket. Several dogs lean toward the figures, adding to the domesticity of the scene.

Web image from National Gallery of Art.