Matinee Monday Week #9: Queer - The Possibility in the Impossible
My review of Luca Guadagnino’s "Queer" as it relates to my 20 something romance.
Spoilers for the 2024 film “Queer”
It was nearly midnight and I was settling in on the couch of my new friend. We had headed back to his place after a going away party for my college best friend. I was sharing how impressed I was with his very chic velvet couch, when he asked me why my best friend and I had fallen out. At the party, I had been brave enough to give a speech with a brief reference to a time in my life where I was without my best friend; but explaining the situation further made me clam up. In the friend group I shared with my best friend, uncomfortable topics were ignored. Conversations were meant to be light and relationships loose, any attempts to deepen anything meant you were to be ignored. I felt emboldened to share about the riff in our friendship because I knew my gesture would fall on deaf ears. When I alluded to my months of darkness I preyed on the familiar lack of vulnerability to say my piece. But now I was in new company, and the dynamics that had protected me earlier were no longer at play. I was being asked to be acknowledged, not to be ignored.
My new friend kept his eyes on me while he stood a foot away. He didn’t insist, but his face softened in silence as he waited for me. The truth was, I had grown accustomed to being hurt, to surrounding myself with people who didn’t care. But I wasn’t in pain sitting on his velvet couch. So I told him the truth. Not all of it, but I shared what I could, and as I did I felt a brick of my wall come down.
A month later I queued two hours for stand by tickets to Luca Guadagnino’s Queer. The relationship with my new friend was over, and I was distracting myself with the 62nd New York Film Festival. I headed into the Starr Theater completely blind with an admiration for Guadagnino’s filmography guiding me to my seat, and I exited holding back a flood of tears.
Queer, based on the unfinished novel by William S. Burroughs, follows the intimate relationship of two men, William Lee (played by Daniel Craig) and Eugene Allerton (played by Drew Starsky). Lee is introduced to the audience while on a date with a young man who refuses to speak a word to him. He hurls questions trying to guess why his date hides his sexual identity as an American in Mexico. Lee is openly queer in 1950s Mexico and emboldened by his status as an American expat. He presents as a confident man, but Guadagnino is sure to poke holes in his presentation, often displaying him as a caricature of masculinity. Costume designer Jonathan Anderson dresses Lee in an original suit from the period, allowing him the illusion of fitting in with the traditional heteronormative society of Mexico City. Despite never being at risk of any danger, Lee carries a gun with him wherever he goes. His hyper-masculinity is exacerbated when he is in the company of other queer men, as he openly expresses his disgust for a group of gay men who frequent the queer speakeasy, The Green Lantern. They don’t conform to certain dress codes, speak freely of their homosexual desires, and hook up with each other. He rejects the opportunity to fraternize with them, instead opting to pick up men from regular bars and play guessing games.
The first chapter of Queer is dedicated to Lee’s pursuit of queer intimacy; however, Lee’s lifestyle choices set him up for roadblocks. After introducing himself flirtatiously to a local, he invites his partner (played by Omar Apollo) back to a hotel. Guadagnino makes the nature of the relationship as ambiguous as possible. Earlier in the film he sets up one of the Green Lantern boys as foolish when the character invites men into his home, only for them to steal from him. He also refuses to translate Apollo’s lines into English, but despite the insinuation, Apollo’s character never threatens to harm Lee. He questions Lee’s use for a gun, but eventually undresses to stand stark naked and wait to be satisfied. After Lee performs fellatio, he considers leaving his partner cash as a part of their exchange, but Apollo leaves without taking any of Lee’s property or his money. Lee is distraught, breaking down as he realizes his ultimate desire has just walked out the door. But he takes on the next day by repeating the same mistake. He shares drinks with two young men in the early hours of the evening and offers to get another bottle for the table, but he is stopped as one of them tells them they’re done. Lee excuses himself to another bar alone, his desire for intimacy once again thwarted. In a voice over, one of the men confides in the other that while he enjoys conversation with Lee, he remains uncomfortable out of fear that Lee will try to sleep with him. His final line, “that’s what I don’t like about queers,” feels like the voice of Lee’s thoughts. Lee is out, but is unwilling to accept himself. Throwing himself at men he knows won’t receive him, and hiding himself from those he shares commonalities with; he actively works against his goal of intimacy, while yearning for it wholeheartedly. That is, until he meets Eugene.
As Kurt Cobain pleads for the listener to come as they are, Eugene makes eye contact with Lee across a crowd of American GIs. Even without words, their connection is immediate, driving Lee to redirect his rejection and yearning onto this new young man. Unlike Lee’s previous American suitors, Eugene is not threatened by his identity, inviting Lee for drinks and staying up late in his company. However, Eugene is not entirely clear himself, ignoring answering Lee’s questions of his sexuality and intentions. Eventually, however, the two men are able to avail themselves, sexually. Eugene explores Lee’s body playfully and intimately, allowing Lee to give and receive, relax while being thrilled. Eugene even stays the night, furthering their connection past a temporary sexual encounter. Lee’s pursuit for queer intimacy is satisfied without having to scale up his masculinity or play into his queerness; instead he is received for who he is.
