Queer Review: A Visionary Trip into the Tormented Soul

Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Queer’, adapted from William S. Burroughs’ unfinished 1950s novella, takes us deep into the heart of obsession. We meet Bill Lee, played compellingly by Daniel Craig, wandering the expat bars of postwar Mexico City. Plagued by addiction and haunted by tragedy, Lee finds distraction in casual encounters—until he lays eyes on the beautiful and enigmatic Eugene, played by Drew Starkey in his breakout role.

Lee is desperate to connect with Eugene, increasingly wrapping his identity in the younger man’s approval. But Eugene remains affectingly detached, to Lee’s mounting frustration. Their push-pull dynamic, of raw need countered by cool indifference, makes for gripping drama. Behind the sensuality and spectacle, Guadagnino’s neo-noir captures the destructiveness of unrequited passion.

Lee’s addiction intensifies as his grip on Eugene slips. In a bold bid to keep the man close, he convinces him to embark on a hallucinatory adventure into the Amazon, seeking a legendary drug said to unlock psychic abilities. There, in a fever-dream climactic scene, Guadagnino transforms the film into a psychedelic trip, warping minds and realities.

We emerge with a new respect for how far obsession can warp a person. Presented with empathy and visual flair, ‘Queer’ proves a haunting voyage into the human capacity for devotion—and self-destruction.

Voyage into Obsession

We’re introduced to Bill Lee drifting between the expat bars of 1940s Mexico City. Still reeling from past tragedies, he numbs the pain with drink and heroin. But a chance encounter shakes Lee’s routine.

When the mysterious Eugene catches his eye, Lee is enthralled. Pursuing the younger man isn’t easy—Eugene remains aloof to Lee’s advances. But the man’s stunning looks and charm intrigue Lee too much to quit. As their friendship grows, a physical connection develops.

Yet intimacy leaves Lee wanting more. Consumed by his need, drugs no longer satisfy either. Lee sees Eugene as the cure for his loneliness. But the man keeps Lee at arm’s length, oblivious to the older man’s growing obsession.

Craving a way to bond with Eugene, Lee becomes fixated on a hallucinogenic plant said to unlock telepathy. He convinces Eugene to join an expedition deep into the Amazon, seeking the legendary drug.

There, in a remote hut, they meet a wild scientist conducting ayahuasca experiments. The brew opens a portal into each other’s minds. But the life-altering trip takes a disturbing turn, fraying realities.

We later find Lee alone, haunted by visions of the past. The film leaves on a haunting note, emphasizing how far love—and addiction—can warp our lives. While ambiguous, Guadagnino traces obsession to its disturbing core, proving a gripping psychological voyage.

Breaking the Boundaries

With Queer, Luca Guadagnino crafts one of the most daring literary adaptations in recent memory. He takes William Burroughs’ strange, unfinished novella and transforms it into a gripping cinematic experience.

Guadagnino takes big risks with this material. Queer pushes boundaries in its graphic portrayals of gay sexuality. But the director handles such scenes intimately, never for mere shock value. His unflinching realism fosters empathy for characters.

Screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes opens up the source material. The narrative blooms from Burroughs’ sparse internal monologues. This lets Guadagnino broaden the film’s scope, taking us on a mind-warping hallucinatory journey. Yet the director keeps the story firmly centered on its characters.

Authentically recreating Mexico City and jungle settings was no easy task. But transporting production to Cinecittà backlots pays off, lending an unsettlingly realistic edge. Period flourishes like costumes feel lived-in, not stylistic.

Guadagnino forges a balance between the grounded and the surreal. Flashbacks flesh out backstories while trippy sequences plunge us into characters’ interior worlds. His supple, subjective storytelling keeps us as destabilized as the characters.

Through it all, the film remains intensely intimate. Its unorthodox interpretations ring true to Burroughs’ outsider spirit. In Guadagnino’s skilled hands, Queer transcends its unconventional origins to become a haunting portrait of human obsession. His is a vision that breaks conventions in service of deeper understanding.

Capturing the Illusory Worlds

Sayombhu Mukdeeprom works wonders with the camera. Sweeping us into Queer’s surreal atmospheres, he imbues every frame with raw, vivid life. Behind grimy surfaces lurk flickers of beauty and desire.

