Described as his most personal work yet, Luca Guadagnino‘s Queer is an adaptation of William S. Burrough‘s 1985 novel of the same name; though published in the 80s, it was written between 1951 and 1953. Guadagnino has made a career out of telling vastly opposing stories with each of his productions – Call Me By Your Name, Suspiria, Bones and All, and Challengers were his last four consecutive films – and Queer, despite sharing some narrative similarities to Call Me By Your Name, is no exception.
Written by Justin Kuritzkes, who also wrote Challengers, Queer is more Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas than some audiences may be expecting, as it indulges in a sweaty, often drug-induced fever dream-like mentality that gives the film a specific personality – embraced or not. Daniel Craig leads the film as the perennially hormonal William Lee (the pen name of Burrough), who slinks around the streets of 1940s Mexico City frequenting gay bars and potential beats looking for any man he can find to bed; singer Omar Appollo earning brief screen time as one of Lee’s first on-screen partners.
It’s Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey) that truly captures Lee’s attention though, and whilst they eventually fornicate (in a sequence that queer audiences will specifically relate to in its raw authenticity) it’s a bit of a dance between the two in the initial stages as Eugene brushes off Lee’s advances, despite seemingly delighting in his interest. Much of the first half of Queer‘s 135 minute running time is dedicated to Lee and Eugene’s sexual trysts, in between indulging in alcoholic and drug substances, and enjoying the Mexico City backdrop; as fake as it looks, it plays into a certain euphoric nature the film projects.
Whilst Guadagnino opposing any of Call Me By Your Name‘s aesthetic works to entirely distinguish Queer on its own accord, the warmth and likeability of that film is missing in much of Queer, especially with Lee, who has little intrigue to him and spends so much of his time lusting after younger men that it becomes taxing after a certain point. Perhaps it’s too similar to the original prose, but this doesn’t translate that well to a cinematic narrative, and as much as a horny junkie might prove relatable to certain audiences – I suspect this film could be a cathartic experience to recovering addicts – it doesn’t prove universal.
As much as the first half of the film may test the patience of viewers with its meandering, slow burn temperament of Lee’s infatuational personality, it’s the second half that will undoubtedly serve as the most divisive. Throughout Queer we hear of Lee’s desire to hone the act of telepathy through hallucinogenic substances, and he and Eugene ultimately travel to the depths of the Amazonian jungle to try ayahuasca, which, in the 40s and 50s, wasn’t nearly as well-known as it has since become. Lee does find something of meaning in this latter half, and Lesley Manville provides amusing support as Dr. Cotter, an eccentric botanist living wildly in the jungle, but this aspect of the story never feels like an organic continuation of Lee and Eugene’s original dynamic.
There’s a beautiful, emotional score from Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross throughout, and the modern assortment of songs from Nirvana and Prince used adds to the film’s overall escapism temperament, but, despite this, it’s missing a certain something that assists in us as viewers to truly get lost in Guadagnino’s created world. As a queer man myself, I almost feel as if I shouldn’t be so cold on this film, and maybe my disconnection comes purely from its unexpected structure, but I couldn’t see my way into this narrative. Craig provides tragic, erotic work, but ultimately he’s not enough to keep this a cohesive fable.
TWO AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Queer screened as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, which ran between September 5th and 15th, 2024. For more information about the festival, head to the official site here.
