Armie Hammer is more than an object of desire in Call Me by Your Name

In Call Me by Your Name, Armie Hammer’s performance as Oliver weaponizes his star persona, allowing us to misread his character in the same way that Elio does. This is the sixth piece in our Special Issue on Call Me by Your Name. Read the rest of the issue here.

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Armie Hammer has spent his entire career playing the object of our desire. Leave it to the ‘proper’ actors to go deep; Hammer shall play the pretty face, with his blue-eyed, golden-haired, six-foot-five, all-American good looks. His star appeal is almost too obvious, as if he’d been hand-crafted by the Hollywood machine to embody everything it represents: dashing looks, easy charm, and casual comfort in his own skin.

From the beginning of his career, studios have leapt at the chance to cast him as all the classic archetypes: western hero, Russian spy, literally Prince Charming. Even his critically-acclaimed breakout performance — as the arrogant, preppy, Harvard-educated Winklevoss twins in The Social Network — perpetuated the idea of Hammer as an extrovert with extraordinary self-assurance. Role after role after role has taught us unequivocally who Armie Hammer is supposed to be: a matinée idol, impossibly polished, masculine to a fault.

Luca Guadagnino is the first director to not only recognise that perception, but weaponize it. In Call Me by Your Name, 17-year-old Elio Perlman (Timothée Chalamet) is taken aback to discover that, underneath a varnished surface, Hammer’s Oliver is a man with fear, pain, and desires of his own. In casting Hammer, Guadagnino allows us to go on the same complex journey as Elio: we are entranced and infatuated by Hammer’s image, and therefore just as disarmed as Elio is to discover the complex man (and gifted actor) hiding underneath his intimidating, statuesque beauty. As unfathomable as it might seem given his leading-man looks, Hammer has the talent, the bravery, and the will to strip away every trace of that persona and expose his soul on screen.

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[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Guadagnino is the first director to not only recognise our impossibly polished perception of Hammer, but weaponize it.'” quote=”‘Guadagnino is the first director to not only recognise our impossibly polished perception of Hammer, but weaponize it.'”]

At the start of Call Me by Your Name, Oliver seems like a physical manifestation of everything Elio wants and aspires to be. Elio desires Oliver in much the same way that we have been expected to desire Hammer in his previous films; in the words of Elio’s mother (Amira Casar), Oliver is “la muvi star”, a label Hammer carries with ease. Oliver’s near arrogant self-assurance, and the confidence with which he inhabits his body, are irresistible to the gangly and uncertain Elio. Guadagnino repeatedly shoots Hammer from below, gazing up at his perfection just as Elio does, such as when he downs a glass of apricot juice in one go; Elio takes small sips. Oliver drinks life in with relish and without hesitation.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Hammer has the talent, the bravery, and the will to strip away every trace of persona and expose his soul on screen.'” quote=”‘Hammer has the talent, the bravery, and the will to strip away every trace of persona and expose his soul on screen.'”]

His exaggerated cool attitude comes close to being a caricature of the ‘object of desire.’ Guadagnino’s camera either deifies Oliver from below, or objectifies him, adopting Elio’s gaze when he observes Oliver from afar and above. When Elio watches Oliver from his balcony, Oliver seems present only as an object to be gazed at and lusted after by his desirer. Hammer’s movements are quick and decisive: he jumps off his bike before it’s even stopped moving and strides confidently forward while removing his shirt. He teases the camera, and the lens glorifies him in return. Guadagnino and his star indulge our impulse to fawn over Hammer’s good looks, tricking us into objectifying his character. After watching Oliver from the balcony, Elio lies back on his bed and begins to masturbate, Oliver still on his mind. He takes pleasure solely from Oliver’s appearance and projected confidence; his star persona.

In the earlier scenes of Call Me by Your Name, Oliver is guarded, and Guadagnino’s camera doesn’t question the ‘easy read’ of his attitude. Oliver is an enigma to Elio and to us: he hides his eyes behind sunglasses and is often too far from the camera for his expression to be discerned. Elio perceives Oliver’s seemingly indifferent attitude as rudeness, and interprets the impromptu backrub Oliver gives him as casual and too-forward. Elio is the more active character in the frame in this scene: our attention is drawn to his shifting body (which is foregrounded), along with his face, which flits wildly between indignation, annoyance, panic, and swooning.

