Introduction and the Art of Adaptation
“Call Me By Your Name” is the sweeping tale of a summer romance between Elio and Oliver set against the lush backdrop of 1980s Italy. The film, directed by Luca Guadagnino, was showered with accolades and is considered a modern classic in LGBTQ+ cinema. But before it mesmerized audiences on the silver screen, it was a novel penned by André Aciman. This isn’t merely a success story for the filmmaker or the actors but a triumph of adaptation. And if you’re keen on writing a screenplay, studying adaptations should be part of your game plan.
Adaptation in the world of screenwriting is both an art and a science. It’s an art because you need to figure out how to retain the essence, the emotions, and the nuances of the original source material. However, it’s also a science because it requires a robust understanding of screenplay structure, character arcs, pacing, and other mechanical aspects of screenwriting. It’s like cooking a complicated dish—you have the raw ingredients, but you need to know how to combine them to create a dish that not only tastes good but looks and smells appetizing as well.
Adapting a novel to a screenplay isn’t as simple as just visualizing what’s on the page. The text of a novel allows for internal monologues, intricate backstories, and a pacing that’s free to slow down and explore. Films generally don’t afford that luxury. They are confined to a two-hour-ish runtime where every scene must be judiciously designed to advance the plot or develop the characters. You can’t just transcribe; you have to translate the medium’s essence.
The case of “Call Me By Your Name” is particularly instructive here. The novel thrives on Elio’s internal monologue, his agonizing and exhilarating experience of first love, unfolding primarily inside his head. Translating that into a script? Now that’s a challenge. It’s like trying to catch lightning in a bottle twice. How do you communicate the weight of Elio’s thoughts through action, dialogue, and expression?
Remember, when writing a screenplay, you’re writing for a collaborative medium. This means, unlike a novelist who is a lone ranger of sorts, you’re part of a larger ecosystem involving directors, actors, cinematographers, and even set designers. Your words are not the final product but the blueprint. Understanding the visual and auditory aspects of storytelling, therefore, becomes paramount.
Seasoned screenwriters often emphasize the importance of visual storytelling. A script is not a novel. In a novel, you can spend an entire page describing a room, whereas in a script, you might get away with, “INT. VICTORIAN LIVING ROOM – DAY – SUNLIGHT POURS THROUGH LACE CURTAINS.” That’s it. You need to trust the director and the production team to bring that vision to life.
But it’s not all constraints and limitations; adaptation offers a wealth of opportunities as well. For instance, you get the chance to explore subtext, something that might be explicit in the novel but can be shown rather than told in a film. Think about how Elio watching Oliver dance to “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs becomes an entire emotional landscape communicated through glances and body language.
Perhaps one of the most rewarding aspects of adaptation is the process of problem-solving. Every novel presents its own set of challenges, and finding cinematic solutions can be incredibly fulfilling. You’re essentially adding a new layer to an already rich text. In “Call Me By Your Name,” think about how the use of music becomes a storytelling device, transcending mere background score to become almost a character in itself.
The Power of Subtext and Symbolism in “Call Me By Your Name”
Let’s plunge headlong into the nitty-gritty aspects of the “Call Me By Your Name” screenplay to understand how subtext and symbolism can elevate the written word into visual poetry. One of the vital screenwriting tips you’ll get from veterans in the industry is to “show, don’t tell.” In a novel, you have the latitude to explain, to delve deep into a character’s psyche through inner monologue. In a screenplay, however, you often need to be far more economical, and that’s where subtext becomes your best friend.
Take, for example, the famous peach scene. In the novel, this moment carries considerable weight through Elio’s introspection. On screen, dialogue is sparse, but the power of the moment isn’t diminished. The actions and reactions become the words unsaid. The viewer understands the emotional depth through the characters’ expressions, the deliberate pacing, and even the tactile quality of the peach itself. Every element works together to provide an understanding that a simple conversation might not capture.
Understanding how to write subtext effectively is like wielding a magic wand in the realm of screenwriting. Imagine you’re the composer of an orchestra, and every nod, smile, pause, or tear from your characters is an instrument. Subtext is your composition—the silent yet profoundly resonating tune that adds emotional layers to the visual storytelling.
You can’t talk about “Call Me By Your Name” without delving into its rich tapestry of symbols. The film isn’t merely set in a picturesque Italian landscape for aesthetic pleasure. The setting itself is a character, a symbol of the fleeting yet eternal nature of youthful love and passion. It’s not just about the ‘where’; it’s also about the ‘when.’ The 1980s setting isn’t just a throwback; it serves to accentuate the social constraints and freedoms, the conflict and liberation, in a pre-digital, pre-social media age.
Then there are the smaller, subtler symbols sprinkled throughout—like the recurring motif of classical statues. These statues, evoking ancient ideals of masculine beauty, are a mirror to Elio’s own budding understanding of his sexuality and attraction. They become silent participants in his inner dialogue, again conveying what in a novel might have been several paragraphs of internal monologue.
And who could forget the Sufjan Stevens’ musical tracks that punctuate key moments? In screenwriting, you may not have direct control over the score, but understanding the emotional rhythm of your story allows for such impactful artistic collaborations. In “Call Me By Your Name,” the songs aren’t mere background; they are narrators, confidants, and at times, the echoing sounds of the characters’ innermost thoughts and feelings.
