There aren’t many films that can paint a picture of the extravagant turmoil of young romance without lapsing into clunky clichĂ©. But Call Me by Your Name is such a film, and it succeeds by seamlessly juxtaposing the lush Italian countryside with the burgeoning desires and tumultuous emotions of a lovesick teen.

In an unnamed town in northern Italy, at the villa of a professor of Greco-Roman history (Michael Stuhlbarg), 17-year old Elio (an amazing TimothĂ©e Chalamet) is a young man trapped inside himself—rudderless even while surrounded by an insanely sensuous landscape and dozens of similarly hot, bored teens. They spend this long summer lounging on soft carpets of grass, swimming in sultry blue ponds, and eating plump apricots glistening on fruit-heavy trees. This cycle of beautiful boredom is broken by the arrival of twentysomething American research assistant Oliver (Armie Hammer), who’s charmingly confident, attractive, and armed with the deep, smooth baritone of Jon Hamm at his sexiest.

Elio is quickly evicted from his bedroom to make room for Oliver, which sets off a brush fire of conflicting emotions: The brooding teen is simultaneously annoyed by and attracted to this stranger, whose gaze and casual touches are both innocent and filled with meaning.

The brooding teen is simultaneously annoyed by and attracted to this stranger, whose gaze and casual touches are both innocent and filled with meaning.

Okay, since we all know by now where this is heading, let’s chat about the elephant in this movie’s room: the affair between a teen and a man 10 years his senior. I imagine there was a sense of nervousness around Call Me by Your Name’s release, as it arrives at the very moment of a national discussion about sexual abuse and harassment. While a concerned “Waaaaitasecond” will definitely pop into your head during certain scenes, the direction (from Luca Guadagnino) and screenplay (by James Ivory, adapted from AndrĂ© Aciman’s novel) is so focused on Elio’s and Oliver’s deep emotional connection that any moral quandary—while definitely there—slides away like a stone skipping across a calm summer lake.

It also doesn’t hurt that everyone in the film—including Elio’s parents—seems cognizant of the affair, treating it with the same reminiscent affection as their own youthful dalliances. In fact, when the relationship comes to its inevitable conclusion, Elio’s father delivers a speech about love and loss that’s so heartfelt, and so wise, that it will help you come to terms with your own “wrong” relationships, as well as fume with jealousy that your parents were never this cool or understanding.

So yeah... the situation’s complicated. And it’s complicated even further by the introduction of Elio’s impossibly hot friend (Esther Garrel), whose obvious doomed affections for the boy will never be returned. Guadagnino doesn’t shy away from any of this awkwardness of youth, and instead lets us bathe in it. Refusing to spoon-feed his audience, he slowly squeezes exposition into the story one drop at a time, like the juice from the film’s ripe apricots. And when Oliver and Elio finally come together, well... in this world, how could they not?

The acting is fantastically natural across the board, but Chalamet is a revelation as Elio. He’s the ultimate teen: inconsolably sullen with sudden, awkward fits of enthusiasm and lust. And his emotional journey, taking place inside the warm Italian country summer, acts as a memory trigger for the first confusing rushes of love we’ve all experienced. (Trust me when I say these feelings and recollections will hit you in exquisite detail the second you leave the theater.) This is the sumptuous world of dreams and romantic loss that Guadagnino and Ivory have created, so when the memories come rushing back... well, again... how could they not?