Nirvana didn’t exist in 1940s Mexico City (Kurt Cobain would be born over two decades later), but this kind of time-space limitation doesn’t exist in “Queer,” where “Marigold” plays on a jukebox at a restaurant. “Queer” follows Lee (an often endearingly awkward Daniel Craig) in his pursuit of the much younger Eugene Allerton (an alluring yet enigmatic Drew Starkey). Although the film is set in the mid-20th century, its distinctly modern elements and sensibilities make it feel both of its time and of the present age.
Lee moves through the community of American expats in Mexico City, sharing conversations with his friend Joe (Jason Schwartzman) and chasing after much younger men to take home for the night. He and Eugene meet eyes through the crowd at a cockfight. Lee is immediately enamored, though he ends up spending the evening with a prosthetic-toothed Omar Apollo, who plays a dejected Mexico City local.
Eventually though, Lee catches up to Eugene and the pair embarks on a friendship that evolves into something more. The film is entrenched in Lee’s perspective, making Eugene captivating to watch, but difficult to read. There’s a tension between them that rarely lets up; Lee is so transparent in his intentions that Eugene’s reticence provides a sharp but needed contrast.
“Queer” is based on a short novel of the same name, written by William S. Burroughs. Despite this story’s title and focus on sexual identity, it is also distinctly about drugs, as explored through a trip to the South American jungle in search of ayahuasca. Lee is desperate to experience the drug with Eugene because he’s heard it can unlock telepathic abilities between people doing it together.
Eugene’s continuous lack of transparency drives Lee to want to read his mind. Despite how strongly this film is framed by Lee’s perspective, there are still moments that break through his lens. These moments expose truths to the audience that Lee himself may not be aware of. There’s a scene where Lee describes and imitates a pig being roasted alive — Eugene eventually laughs boisterously, but there’s still a sense that he’s laughing at Lee rather than with him. More subtly, there’s a sense that Lee is oblivious to this.
Beyond Lee, Eugene also exists in contrast to the other Mexico City expats. His sexuality is fluctuating and unclear, whereas everyone else (from Lee to Joe to nameless background characters) are brazenly open about themselves, despite the times. It’s Mexico City in the 1940s, yet there exists this haven in the few-block radius the film covers, where people seem free to act, dress and speak as they please. This isn’t to say that sexuality doesn’t create tension among the characters and the world at large. Rather, there is a distinct lack of societal judgment bearing down on them, as a more stereotypical story might have.
Between these attitudes and the repeated use of Nirvana in its soundtrack, “Queer” is tied to its time period most significantly by its visuals. Its costuming, by designer Jonathan Anderson, informs the audience about each character’s identity. Lee is almost always in a light suit and hat, whereas Eugene often wears t-shirts with high pants. It’s a subtle but effective generational distinction between the two men.
The architecture in “Queer” also ties it to the story’s time period, though the world of the film feels surreal and often limited — as if Mexico City doesn’t exist beyond Lee and Eugene’s tryst, as though the two of them are just as large as the spaces they occupy. Given that the film’s cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom has worked with Guadagnino numerous times previously, this change in visual style is an especially interesting choice. Guadagnino’s previous films are not observational to the point of becoming documentary, but they are more naturalistic. The locations in Guadagnino’s films like “Call Me By Your Name” and “Challengers” inform viewers of the characters and story, but ultimately are the backdrop to the plot. The locations and visual style of “Queer” suggests a world built for the characters, instead.
Where this film visually differs from Guadgnino’s previous works, one thing that is consistent is the director’s prowess in his craft. His choice to linger on his lead actors and let their performances take the spotlight is a testament not just of the actors’ abilities, but also of Guadagnino’s skill in encouraging and allowing for that kind of performance to exist. There’s a moment where Lee shoots up in his apartment — he sits back and smokes, staring forward, in a shot that goes for so long it’s reminiscent of the final credits of “Call Me By Your Name,” where Elio stares into the fireplace at his home, emotions overcoming him.
Craig, most frequently associated with his role as James Bond and now Benoit Blanc in the “Knives Out” franchise, shines in “Queer.” He plays a tormented man, but a transparent one all the same. Lee is an addict, in all senses of the word. He’s an alcoholic, or at least drinks too much every time he does drink. A cigarette perpetually hangs from his lips and he’s reliant on opiates. But even the men he pursues are a form of addiction for him. They’re younger than him, lithe and at times, unassuming. Craig embodies these facets of his character wholeheartedly, resulting in an affecting performance unlike any of his previous roles.
Opposite Craig, Starkey is both enticing and heartbreaking as Eugene, in what will undoubtedly be a career-defining role for him. After the ayahuasca sequence, Dr. Cotter (Lesley Manville) tells Eugene that he and Lee should stay longer, since their reactions to the drug were so profound in comparison to most first-time users. She says that the first time is like a door opening — a door that can’t be shut. Eugene can now move through that door with ease, but it takes another trip to be able to do so. Or, of course, he can look away. But as Cotter says, “Why would you?” Eugene walks a line between worlds, unable to let himself want as freely as Lee, but trapped in a cycle of wanting then running away, all the same. Starkey portrays this tightrope walk elegantly, his micro-expressions and body language wordlessly conveying his character’s inhibitions.
“Queer” is not a film for everyone. Although there are pans and cuts to shots out the window during intimate scenes, those scenes are explicit all the same. There are surreal, metaphorical elements that exude a sense of dread. Lee’s hunt for ayahuasca leads to a mind-boggling — but beautifully choreographed — drug trip sequence with himself and Eugene. The film as a whole is, in a word, visceral. But “Queer” is also exactly the film Guadagnino intended to make. Perhaps its biggest strength is the fact that no part of the film feels unintentional or incidental. Regardless of the thoughts or feelings it might evoke, at no point does it feel like Guadagnino is not in control.
Ultimately, and despite its differences from Guadagnino’s other works, “Queer” is an incredibly romantic film, aligning it with the director’s larger filmography thus far. As Lee alludes to in a conversation with Eugene, it’s about the interconnectedness of all people, and the idea of giving all of yourself to someone else and hoping they accept it and reciprocate. The film’s ending certainly is not as heartbreaking as “Call Me By Your Name” or cathartic as “Challengers,” but instead is perfectly apt for the story being told. During his introduction to the film on October 6 at New York Film Festival, Guadagnino implored the audience to not view the story as one of unrequited love. “It’s a love story,” he said, about two “difficult people trying to be in sync.”
“Queer” premiered worldwide at Venice International Film Festival in September, and in the United States at the Spotlight Gala of New York Film Festival earlier this October. It is slated to have a limited theatrical release starting November 27.