One of the most essential writing prompts for anyone looking to adapt a novel is to ask, “What are the underlying themes, and how can I represent them visually?” Whether you’re a budding screenwriter or an established one looking to improve writing skills, this exercise can be an invaluable asset. In “Call Me By Your Name,” themes of fleeting youth, sexual awakening, and the excruciating beauty of first love are not just told but shown through subtext and symbolism.
Another takeaway here is the way dialogues are crafted. “Call Me By Your Name” offers a master class in crafting dialogue that serves multiple functions—moving the plot forward, character development, and thematic resonance. The dialogue isn’t there just to fill the silence; it’s there to echo the larger human experience that the story aims to encapsulate. Dialogue in a screenplay is a precious commodity; each line should be multifunctional.
And it’s not just what’s said, but what’s deliberately left unsaid that counts. Consider the scene where Elio’s father gives him the tacit permission to be himself without explicitly stating it. The dialogue is a masterpiece of subtext, laden with emotional gravitas yet delicate as a feather. Learning the craft of such dialogue writing isn’t just a skill; it’s an art form. It requires a deep understanding of the characters, the setting, and most importantly, the human condition.
Crafting Authentic Relationships and Emotional Arcs in “Call Me By Your Name”
Dive into any masterfully executed story—be it novel, film, or stage—and you’ll find the crux of emotional resonance often lies in the relationships between characters. “Call Me By Your Name” is no different, offering an emotionally textured and authentic view of relationships. When we talk about writing a screenplay, this factor can either make or break your narrative, and today, we’re dissecting the core principles that make the relationships in this film so indelible.
First, let’s talk about chemistry, something that isn’t exclusive to a high school lab but a critical element in storytelling. We often hear the term “chemistry” thrown around when discussing on-screen pairs, but it starts on the page. How do you write that palpable tension? The secret often lies in what characters withhold from each other rather than what they share. Elio and Oliver’s relationship is punctuated by a series of pregnant pauses, moments of hesitation, and unfinished sentences. This approach creates a level of intrigue and depth that hooks the audience, building anticipation for when the dam finally breaks.
Screenwriters, especially newbies looking for screenwriting tips, should note that tension and chemistry don’t always necessitate romantic relationships. It applies to friendships, familial bonds, and even adversarial relationships. In “Call Me By Your Name,” Elio’s rapport with his parents is a perfect illustration. His father’s unspoken understanding and his mother’s subtle emotional nurturing add layers to the storyline without over-explaining or spoon-feeding the audience. Both relationships are communicated through small gestures, sidelong glances, and the sparing use of poignant dialogue. These writing techniques are essential for anyone aiming to improve writing skills in the screenplay structure.
A fundamental aspect that adds to the genuine feel of the relationships in “Call Me By Your Name” is the concept of change. People change, sometimes in ways too subtle to articulate, and that’s a principle this screenplay embodies so well. The story happens over a single summer, a finite period, yet the emotional arcs feel like they’ve spanned years. When Elio whispers, “I remember everything,” it’s not just a recall of events, but an acknowledgment of emotional journeys—his own and those of the people he’s connected with.
So, what’s the hack here? Well, consider employing what many call “emotional bookending,” a practice commonly found in both classic literature and groundbreaking cinema like “Casablanca” or “The Godfather”. Bookending involves introducing emotional states or symbols at the beginning and revisiting them in the end, but with a transformation. In “Call Me By Your Name,” the summer serves as an emotional bookend, commencing with anticipation and naivety and closing with wisdom and loss. The summer itself becomes a character, changing alongside Elio and Oliver, a reflection of their emotional maturation.
Creating an emotional bookend gives your screenplay structure a circular, poetic form, which often resounds deeply with audiences. It helps to map this out in the pre-writing phase, making it one of the more valuable writing prompts to consider during your brainstorming sessions.
Let’s also discuss the critical importance of individuality in characters, especially when they are part of a pair or group dynamic. No matter how intense or symbiotic a relationship is, each character must have their distinct narrative arc. Elio is not just a part of a couple; he’s a young man grappling with questions about his identity, intellectual pursuits, and future. Oliver, too, is not just a romantic interest swooping in for a summer. He is a complex character with his own conflicts and vulnerabilities. As the writer, it’s crucial to devote time to develop each character’s individuality, to ensure that the audience can connect with them not just as a pair but as distinct, evolving individuals.
In summary, the craft of relationship-building in “Call Me By Your Name” serves as a comprehensive guide for anyone interested in the complex art of screenwriting. From creating chemistry through tension and withheld information to employing emotional bookends for a resonating structure—these are all vital tools for anyone aspiring to capture the intricacies of human connections. By focusing on authentic emotional arcs, understanding the value of what’s left unsaid, and maintaining the individuality of your characters, you can craft relationships that not only drive your story forward but also leave an indelible impact long after the credits roll. This is screenwriting at its finest, a meticulous craft that, when executed thoughtfully, transcends the medium to touch the very core of human experience.
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