By Leah Matthews, Third Year Classical Studies
Luca Guadagnino has done it again. Known for his mastery of cinematic desire, his latest film, Queer, cements his reputation as a director who effortlessly encapsulates elusiveness and the human longing for connection. Perspiration has never been quite so sexy. Sweat-beads are so prominent in this film that they threaten Daniel Craig’s ‘protagonist’ status. Despite my initial anxiety that Guadagnino’s second release of 2024 will feel like a rushed, conveyor-belt film, I left the cinema both corrected and utterly blown away. The Italian mastermind delivers one of his finest works yet, and although released at its end, is arguably among a contender for one of the best films of 2024.
Set in 1950s Mexico City, Queer follows William Lee (Daniel Craig), an American expatriate grappling with the loneliness of his homosexuality and a crippling drug addiction. His desperate quest for connection evokes itself through wanderings from bar to bar, in the hopes of meeting someone special, but instead meeting the emptiness of a tequila-soaked encounter with a prostitute. However, his life takes a sharp turn when he becomes infatuated with Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a mysterious and elusive young man who becomes a vessel for revealing Lee’s fragile psyche. Craig’s performance is spectacular, shattering lingering associations with his James Bond persona.
Although an initially surprising casting, he masterfully navigates his character’s nuances and contradictions- charismatic yet bumbling, vulnerable yet dominant. Next to such a complex protagonist, Starkey’s Eugene can be digested as bland-tasting. And to some degree he is, but that is exactly what is necessary. This is a film about William Lee, not Eugene. Eugene is a mirror, reflecting Lee’s flaws and obsessions. When Lee says to Eugene, ‘It is better to die a man that to live on, a sex monster’, a line lifted from William Burrough’s eponymous novella, we commence a journey that unveils the grey shades of Lee: a ‘sex monster’, an addict, an obsessor. Starkey’s perfect demonstration of pristine evasiveness illuminates William Lee, casting upon him an exposing, vulnerable spotlight.
A chaptered film of three acts, Queer is a story for the eyes, ears and mind. Attributing the cinematographer, Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, this film is visual masterpiece. An aesthetic as smooth as butter, Mukdeeprom satisfies our eyes and our understanding of Lee. He maintains Guadagnino’s signature erotic subtlety, focalising the phallic shape that casts a dark shadow over Lee’s world. From lustful infatuation to hallucinogenic sequences, Mukdeeprom’s ability to communicate to us without words is completely revolutionary. The soundtrack, composed by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, adds to the film’s atmospheric richness. Unlike the pounding techno of Challengers, this score is whimsical and understated, serving as the perfect backdrop to Queer’s intimate narrative. The unexpected inclusion of Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” within the first 15 minutes is a bold and electrifying choice, setting the tone for a film that is as enigmatic as it is provocative. Jonathon Anderson, creative director of Loewe, dresses them in costumes that highlight the sultry, sweat-soaked ambiance of the story. Sweat is invaluable in this film, coating it in eroticism and the suffocation of addiction and loneliness.
The most surprising element of Queer is its dream sequences and ayahuasca trip, which evoke the eerie, experimental style of Guadagnino’s Suspiria (2018). These scenes are unsettling, ambiguous, and visually arresting, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the narrative. Guadagnino’s willingness to experiment—to blend the surreal with the sensual—sets him apart as a filmmaker of immense range and originality. He pays homage to his past works, and gives us hope that the future of his vocation as a director is just as bright.
Running at a sensible 2 hours and 15 minutes, Queer is slow-burning, erotic, unconventional and pensive. From Drew Starkey’s gorgeous looks to an exploration of telepathy and ayahuasca, this film sinks its claws into you and lingers long after the credits roll. And to top it all off, when the depressing discourse threatens to overwhelm, the gift that is Jason Schwartzman in a fat suit is there to evoke laughter, offering levity that balances the darker themes. You will giggle, gasp and weep, this creative oasis deserves a standing ovation from all. It is, in my humble opinion, an absolute masterpiece.
What did you think of Luca Gaudagnino's Queer?