We’re so busy reading the open book that Chalamet is during the backrub that we only spare a cursory glance in Hammer’s direction, and thus take his ‘don’t care’ attitude as given. Our focus on Elio’s rather demonstrative reaction distracts us from the hesitant cracks in Oliver’s voice, or his nervous intake of breath as he realises he may have taken things a step too far. “I think he’s shy”, Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg) muses one night over dinner, but that explanation seems ridiculous to Elio at the time. As the film later reveals, Oliver’s outward confidence is indeed a veil to insecurity, but a veil so opaque that Elio cannot imagine what might be behind it. Neither can we; throughout his whole career, the characters Hammer has played have behaved just as Oliver does, so why would we question that behaviour this time around?

Yet from the beginning, Guadagnino punctuates the film with subtle hints at Oliver’s complex inner life by demonstrating his independence from Elio’s gaze — he exists as a fully-fledged human being, and not just an aspirational object. His work as Mr. Perlman’s research assistant, and his relationship with Chiara (Victoire Du Bois) either happen off-screen, or are seen from a distance. When Elio and Oliver are walking through Crema together, Elio is surprised to learn that Oliver has already befriended a group of men with whom he plays poker. It’s a reminder that Oliver has a life elsewhere that Elio doesn’t have access to.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Guadagnino and his star indulge our impulse to fawn over Hammer’s good looks, tricking us into objectifying him.'” quote=”‘Guadagnino and his star indulge our impulse to fawn over Hammer’s good looks, tricking us into objectifying him.'”]

We are even allowed a glimpse of Oliver when he is not being watched by anyone, let alone Elio, in a blink-and-you-miss-it scene early on that plants the seeds of the singular, complicated person we will soon know Oliver to be. On his first morning at the Perlman’s villa, we watch him descend the stairs from his bedroom, alone. He runs his hand over the fabric on the walls, searching the corridor for signs of life, and peers through gaps in the wall at Mrs. Perlman preparing breakfast with her maid, Mafalda. He is careful to remain out of sight from them — the audience alone is privy to this intimate moment, in which we follow Oliver’s gaze in the same way that we usually follow Elio’s. Oliver is not only an object of Elio’s curiosity, but also a man with curiosities of his own.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘At first, Elio takes pleasure solely from Oliver’s appearance and projected confidence; his star persona.'” quote=”‘At first, Elio takes pleasure solely from Oliver’s appearance and projected confidence; his star persona.'”]

Call Me by Your Name is the story of Elio’s coming of age, but as he and Oliver become more intimate and begin to understand each other, we are allowed access to Oliver’s perspective, too. We are no longer alongside Elio, looking for clues to what Oliver gets up to when Elio’s not around. Instead, we get a direct line to the man himself. Shortly before Elio confesses his feelings to Oliver, Guadagnino signals this shift in perspective: we see Oliver’s foot swaying back and forth in the water of the Perlmans’ swimming pool, echoing an earlier shot of Elio gazing down at Oliver’s half naked body submerged in the same water. But a cut away to Oliver’s face — unseen by a distant Elio — reveals that Oliver’s foot can only be seen by himself, and is not the subject of a longing gaze as his body was before. Watching it float idly is a private moment that we are privy to, because Guadagnino is asking us to see the world through Oliver’s eyes. Guadagnino challenges the perception he had previously indulged: that Oliver is an empty vessel onto which Elio can project his desires.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘It’s a reminder that Oliver has a life elsewhere that Elio doesn’t have access to.'” quote=”‘It’s a reminder that Oliver has a life elsewhere that Elio doesn’t have access to.'”]

As Guadagnino gives us more access to Oliver’s perspective, his bravado is revealed to be a performance put on for others. It disappears only when he’s not being watched, or later, when he allows himself to be vulnerable with Elio. Oliver’s suave masculinity is practiced: he walks with a strut and clips his sunglasses onto his shirt or shorts in one, swift motion; the comparatively inexperienced Elio fumbles when trying to execute the same move. Oliver tries to exert ownership over Chiara in an attempt to demonstrate that he fits in with the perceived conventions of heterosexual attraction. While Elio watches, Oliver kisses her with insistence and possessively wraps his arm around her — but as soon as he turns away, Hammer’s controlled, disingenuous smile drops and his face becomes blank; his romancing of her is all a performance. When he is with Elio (for whom he holds genuine affection) later in the film, his behaviour is far more cautious, considerate, and respectful.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Oliver is not only an object of Elio’s curiosity, but also a man with curiosities of his own.'” quote=”‘Oliver is not only an object of Elio’s curiosity, but also a man with curiosities of his own.'”]

