I finally saw ‘Io sono Amore’ (‘I am Love’) yesterday. It was, in general, a very poetic moment in my life: a warm Sunday afternoon in New York City, an older art house theater, an audience made up of young professionals, seasoned movie goers, Upper East Side middle aged Jewish couples, couples who’ve probably been married for over 50 years, and students. Phrases and words that come to mind to describe the movie itself, however, range from artistic — sensual, evocative, stunning — to jarring — one big emotional mindfuck. Harsh words, yes, but there are no other phrases in daily vernancular to accurately describe what ‘I am Love’ does to the viewer, for it is indeed more of an experience than a film.

First, the cinamatography (and scenery and costumes), under the direction of Luca Guadagnino and Yorick le Saux, is artful, reminiscent of the days of Rosellini and Fellini. The camera frequently stays in one place, focusing on a particular geometric shape or piece of furniture while the action moves around it. The camera also frequently takes a microscopic focus, noting a mole on a character’s back or the position of a fork relative to a plate. Rarely does one get a panaramic view of the Recchi house or the Lombardian hillscapes.

Second, time is suspended. The pace is slow. The Recchi house is what one imagines is quintessential 1970s art-deco Italian. The tailoring on the clothing is classic and impecable. The family values are traditional in the harshest of ways. The family business is textiles. It is easy to allow one’s mind not to have a grasp on the time period, to let it exist in suspended space, often like one does with a fairytale. However, there are moments that propel the viewer — and the Recchi family — to present day, like when the vintage year is announced on a bottle of wine. The most prominent reminder, however, is the Muslim, American businessman who, while wearing religious and business clothing, operates from a high-powered office in London and speaks with an American accent stronger than mine. It is he who buys the factory from the Recchis. It’s the epitome of globalization.

But those two elements — the time and the art — are expected. Indeed, they are the selling points of the film. However, they are only just the surface. So much more happens to one’s senses and sensitivities in the movie. Not only did I walk away from the movie feeling shaky and emotionally empty but I also resented the reviews by The New Yorker and WSJ for only preparing me for that fateful scene in which Emma Recchi essentially orgasms because the prawn dish Antonio has made for her is so divinely exquisite. They should have told me not to take anything, even the most offhand coment, for granted. They should have told me not to get too caught up in the elegance of Tilda Swinton’s face and craftmanship of Jil Sander’s clothing or Antonio’s culinary delights. They shouldn’t have let me continue to believe that Emma and Antonio’s affair was going to be the movie’s pinaccle. But, on the other hand, if I explain any more of the movie to you, I would be doing both you and the movie a disservice.

I can, however, highlight 3 life lessons offered by this slice of cinema without giving too much away:

1. To change your life, change your appearance.

The movie supports the idea that everything — from the China you set the table with to how you dress — forms a picture of who you are. If you are unhappy with who you are, you can’t just change a small piece of your life, like give your grandfather a photograph instead of a painting or eat someone else’s cooking instead of your own. You must change your person, your actions and your appearance. Most specifically, you must cut your hair.

2. There is a fine line between adapting and conforming, the latter of which mars your individual identity.

Emma is a Russian artisan’s daughter so it is clear that, in becoming a part of the wealthy Recchi family, major cultural adaptations must ensue. But, there is a scene at the beginning when, right before the patriach’s birthday dinner, Emma’s husband puts her jewelry on for her, clasping her bangles like shackles and the viewer knows that the fate of the movie and the Recchi family is sealed.

3. Don’t save your secrets.

Elisabetta, Emma’s daughter and perhaps the most fragile character, reveals her secret early on, both directly and indirectly to the viewer and her mother and brother, and she flourishes. Others save theirs until the film’s end or never reveal them at all and it’s utterly destructive.

In sum, ‘I am Love’ is a sort of reverse Pygmalion, educating you in the finer things in life and then making you pray that they are taken away. Perhaps only the NYT was right when it hints that the film pays homage to both Italian operatic dramas and Alfred Hitchcock. But even the NYT failed to predict that the wife of the Upper East Side middle aged Jewish couple would be sitting in her seat, paralyzed by the abrupt silence at the end of the movie, her husband’s hand protectively more than comfortingly placed on her back, or the fact that I’m still asking, “What just happened?”

(“Non mi conosci di più” – “You don’t know me anymore.” – Some of the last words spoken by Emma.)

[Photo from the New York Times]

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