Everyone is Gay and Existential in Luca Guadagnino’s Adaption of Queer
DIRECTED BY LUCA GUADAGNINO/2024
In Queer, everyone is gay – right? This pervasive uncertainty is the springboard for Luca Guadagnino newest project. Fresh from the monumental summer success of Challengers, Guadagnino partners again with screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes to adapt William S. Burroughs novella to the screen. Luca has had enormous success with adaptations in the past, most notably Call Me by Your Name, and he does not disappoint here. His self-proclaimed passion project, Queer delves into the endlessly complex topics of addiction and sensuality in a brazenly stunning masterpiece.
William Lee (Daniel Craig), a middle-aged ex-pat, haunts the local community bars in Mexico City. His lifestyle is one entirely composed of debauchery, drugs, and drink. Functioning as a semi-autobiographical vessel for Burroughs, Lee drifts through the 1950s scenery in a drug-addled haze like a sailor lost at sea. Even though he is surrounded by fellow peers in the queer community, it only serves to highlight Lee’s bone-deep isolation. Enter Eugene Allerton, a recently discharged soldier who is the epitome of youth and beauty. Their meeting is set to Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” as their eyes meet from opposite sides of a street cockfight – a cheeky version of a meet-cute that immediately feels like Guadagnino. The two engage in a clumsy game of cat-and-mouse as Lee desperately clings to this gorgeous apparition in his otherwise dreary world. This obsession follows them from the dirty apartments in Mexico City to the lush rainforests of Ecuador in search of ayahuasca, a plant said to grant to power of telepathy.
Split into chapters, Queer manages to be several different films all at once. The first act is wrapped in romance and carnal desire as Lee attempts to understand Allerton’s sexuality. It ends how audience anticipate and have likely heard about already through interviews. The sex scenes between Craig and Starkey tend toward the more explicit end of the spectrum. In a coy callback to the criticism of Call Me by Your Name, Guadagnino appears to allow the camera to shyly pull away before yanking it back to the two men right in the thick of it. There is a primal element to Lee’s want for his counterpart that borders on unhealthy. It is abundantly clear that Lee is an addict: addicted to opiates, addicted to drink, addicted to Allerton.
By its third act, Queer completely redefines itself as it dives unrelentingly in absurd surrealism. After finally achieving their goal of finding ayahuasca, the two go on a hallucinogenic trip guided by Leslie Manville as a crazed botanist. What follows is a delectable montage of body horror that is equally chilling as it is celebratory. The choreographed dance between the actors is every little bit sensual as it is delicately intimate. These are visuals that are meant to be seen, not described, and are guaranteed to leave audiences discussing every detail. The fallout from this psychedelic journey alters Lee and Allerton in irreversible ways and defines their relationship.
The brash, opiate junkie that is William Lee is a far cry from the role that introduced Craig as a household name. Long gone is the era of the slick, debonair MI6 agent. His interpretation of Lee shifts from witty self-deprecation to shaky vulnerability when confronted with his desires. At first, Craig plays Lee as a self-assured man seemingly comfortable in his sexuality as he openly discusses he relationships with his best friend Joe (a barely recognizable Jason Schwartzman) the bedroom. The moment he locks eyes with Allerton, all that bravado rapidly crumbles. He stumbles through his interactions with the suave stranger like a bumbling teenager in the throes of their first crush. There is also a plethora of close-ups for Craig, and he utilizes every single one to demonstrate his position as a powerhouse actor. A particularly haunting scene has Lee shooting up alone in his apartment. The camera remains trained solely on Craig as we watch him drift into the haze of the drug and disassociate from his mournful reality.
Starkey does not leave his veteran counterpart alone to do all the heavy lifting. Whereas Craig thrives in portraying Lee’s sensitivity, Starkey instead leans into the elusive mystery that blankets Allerton. Even when he eventually falls into bed with Lee, his resolutely aloof nature makes him remain frustratingly unattainable. He may be younger than Lee, but the naivety that defines the relationship in Call Me by Your Name has no presence here. If anything, Allerton appears to be the one with a firm grip on the reins here. He is just as comfortable rejecting Lee as he is reciprocating his desires. He is the passenger strapped into a ride destined to crash, but somehow has the option to exit whenever he would so choose. It is not until the mind-bending third act that Allerton cracks open to unearth the twisted turmoil within.
There is no doubt that most audiences will need to sit and digest the material presented here. And there is plenty of material, ranging from the exploration of sensuality vs. sexuality, the commentary on addiction, and the overall buffet of visual imagery. Guadagnino manages to package it all into the story of a solitary man with a soul constantly searching for an unachievable connection. It is all tied together with melancholic epilogue that serves as a requiem to the consuming pain of isolation and the haunting power of unrequited love. Most of all, it feels like a genuine homage to Burroughs, from one artist to another.