“Aren’t you queer?”
There is typically, or at least historically, an unorthodox element to queer relationships which doesn’t exist in their heterosexual counterparts. For one, the lack of ordered milestones such as marriage and children, which even nowadays as legalised facts aren’t commonly expected of LGBTQ+ couples. There is also the question of identity; our sexualities as humans are assumed early and often, and chances are that no two queer people will share the same journey, nor the same attitude towards labels. In Queer, Luca Guadagnino endeavours to tackle all of these issues and more through the prism of one terrible, age old question faced by couples of all creeds: what if you like them more than they like you?
Queer stars Daniel Craig as William Lee, an insert for author William S. Burroughs, who penned the eponymous source text. Set in 1940s Mexico City, the film’s early sequences follow Lee as he moves between pursuits on various young men, at all times starved for affection while getting progressively drunker and higher with each rejection. Craig plays the part with palpable obsession, regarding his lust as just another in a long line of addictions which he will do anything to satisfy. In the same way that a heroin junkie might bargain for a fix, Lee regularly resorts to begging and bribery to land his man, having gotten so lost in the habit that he does so automatically, instantly assuming any connection he finds is less than genuine.
Craig dives headfirst into what proves to be an immensely demanding and physical role. Much will be made of the explicit, unedited and proud portrayals of sex across the film, with Craig as Lee eagerly putting out for anyone within arm’s reach. Guadagnino has quoted Craig as saying in their initial phone calls that: “I’m up for anything that is required for me to be doing in this movie”, and it is this commitment that makes Queer such a radical achievement in sexual representation, certainly relative to the star power and therefore reach of the project.
Lee’s transactional exploits take a turn for the intimate then, when he crosses paths with Eugene (Drew Starkey). Eugene is young, attractive and clearly enamoured by the tall tales of his older suitor. The catch is that he also appears to have a girlfriend, and is reticent about public displays of affection or indeed even private categorisations of his sexual relationship with Lee. It is this uncertainty which provides the film’s dramatic thrust, as Lee’s insecurity gradually gives way to mania, paranoia and an all-consuming need for control, the arc of which runs in parallel to his increasing dependency on opiates.
Starkey plays the anomalous gentleman well, but by nature of the story he is required to be something of a cypher, regularly expressing just enough interest in Lee to drive him delirious. This culminates in the pair embarking on a first hilarious, then frightening vision quest in South America. Here, both actors rise to the occasion as their fragile partnership is pushed to its breaking point in a trippy, terrifying climax every bit as intense as Challengers, but to the opposite effect.
While the chemistry between Craig and Starkey is outstanding throughout, there are moments where their scripted relationship strains credulity. Much has been made of the decision to cut an hour out of the film ahead of its Venice premiere, and on the screen it does play as somewhat incomplete; on multiple occasions, Lee and Eugene exhibit behaviours which I didn’t believe had been quite earned by their time together. The film largely gets away with this due to its core themes of ineffable love, but it is a shame to know the additional scenes do probably exist somewhere, never to be seen or enjoyed.
Queer is a fascinating look at the nature of building an LGBTQ+ relationship in an era where such connections were taboos without definition, and it is a testament to the gifts of Starkey and particularly Craig that this largely plotless, often meandering romance carries so much tenderness and tension without either ever having to raise their voice. Even accounting for the handful of hallucinatory sequences paying homage to David Lynch’s Red Room, Queer is Guadagnino’s most subdued and human film to date, asking all the right questions and holding out on any easy answers. Inevitably, the results won’t appeal to audiences on the same levels as Challengers or even Call Me By Your Name, but I could’ve told you that from the title.
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