We know practically nothing about Oliver’s life outside of this summer in 1983, ‘somewhere in northern Italy’, and Oliver wants it that way. Freed of the baggage of backstory, he becomes a blank slate onto which the people around him, and the viewer, are able to project an image of the American male ideal. Hammer’s casting further encourages us to see Oliver this way, as he has always maintained that ideal throughout his career. Most of his characters can be sorted into suave, heroic, or stoic archetypes — but if they had rich inner lives that revealed sensitivity, it wouldn’t be so easy to reduce them to one thing. We, and Elio, reduce Oliver to a “muvi star” at first precisely because he cultivates his own enigma.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Guadagnino challenges the perception he had previously indulged: that Oliver is an empty vessel onto which Elio can project his desires.'” quote=”‘Guadagnino challenges the perception he had previously indulged: that Oliver is an empty vessel onto which Elio can project his desires.'”]

Hammer is not simply coasting on our shallow perceptions of him, though; his Oliver is a thoughtfully conceived character with a backstory, even if the latter is scarcely revealed in any explicit way. Hammer’s body language and voice work grant us access to Oliver’s past: after Elio and Oliver have sex, Oliver casually cleans his own chest with his shirt and candidly reassures Elio over his concern that Mafalda will look for signs: “Don’t worry, she won’t find any”. His assurance hints at years of training to hide his same-sex relationships, and to appear more masculine than he might naturally want to be in order to appease his parents.

During his final phone conversation with Elio in the film, this subtext is made text. He’s envious of the Perlmans’ acceptance of Elio’s relationship with a man: “You’re so lucky. My father would have carted me off to a correctional facility.” Only now, when the summer is over, is Oliver willing to speak about his past. But that past was already evident in Hammer’s physicality. No matter how hard Oliver tries to separate himself from it, his history is ingrained in every fibre of his being.

Hammer’s performance is all about the peeling back of protective layers to expose the man inside. He shows the difference between Oliver’s constructed self and true self through the variation in his voice. In the beginning, he speaks with the same resonant, deep, and amiable tone that we know Armie Hammer for — in previous roles, and in interviews. But after Elio confesses his feelings and makes himself vulnerable, Hammer starts to break down his own public persona. Oliver’s voice gradually becomes gentler because he, too, is allowing himself to be vulnerable. The night they have sex, Oliver has finally gathered the courage to expose his true self completely. His whispered greeting of “I’m glad you came” comes out almost as a whimper. It’s a startling moment precisely because it comes from an actor who has built his image on macho sturdiness. Nobody ever imagined he could sound so fragile.

[clickToTweet tweet=”‘Hammer is an actor who has built his image on macho sturdiness. Nobody ever imagined he could sound so fragile.'” quote=”‘Hammer is an actor who has built his image on macho sturdiness. Nobody ever imagined he could sound so fragile.'”]

Guadagnino lingers on this surprising development, and is far more interested in observing Oliver during the ‘morning after’ than he is the suddenly despondent Elio: why show a face that’s closed off when you have one that’s willing to bare its soul? Hammer’s gestures and expressions aren’t calculated anymore; his adoring, open-hearted gaze at Elio is striking and emotionally disarming because, for the first time in the actor’s career, he has a complete lack of affectation. There’s no amiable wit, self-deprecation, or bravado to shield him.

Words are futile devices: On Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name

As Oliver lies in bed watching Elio silently get dressed, his defenceless smile wilts into concerned fear. He reads Elio’s indifference as rejection: now that Elio knows who Oliver is underneath the mystique, does he prefer the idea of Oliver that he had before? Hammer’s change of expression is heart-breaking because we know it is genuine — Oliver worked so hard to get to a point where he could completely strip away “la muvi star”. When Elio resurfaces later that day and admits, “I just wanted to be with you”, the smile that breaks across Hammer’s face is one of immense relief and joy that he no longer tries, or is able, to hide.

Over the course of Call Me by Your Name’s runtime, Guadagnino and Hammer exploit, question, and then shatter the façade that the actor has been confined to his entire career. It’s an act of extreme meta-textual daring; Hammer’s career will never be the same again, now that he has shown us the truth behind the false fronts that many of his previous characters maintained. In the final act of the film, at the highest point of Elio’s and Oliver’s intimacy, Hammer completely lets loose physically. As the pair drunkenly wander the streets of Rome, Oliver races towards the sound of The Psychedelic Furs’ “Love My Way” on a nearby car radio. Hammer bounds across the stone pavement, giddily screaming “You’re missing it!” His manner is silly, and filled with unchecked joy. Oliver is finally happy because he’s no longer performing; Hammer has finally given a performance that strips away all traces of performativity, because he found a director willing to do more than just desire him.