With Pride Month coming to a close, Neil Cadieux casts a look back at Queer.
Seven years after Call Me by Your Name won the hearts and minds of audiences and Academy voters, Queer was released. An adaptation of William S. Burrough's semi-autobiographical 1950 novella, it underperformed at the box office. While some publications, including our own Film Ireland, lauded the work, others gave passing kudos to only a few elements. For The Guardian, Wendy Ide praised Daniel Craig's performance as "terrific" but adds that the dreamlike final act becomes "self-indulgent." This was one of many outlets, including The Times and Time Out that took issue with the generously sized run-time and psychedelic third act.
Timing plays a factor here, as Queer is the second of two Luca Guadagnino features released in 2024. Audiences were drawn to the excellent Challengers. A bisexual melodrama set in the world of sport held more mass appeal than a character study on an emotionally damaged addict. While the rationale behind Queer's disappointing reception is understandable, the film is overdue for reassessment. This literary adaptation somehow manages to rigidly adhere to its source material and paint a wholly unconventional biopic of its author. Nearly two years on, there's still plenty to chew on, and ultimately adore.
Queer's strengths lie in Guadagnino's remarkable ability to both subliminally and literally transfer the attitude of its source material onto film. Vast quantities of the film's dialogue are lifted entirely from the novella, with many of protagonist William Lee's rants playing out in full. Daniel Craig's delivery is stellar, as is his entire tenure as Lee. The smile he dons exudes infinite charm and permanent discomfort. He brings a raw helplessness to Lee, one that is reminiscent of his career-launching performance in Our Friends in the North. Drew Starkey's Allerton and Jason Schwartzman are equally fantastic. Starkey's quiet charm and Schwartzman's bodacious, hilariously delivered tales of sexual embarrassment bring the novel to life.
Guadagnino also succeeds in reminding us of Burroughs' words through its unorthodox visuals and lighting. Real sets, shot in Italy and Ecuador, double as 1950s South America to great effect. However, the film doesn't wholly commit to this period-accurate staging and wardrobe. Large, eerily modern CGI artefacts often dominate much of the frame. Off-kilter buildings and artificial cityscapes add a twinge of drug-addled fantasy to every scene. When Lee first witnesses the object of his desires, the young Eugene Allerton, he fades into an ethereal form of TV static. In other scenes, we witness a ghostly, translucent version of Lee's fantasies. Here, he conjures an idealised version of himself, who succeeds at gaining tactile, romantic intimacy with Allerton. This brutal visualisation of nearly requited love is powerful and uniquely distressing.
These visual motifs give the viewer a chance to immerse themself in both Lee's and Burroughs' fractured psyches. This is a film that groans with uncomfortable musings on sexually induced shame and longing. It even extends this attitude to its soundtrack and original score. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross' hauntingly beautiful melodies enhance every scene they play in.Queer's needle drops, which portray the same fluid approach to time as contained in its visuals, are equally revolutionary. Applying Nirvana and New Order to a period setting is commendable and unforgettable. In an early scene, Lee struts through Mexico City, pursuing sexual connection to the tune of Come As You Are. This feels both sleazy and prideful, depicting both the underground gay community of the time and Burroughs' own forward-thinking artistry.
Anyone who's fallen in love, irrespective of sexuality, can uncomfortably place their own yearning alongside that of Lee and Burroughs. Yet, the contextual placement of this longing alongside previously forbidden taboo and real-life shame makes for incomparable tragedy. Sex and sexuality were much murkier labels in 1950. Burroughs knew this, and it nearly killed him. Guadagnino clearly knows this too, and attaches this understanding to Burroughs' own life. What ensues is a deeply upsetting portrait of both fiction and fact, where Lee and Burroughs become one and the same.
The film's ayahuasca-induced ending directly acknowledges this, making for one of the bleakest third acts of the decade. Key moments from Burroughs' life play alongside Lee's drug-induced desire for epiphany. In the previous Film Ireland review from 2024, Matthew Briody dubbed Queer "visceral and sensorial". The film's final sequence defines this description, cementing Queer in this critic's eyes, as a modern masterpiece.
Queer is available to stream online now.
