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Todd Haynes’s “Carol” is beautiful and nostalgic, like a call to a distant memory, or longing for a an unspeakable, hidden love. Its simplicity of plot belies a mastery of texture and mood that puts it head and shoulders above most modern romances.

The film tells the story of two women falling in love in the 1950s. The director's stylish touch stops time and extends the emotions in the film far beyond the screen. Creating a world of yesterday is Haynes’s speciality, and his obsession with vintage is maximized in “Carol,” which was shot completely on 16mm film. Objects like fur mink coats, Christmas hats, and train toy sets become the center of the film; they speak softly of the longings and hesitations of the characters. Haynes creates a world where lovers talk in gazes, street views are filtered by cafe windows, restaurants play Billie Holiday, and people dress like characters in “Casablanca.” At some points, it is really hard to believe that it is a film produced in 2015, because even the narrative resembles the stories of Hollywood’s golden age. Haynes uses none of the flowery flashbacks, shaky tracking shots or crazy shot angles that have become an indispensible part of the cinema language of the current day. In other films such a daring decision might result in monotony, but it suits “Carol” perfectly.

One reason that Haynes can be so confident about the simplicity of the story and style is the two leading actresses, Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara, whose performances are the backbone of the whole film. Cate Blanchett’s title character is a rich woman determined to have full control of her life. She is getting divorced from her dominant husband when she meets Mara’s Therese, a saleswoman at a department store. As they start to develop a relationship, Carol plays the role of a pursuer; she is playful, seductive and sometimes even aggressive, but always in an elegant and subtle way. Blanchett poses like a model shooting for Vogue even when she is just eating, and her every gaze is unfathomably implicative. In the latter part of the film, as she is subjected to outside pressures, her confidence diminishes and she slowly loses her self-control; even at this point, however, she never loses her grandeur.

The passivity of Mara’s character makes it more difficult for her acting to shine as brightly as Blanchett’s, but she still gives an unforgettable and believable performance as a young girl unsure about herself who admires Carol for her insight, her confidence, and her maturity. Many times in the movie, she just stares at Carol with eyes that seem genuinely full of love and tenderness, and when their relationship results in terrible outcomes she convincingly trembles with fear and worries for her lover. Blanchett and Mara’s ability to communicate without dialogue is incredible and affecting.

The beauty of “Carol” is in both what it shows and what it does not show. Its recreation of the 1950s America with all its cafes, its cars, its cigarettes, and its parties gives the viewer a look into the dreamy world of yesterday, while the gazes and gestures of the actresses maximizes the unspoken love that permeates in the air. “Carol” is a textbook of cinematic beauty, a true, living classic in 2015.