William Lee (Daniel Craig) is a contradictory man. He's a showboater, a guy who tips his hat and does a little dance if he spies a familiar face sitting in a nearby diner. Also, there's always a pistol located directly on his hip. Confidence and perilous worry dominate the man's mind as he navigates Mexico City in the 1950s. Adapted from the 1984 William S. Burroughs novella of the same name, Queer writer Justin Kuritzkes and director Luca Guadagnino follow Lee becoming deeply infatuated with Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey). All he wants to do is caress this fellow, feel their lips intertwining. This young man doesn't really talk to Lee all that much. Heck, he might not even be queer.
Isn’t that human nature, though? Our hearts, bodies, and souls yearn for those who ignore us. The cold shoulder is often just seen in our loneliness-soaked minds as another form of foreplay. Lee and Allerton keep running into each other and having physical encounters, all while the former character succumbs deeper and deeper to the horrors of addiction. Opiates fuel Lee, as does a desire to find a rare South American plant allegedly capable of telepathy. That's what Lee wants more than anything, telepathic communication. He’s chasing something that only exists in fantasy…like true, perfect love.
Me and my biases certainly got served up an unexpected surprise on Queer. I walked into this Luca Guadagnino joint believing this feature would spiritually evoke 2017's Call Me by Your Name. That's not just because it’s another feature from the Italian auteur about dudes loving dudes. It's also due to the supposed emphasis on yearning and relationships that can never last. However, in execution, Guadagnino and Kirtzkes have instead created a companion piece to this filmmaker’s 2018 masterpiece Suspiria. Like that pinnacle of horror remakes, Queer is a surrealist endeavor thriving on horrific imagery and the distortion of human bodies.
Applying that style to Queer’s specific story is a fascinating choice. To be queer in this era of history was to instantly make yourself a pariah. Your vision of “reality” was not the same as a cis-het WASP living comfortably behind a picket fence somewhere. Thus, Queer eschews “realism” in favor of utilizing miniatures, brightly colored sets, and even backgrounds evoking matte paintings. This approach also results in trippy sequences reflecting Lee’s psyche in stark, bizarre ways. I certainly didn’t expect to see a writhing, bloody fetus lying on the pavement when I walked into Queer, nor beating hearts exploding on the jungle floor.
Guadagnino’s freaky visual impulses transformed Suspiria into a cornucopia of unhinged madness. Queer isn’t nearly that exceptional or enthralling, but this filmmaker’s affinity for unusual imagery is still remarkable. Especially terrific is a third-act sequence depicting Lee and Allerton's bodies blending into one another on a potent drug trip. It's an erotic yet quietly unnerving scene asking the arcane question "What if Society's shunting sequence was filtered through Joel Schumacher’s fascination with the chiseled male form?”. It’s an incredibly evocative depiction of desire and psychedelic transcendence.
That set piece emerges during the weakest part of Queer. This is where Lee and Allerton travel through a South American jungle to meet Dr. Cotter (Lesley Manville). Far be it from me to dispute any movie delivering incredible sights like Manville wielding a shotgun or shooing away a poisonous snake with ease. However, the Kuritzkes screenplay just isn’t quite as compelling out in the natural world compared to Lee and Allerton's incredibly confined experiences in Mexico City. In the latter environments, there are always new characters (like Jason Schwartzman’s delightful Joe Guidry) or interesting music cues (like an amazingly anachronistic Nirvana needle drop) to explore.
Within these South American domiciles, Queer succumbs to repetition thanks to the limited number of characters and backdrops. Even jolts of life from surrealist digressions couldn’t keep me from thinking Queer loses steam as it goes on. Consistently impressing throughout the whole feature, though, is Craig. This man continues to have an outstandingly audacious career beyond the 007 role that propelled him to stardom. Like with his Knives Out and Logan Lucky performances, Craig once again embraces distinctive vocal flourishes for William Lee. At times, he sounds a bit like Ben Kingsley’s on-air Mandarin voice in Iron Man 3. Other times he evokes a weary college professor after one too many drinks.
There’s an absorbing grandiose quality to Craig’s line deliveries, such as him delivering the most pronounced declaration of “homosexual” ever put to the silver screen. These deeply externalized touches really resonate as impressive, though, when contrasted with his more subdued portrayals of William Lee. An extended single-take sequence depicting Lee shooting himself up with heroin in his apartment sees Craig communicating such anguish without ever opening his lips or flickering his eyes. His facial expression remains stagnant throughout the entire shot, yet he hauntingly emanates the aura of a man trapped between his impulses and realizing those inclinations are killing him. Craig’s portrayals of Lee’s most flagrant displays of yearning are also tremendously impressive.
This man’s bravura turns as William Lee is a great anchor to hinge an entire movie on, especially since it mirrors Queer’s similarly outsized impulses. It’s lovely how even seedy hotel hallways in this feature are rendered in bright shades of red. Dangerous snakes pop from the shadows decked out in yellow, while the vivid hues of various Mexico City neon signs beckon Lee down for one more drink. This is a deeply sumptuous movie lovingly realized through Sayombhu Mukdeeprom's cinematography. What an outstanding capper to this man's incredible year (which also included Challengers and Trap), as if his unforgettable Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives lensing wasn’t enough to solidify him as a legend!
Compared to past Guadagnino movies, Queer doesn’t quite translate its vivid visuals and fascination with human bodies into reaching the artistic heights of Suspiria, Challengers, and Bones and All. Slightly lesser Guadagnino still makes for a tasty cinematic meal, though, especially when it involves terrific miniatures, an original Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross score, and another winning Daniel Craig performance. Come to Queer for more Craig goodness, stay for the Suspiria-esque surrealism.