guadagnino trades in heat and desire, but here it’s all unresolved. there’s no catharsis. no transcendence. just longing folding in on itself. the camera lingers like lee does — too long, too close, too exposed. the film stages desire as absence, in the way lee wants to possess what he cannot even name.
lee isn’t in love with eugene; he’s haunted by him. not the person, but the idea. the possibility. the unattainable object that keeps his desire alive. it’s…
