“Queer” (2024) follows William Lee (Daniel Craig) during 1950s Mexico City trying to connect with another person on a deeper level than just sexual. Not quite fitting in with the openly gay community, he seeks men whose sexuality is more ambiguous, which leads to rejection or brief dalliances that leave him yearning for more. Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey) catches Lee’s eye, but it is unclear if Eugene reciprocates his desire even after they start a sexual engagement. Lee’s need for clarity drives him on a quest to achieve telepathy so they can communicate without speaking. Will Lee finally find somebody to love?
If you only know Craig as James Bond, then “Queer” will shock you, but if you have been following him forever, including his supporting role in “Love Is the Devil: Study for a Portrait of Francis Bacon” (1998) or more ambiguous films with homoerotic undertones like “Enduring Love” (2024) or “Infamous” (2006), it will be like coming home except more muted and decorous. Craig used to play a lot of characters brimming with dangerous sexuality whether because of age difference or some level of psychopathy. Lee is not that guy. Even while he is engaged with a man, Lee has a sense of yearning and nostalgia for a moment that has not even occurred or passed. The heaviest lift for this film is to believe any character whom Craig plays is pathetic and would not have men lined around the block for a shot, but Craig is game to get a crap haircut, adopt a jittery mannerism and verbally vomit to fill the silence or attract attention. Even though everyone seamlessly plays along, it is impossible to buy that Lee is a target of derision and scoffing. He is supposed to be like an awkward adolescent in an adult’s body, all nerves and emotion, but people have fought over men with less wealth and a face fit for radio. Craig and Luca Guadagnino borrow a lot of Taika Waititi’s Belvedere Vodka commercial to capture the way that Lee moves through life as a sweaty expat trying to seem carefree but is obviously on the prowl for more substantial, unsatisfied belonging.
Hooking up with the younger, sleeker, more self-assured Eugene is a bad idea for the anxious attachment style Lee. Eugene is a bit of a cypher because in the same moment that he returns Lee’s gaze, he saunters off with another woman, a red head. As Eugene and Lee have a more physically intimate relationship, Eugene pulls away and closes off. You will have to wait for around eighty-minutes before the two seal the deal, but it only results in Eugene rejecting Lee more. Lee’s loquaciousness does not leave much room for Eugene to express himself, but Eugene wants to remain independent. Lee’s cloying physicality could be stifling, but they seem happy as they read on a couch together in Mexico. More of that quiet, parallel companionship is feasible yet it is what Eugene pulls away from.
Released after “Challengers” (2024), Guadagnino’s second film of 2024 and second collaboration with writer Justin Kuritzkes, who is on his second film ever and is married to Celine Song, director and writer of “Past Lives” (2023), is their first without an obvious love triangle The third wheel is drugs. Heroin is Lee’s constant companion and could be the underlying reason for his fidgetiness. Guadagnino shows conversations midway, provides little to no context and engages in little prose dumping. While reality is clear, the passage of time and actual location are indeterminate. In one riveting surreal image, Guadagnino makes Lee into a spectral spectator of his own life as a ghostly third hand materializes and does what Lee desires while Lee restrains himself from touching Eugene. Starkey is clearly a Timothee Chalamet placeholder but has more mature features without being as idyllic and unattainable as Armie Hammer. People with knowledge of William S. Burroughs II, the author of the source material, will have the advantage with a biographical cipher key to unlock whether images are memories or dreams.
“Queer” is a gentle, fragmented movie, more oneiric than what would ordinarily be a drug induced fever hallucination. It is an adaptation of Burroughs’s novella, “Queer,” which was published in 1985, but written while he was on trial for manslaughter of his second wife and mother of his two children, Joan Vollmer, a Bard College grad who also attended Columbia University to study journalism, and the alleged sequel to his 1953 novella “Junkie.” While in the US, Vollmer’s apartment became a gathering spot for the Beat Generation, and like Burroughs, she took drugs. Burroughs and Vollmer fled to Mexico after he was facing criminal charges for heroin possession, but their common law marriage hit the rocks in Mexico where Burroughs hit her for dumping his drugs, which had the unintended effect of returning his libido. In 1951, he travelled to Ecuador with Lewis Marker, who is theorized to be the inspiration for Eugene. “The Yage Letters,” which Burroughs cowrote with Allen Ginsberg and published in 1963, may flesh out the film’s denouement. Burroughs wanted to merge with Ginsberg, but Ginsberg ultimately rejected him though they did have an affair and may contribute to the composite of Eugene’s avoidant attachment style.
While Burroughs’ life may have been the foundation, there is zero ambiguity about Lee’s sexuality. Though he walks around with a gun strapped to his hip, Lee is not a threatening or physically intimidating figure. “Queer” is a far more innocent diversion with Lee just existing in Mexico, not running away from anything, but searching for something so he can live freely yet still never finds fulfillment and is not comfortable in his own skin. While Eugene is clearly his own person, the surreal aspects of the story make it seem as if Eugene is another aspect of Lee’s identity, especially as he is a constant companion to a woman who eyes Lee with a vague sense of suspicion or resentment and is more ambiguous. Is Eugene more like a yage induced hallucination, so Lee faces himself, his unwillingness to confront the parts of him that he hates: his sexual compromises, his violence and his rejection. Of course, Eugene also represents the parts of him that he does not believe that he possesses: desirability, confidence and adventure.
“Queer” is like the “Lord of the Rings” franchise because it never seems to end and has multiple scenes that could be mistaken as an ending. It gets trippier and more Kubrickian as it continues. If you do not like ambiguous endings, you should probably avoid “Queer.” If you are familiar with Guadagnino’s work, think of it as an age reversal of “Call Me by Your Name” (2017) with “Suspiria” (2018) elements, but instead of a horror vibe, a sense of wonder. Burroughs was into the occult, practiced magic and was into the music scene, which Guadagnino seems to honor in his visual style paired with the anachronistic score and soundtrack. Guadagnino omits the more sinister side of Burroughs’ biography, so Lee is not stereotyped as another sinister, exploitive gay man in film, but includes subtle nods to appropriation and occupation of Westerners in South American spiritual practices and spaces, specifically with a cab driver. Lee’s source of wealth is not revealed, but he could afford a higher fare if his origins are anything like Burroughs. In his search for yage, the indigenous people just provide directions to the nearest Western person to find ayahuasca.
Lesley Manville is unrecognizable as Doctor Cotter, the expert on the drug, and act as a fulfilled foil to Lee or perhaps another aspect of his ego. Cotter has her faithful companion and is living her best life deep in the Amazonian jungle while looking less like a respected expert and more like the local madwoman with little concern for hygiene. She is the only woman with substantial dialogue. Another scene stealer is Jason Schwartzman as local bear, Joe Guidry, who gets ripped off every time he gets lucky. Craig and Schwartzman’s onscreen friendship is so relaxed and oneiric that it is a shame that their characters are not each other’s types. In a parallel universe, they could be happy with each other.
Guadagnino deserves kudos because he is always trying something new, and even if it does not work, it is an audacious head scratcher. He is also a prolific filmmaker who puts his heart and soul in everything without fear of being cringe. It feels like a superior second draft to “Bones and All” (2022) and shares that misfit outsider loneliness that shuns possible solutions as grotesque and repulsive without being either. In a world of prose, “Queer” is poetry, and poetry is not for everyone.
