Adapted from the autobiographical novel of the same name by Beat writer William S. Burroughs, Queer follows William Lee (Daniel Craig), a gay man living in Mexico, who longs for love and thinks he’s finally found it in a young man. But has he?
Queer
Luca Guadagnino (director), Justin Kuritzkes (writer), Sayombhu Mukdeeprom (cinematography), Marco Costa (editor)
Daniel Craig, Lesley Manville, Jason Schwartzman, Drew Starkey, Henrique Zaga, Omar Apollo, Andra Ursata, Andrés Duprat, Ariel Shulman, Drew Droege, Michael Borremans, David Lowery, Lisandro Alonso, Colin Bates (cast)
September 9, 2024 (TIFF)
Queer is the latest from Luca Guadagnino, director of Call Me By Your Name and Challengers fame. The film is adapted from Beat legend William S. Burroughs’ autobiographical novel and stars Daniel Craig as the author stand-in William Lee. Living a life of lethargic boredom in Mexico, we can see Lee craves love and companionship. However, these are hard to come by in the 1950s—the Second World War may be over, but the repercussions of it haunt Lee. And, being openly queer at the time was still unheard of—one-night stands may be possible, but true connection eludes him. That is, till Lee spots Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a young man who captivates him. They strike up a friendship, but Lee is desperate for more. But what Allerton feels for Lee is a mystery to our protagonist and the audience.
Queer is beautifully shot; the cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom –who worked with Guadagnino for Challengers, Suspiria, and Call Me By Your Name — captures the halcyon life that Lee and his fellow white people lead in sunny, sweltering Mexico. Later, when the story moves to South America, the audience is immersed in rugged jungles and sweeping landscapes. Some of the backgrounds and animals looked fake, so the graphics weren’t perfect, but the cinematography is particularly eye-catching as surreal drug-induced hallucinations—the visuals are uncanny and add an eerie vibe to the film.
But, beauty is skin-deep. When translating a Burroughs’ novel, you have to ask yourself what should stay and what should go. The Beat writer is known for writing experimental and non-linear narratives with a heavy dose of the surreal and magical elements thrown in. Though I haven’t read Queer, I understand it’s one of his more straightforward writings. What does an adaptation of such a story mean when taken to the big screen? Guadagnino and screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes (Challengers) don’t have the answers, not the correct ones, anyway.
At the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) screening I attended, the programmer introduced the film as one dealing with desire, companionship, and loneliness. I’m glad I had this basis to go into the viewing, because without it, I would have been lost. But, that foundational knowledge also meant I had a degree of expectation that Queer would delve deep into these aspects of the characters’ journeys. Unfortunately, Queer isn’t able to find its footing. The story, when it focuses on romance and longing, is wistful and easy to get drawn into, but the creators keep getting distracted by creating hallucinations which interrupt the far more interesting romance.
For example, Lee has addictions, but they play out only when the plot needs it. If you have no idea that Lee is a stand-in for Burroughs who struggled with addiction all his life, you would find the scenes of him turning to drugs surprising as they appear with no preamble. Despite knowing about Burroughs’s addictions, I was still thrown off by the first sudden, prolonged scene of drug use. It came late in the film too, so was Lee on drugs for the first few acts? We’re left guessing.
Another underbaked aspect was Allerton. He’s the quintessential elusive love interest we have seen many times before in queer stories. He’s there to be gawked at and talked at. Allerton looks like an Abercrombie model, talks little, and has little personal history beyond what Lee sees. Who is this man? What does he want from Lee? Is he really queer or playing a long game? Who knows! The man is a mystery. I have no doubt that similar characters appeared in Burroughs’ life and books, but my question to the Queer creators is what are you telling us by including this cardboard cutout of a character in the film? Lee is obsessed with Allerton, he’s like a moth to the flame with this guy. Why only him? What motivates them to keep coming back to each other, especially since Allerton is cold to Lee most of the time. And yet, they go adventuring in South America together. There’s also a threat Lee hurls at Allerton at one point, but it’s treated as no big deal. I’m baffled.
I haven’t seen Challengers yet (it’s on my list), but I had innumerable problems with Call Me By Your Name, most notable being the filmmaker’s inability to accept that there were gay characters in it who have sex. Thankfully, Guadagnino is less coy about his gay characters getting hot and heavy in Queer than he was in that film. But there aren’t as many sex scenes as we were led to believe—and there’s one where the camera pans away, as if Guadagnino still hasn’t got over his shyness of showing gay sex. This film had me scratching my head with its decisions.
The worst, and most annoying, decision in Queer is to put Jason Schwartzman in a fat suit to play a supporting character. Why? Just why? You mean to tell me in all of Hollywood, there wasn’t a single plump, bearded Jewish actor who could play this role? Not one? Any respect I had for this film plummeted when I saw this character.
Whatever positive feelings I had for Queer dissipated in the third act. I don’t know what the story was trying to do once Lee and Allerton went to South America, but the narrative lost the plot at that point. We have this extended drug-addled dance scene, if one can even call it that, that went on forever but said little and resolved even less.
Of the performances, Craig is solid as Lee. I wish he’d had a few more moments to be flamboyant, because he came alive when he let his inhibitions go. This isn’t his most striking performance, but it is understated and suits the role in Queer well. I wish he and Starkey had more chemistry, but Craig makes up for it with his yearning gaze. Starkey had to look good and does so easily. He’s restrained throughout the film, which is what he’s asked to do. He doesn’t have enough to do to make an impact. He does an adequate job with what he’s been given. I don’t understand why Lesley Manville is buried in old-lady makeup. She’s excellent in her unhinged role, but, again, I’m sure there was an older actor who already fits that aesthetic who could have done the job.
Queer wants to give us a wistful romance, but it never transcends the unrequited love plot line or the tropes of queer films that we’ve seen thousands of times before. Its melancholic ending, though touching and reminiscent of the one good thing in Guadignino’s Call Me By Your Name—the final one-take shot of a heartbroken Timothy Chalamet weeping at the camera—feels unearned due to a narrative that never knows what to do with itself. I am also shocked that the casting directors couldn’t string together a shortlist of out gay actors to star in this film. In 2024! The mind boggles at the many missteps of this film. While Queer will have plenty of buzz around it, this film doesn’t make sense in the modern age of queer cinema. We have a long way to go for sustained, representative and happy queer cinema, but we’ve come far enough to expect more from a mainstream, tentpole queer movie.
