Okay you guys, I hate to admit it, but my parents were right: I saw the critically acclaimed movie Call Me by Your Name, and now I can’t stop fucking peaches.
Listen, this movie certainly deserves praise for its heartfelt and raw portrayal of a budding romance between man and fruit. Even the Wall Street Journal review has said, “This radiant romance immerses us in the lives of two beings, a boy coming into manhood and a peach already there.” And honestly, I’ve personally never seen love between a boy and a peach portrayed as realistically as it was in this movie. I didn’t even know love stories between plant kingdom and mankind could be so simple. We never see that kind of relationship in mainstream movies. It… awoke something inside me.
I don’t know what to do. It’s getting bad. Whenever I go to Trader Joe’s, I have to ask my favorite cashier, Janice, to chain me to the banana stand so I don’t clamber atop the barrels of the soft, fleshy fruits and make love to them. At this point, it’s just embarrassing. I’ve been kicked out of Trader Joe’s 33 times. This isn’t just a sticky, stone-fruit phase. It’s who I am.
My parents had warned me of the dangers of this lifestyle: copulating with the plant kingdom is not natural, they said. The Bible, after all, says Adam and Eve, not Adam and Leaves. Peaches aren’t even mentioned anywhere in the Bible, they said. “If you’re going to fuck a plant, at least fuck a goddamn apple”, my mama’s voice rings in my ears.
But I can’t deny this attraction. So, to all my readers, I’ll just say this: be careful. If you go see this movie, you’ve been warned. You may turn out just like me.
I give it 4.5 Stars. (Bernstein)
