‘Queer’ is a starkly poignant portrait of yearning (Review)

Writer Justin Kuritzkes penned the adaptation of William S. Burroughs’s controversial novel, his second team-up with Guadagnino since April’s Challengers. Queer follows the story of William Lee (Daniel Craig), an expat, and Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a young student. They have a chance run-in and become friends before their relationship quickly kindles into more. What follows after is a near-perfect portrait of what your first meaningful connection with somebody else is. Guadagnino gives us a stunning backdrop, and Craig and Starkey give us tender, raw performances.

Honestly, it’s great to see Craig free from the shackles of Bond. His range as an actor is impressive, and his turn as Lee may be one of his best performances to date. Though Lee is an outwardly-confident queer man, he secretly deeply struggles with a sense of identity and a sense of belonging. He hides it with humor and clothing, but the yawning emptiness is still there. He is constantly searching for some sort of happiness, which he often finds at the bottom of a bottle or under the influence of opiates.

Starkey is equally as captivating in his turn as Allerton, and his hot-and-cold relationship with Lee highlights his own journey. We are often left confused by his tenderness when alone with Lee juxtaposed by his aloof attitude when they are in public. Then, he shares a longing look with Lee across a bar, or simply covers Lee’s legs in bed with his own to keep him warm, and we are reminded that his journey is just as important and just as imperfect.

How do you end a story with no ending?

One of the most interesting aspects of the film is the ending. Famously, Burroughs’s novel is unfinished, left unpublished until the eighties due to its nature. As a fan of the novel, I wondered how they would finish it when the news of the adaptation was released. After viewing the film, I can safely say that they succeeded. Their ending feels seamless, like a natural extension of the source material. It is just as raw and messy as the rest of the film.

Luca Guadagnino is known for the powerful introspection he brings to the human condition, and Queer falls neatly into that category. Filled with prolonged silences and lingering scenes, as if the viewer is a voyeur looking into the everyday mundane aspects of these character’s lives, Guadagnino easily plops you into the sun-soaked streets of Mexico City in the fifties. He has an innate ability to make even the most mundane moments interesting, and we spend the long, endless days together with these characters as if we are right beside them.

The third chapter (as the film itself is divided into three chapters) may prove to be divisive for its tonal shift. However, the messages, as psychedelic as they are, are beautifully done. From that moment on, as Queer shifts gears, surrealism takes the forefront. You slip between reality and unreality, often unmoored but nevertheless compelled to find out what happens next.

I personally loved how they managed to get across the sheer atmosphere of Burroughs’s writing throughout the film. Queer can be read as slow and ambling, and the film encapsulates it perfectly with its limited scenery and moments of silent, physical exploration. We are focused on the daily journey of these characters, and we live in them with them. As we are often reminded throughout, people contain multitudes; we just don’t find out what they are until we get to know them.

One of my favorite moments of the film happens early on with a needle drop that is as anachronistic as it is compelling, and sets the tone of the film early on in a delightful way. A Guadagnino film always utilizes music as well as it does cinematography, and Queer is no exception to this. I have not been able to stop thinking about the music usage in Call Me by Your Name since I first saw it, and I don’t foresee this film being any different. This particular moment has stuck with me, and I think it will for a long time.

Queer is easily my favorite of Guadagnino’s. It sticks to the roof of my mouth, where I can occasionally tongue it and remember what I experienced. If we ever do get the three-plus hour Queer (Luca Guadagnino’s Version), I will absolutely be front and center for it.

While Queer is an exploration of love, identity, and what it means to want beyond just a physical sense, there is much more to sit with. We are all desperate for connection, and finding it is not always as easy as it seems. We often stagger through life doing what we can to fill our lives with some sort of meaning, much like Lee does. We put on a front, much like Lee does, to hide the vulnerability underneath. Several times through the film, his yearning is physically manifested, giving us insight into his thoughts at that moment. It is as surreal as it is lovely, and I am absolutely enamored with how they represented this.