Mukdeeprom sees into characters’ fraying minds. Flashbacks and waking dreams drift seamlessly into scenes. We share the intensity of Lee’s obsession, like a disturbing glimpse into his soul. Each trippy ayahuasca sequence plunges us deep into this imagination.

Production designer Stefano Baisi brings period Mexico City to dingy, tantalizing life. Every gritty backalley bar flies with lived-in realism. Yet JW Anderson’s meticulous costumes offer portals into characters’ inner worlds.

Even Cinecittà backdrops authentically set this decaying drama. The fake environments feel unsettlingly real. Yet recreating Ecuador’s jungle tested Basil’s skills. While atmospheric, the set captures nature’s menace more than lush wilderness.

Together, these crafts merge to transform sensory details into emotional truth. We drift through locations blurred by subjective experience. Guadagnino shakes perceptions, just as Ayahuasca shakes these men to their cores. His collaborators capture the dissociative grips of obsession, addiction, and love.

Baring Souls on Screen

Daniel Craig delivers the performance of his career as Bill Lee. Sinking fully into the role, he captures the man’s charm, tragedy, and desperate longings. We feel Lee’s every joy, ache, and self-destructive impulse.

Drew Starkey matches Craig’s intensity as the aloof object of obsession, Eugene. His guarded countenance and cautious gestures speak volumes. Starkey ensures Eugene remains an enigma while eliciting our empathy.

Unrecognizable in another transformation, Jason Schwartzman brings levity as the unflappable Joe. His spirited turn lightens bleak realities but doesn’t undermine the paths.

Most astounding is how Craig humanizes Burroughs, long been reduced to an addict caricature. He locates the writer’s own lost loves and unanswered needs beneath electric charisma. We exit understanding Burroughs in a new light.

Across arcs of destruction and self-knowledge, the actors immerse us in interior worlds unraveling. Cool exteriors crack, baring fragile souls within. Intimacy and betrayal etch themselves on gaunt, gripping faces.

Queer’s stars excavate novel depths from sparse source material. Their raw souls, rendered with care and candor, make Burroughs and company’s plights shatteringly real, and their love is all too human.

Beyond the Flesh

Queer delves deep into the human potential for self-destruction. At its core lies obsession—and the ruins it leaves in its wake.

Lee becomes consumed by his fixation on Eugene, even as it drives all else away. Addiction itself stems from an inner void, one Lee seeks constantly to fill. His dependence works only to alienate the very object of desire keeping him alive.

Set amid post-war queer subcultures, the film handles issues of identity with nuance. It presents sexuality as simply one facet of humanity, not its defining trait. Lee’s longings say more about the universal need for intimacy.

Reality itself grows slippery within this exploration. Hallucinogens warp perception in scenes dissolving boundaries between minds. Are such experiences simply chemical, or might they reveal deeper layers of the human condition?

Psychedelic voyages here mirror the subjective slippery slopes of infatuation. One slips so easily from fascination into fusion, desperately grasping at another to avoid confronting the self. Yet therein lies no escape from inevitable isolation.

Throughout, echoes of Burroughs own life reverberate—his constant struggles with loss, dependence, and the limitations of mortal flesh. But his quest to break free of constraints through imagination finds expression in Guadagnino’s fluid, transformative storytelling.

In the end, Queer reminds us that even in our darkest fantasies of merging with another, we cannot flee solitude. The only answers lie within, where authentic intimacy ultimately resides—beyond all superficial pleasures of the flesh.

A Vision to Remember

Queer is a cinematic masterstroke from Luca Guadagnino. In adapting Burroughs’ strange novella, the director crafts his most bold, penetrating work yet.

Divisive upon release, this film’s notoriety will only grow its cult following over time. Demanding but unforgettable, it challenges all it encounters. Audiences will continue debating its meanings for years to come.

At its heart lies Daniel Craig’s staggering portrayal of desperate devotion and self-destruction. Awards are sure to come the actor’s way for this unflinching portrayal. He engraves Bill Lee upon our memories in indelible ink.

Stranger than fiction, this hallucinatory journey into an obsessive mind leaves an inescapable mark. Its surreal sequences and unanswered questions will linger with you, forever changing how you view the human capacity for devotion and demise.

Above all, Queer presents a profound reflection on how ruinous passion can become when the object of our fixation remains beyond reach. It proves that in the blistering illumination of unrequited love, we often see ourselves most clearly.

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