After Queer’s NYFF premiere, when asked about how he crafted a story from an unfinished novel, Guadagnino answered by discussing the concept of synchronous. In adapting Burroughs, Guadagnino and Kuritzkes found themselves caught up in a contradiction; they wanted to stay faithful to source material they knew was unfinished and capture the picturesque tapestry of Burroughs’, while also honing in on specifics. In their contradictions, Guadagnino found the story, one that he’d been telling throughout his filmography: the possibility in the impossibility. Guadagnino describes Queer as a love story between two people who are not in sync more often than they are. As I hid my heartbreak, his motif struck me.
Back on that velvet couch, part of me held out on the truth because I knew I was at my friend’s house to do something romantic. Freshly out of relationships that had left us sore, and on paths to anticipated discoveries, we dedicated days of our lives to each other. We learned new things together, and told the other about what we observed when we were apart. Our conversations about our shifting lives built the road to intimacy, but our shared kisses only stood to make things more confusing. The next time I saw him he asked to only spend time together in groups. Embarrassed by the recycled gesture of friendship I called the entire arrangement off.
Luca used synchrony to describe Lee and Eugue’s relationship, but my own disappointment made me wonder if it expanded to the characters as individuals. Lee is out of sync with himself, desiring companionship so deeply while preventing himself from accepting the truest form of it. It only turns out later that Eugene is as out of sync with himself as Lee. The morning after, Lee takes Eugene out for lunch, but their banter does not amuse him like it did the night before. They read together on Lee’s couch, but Euegene swats Lee away when he tries to pet him. As a final gesture, Lee buckles Eugene’s pants and Eugene completely deflates, sick of his touch. Halfway through, Lee gives up and lets Eugene do his pants himself. They go out for drinks that night, where Eugene entertains himself with the company of his female friend Mary, and ignores Lee for the following weeks. As Eugene oscillates between an attraction for men and women, passionate relationships and temporary flings, the intimacy that brought Lee to Eugene only manages to tear them apart.
Eugene is just as hard to pin down as Lee himself, and I felt my cheeks getting hot as I watched Lee choke himself on the breadcrumbs. Just as he had entered Lee’s world, Eugene had also managed to turn it upside down. Eugene showed Lee how he had been short changing himself, accepting him and reciprocating intimacy.After years of leaving himself emotionally unfulfilled, Lee learned that he could be rewarded for openly expressing his physical wants and emotional needs. With Eugene, the status quo vanished as an option anymore. So as Lee chased Eugene, I saw my own pain. But instead of letting my anger boil, I teared up, as Eugene was a young man navigating his own identity without a roadmap. But avoiding Lee and rejecting him with polite excuses doesn’t make anyone feel any better. After endless rejection, Lee extends himself one last time, offering Eugene an all-expense paid trip deeper into South America. Waiting for an answer, Lee drugs himself to stave off the pain.
The continuous use of drugs to cope is a theme in Lee’s behavior. Just as he abuses drugs to calm his anxieties, he uses them to celebrate Eugene accepting his proposal. What should be an ideal trip turns into a nightmare, as Lee is bedridden by withdrawals. Despite believing that in his pursuit of Eugene, he becomes a more honest version of himself, Lee’s self sabotaging behaviors still get the best of him. He is so sick that he cannot keep up with his macho identity, and devolves into a cowering sick version of himself. One night as he nearly freezes to death, he pleads for Euenge’s warmth. Eugene is forced to take care of Lee, supporting a visit to the doctor and nursing him back to health. In his ruin, Lee finds a new solace in drugs, believing it will bring him closer to Eugene, rather than continue to tear him apart.
It all culminates in a yagé ceremony at the center of the Amazon jungle. Lee has ventured deeper into South America based on tales surrounding the power of the drug of yagé. It is rumored to offer telepathic abilities to those who take it, and Lee has yet to achieve relief on Eugene’s true intentions. Guadagnino depicts the drug fueled experience as a contemporary dance, where his two characters explore one another’s bodies. This sequence is in conversation with the other times we have seen Lee and Eugene become intimate, but despite operating under the same concept, it is altogether different. The ceremony feels harsh as they jerk each other’s limbs around. It’s uncomfortable to watch Lee’s hands travel underneath Eugene’s skin, grasping for his ribs. But their travels inside one another represent their unity, their synchronous, and finally, Lee understands Euege. With every bit of solace Eugene provided, he had brought on even more strife. Despite Eugene being an illuminating force, his light shows Lee that there is so much broken inside him that he must fix himself. It is not that he is unworthy of Eugene’s love, but that he deserves so much more. After hours of wordless discovery, Eugene finally whispers to Lee, “I’m not Queer.” Whether Lee truly believes Eugene’s truth or not he responds, sullen but assured, “I know.”
I struggled with taking the Q train for a while. Waiting for the train to Brooklyn I am forced to remember how the tile felt on my back when I first relished in the feeling of being wanted entirely. I cringe thinking of how the wind felt below my skirt when my friend told me that it wasn’t me, but him. The transition out of the yagé high is similarly disorienting for Lee. He stumbles through the Amazon with Eugene, sharing no words. During a break Euege disappears into the forest, leaving him alone. But now alone, Lee seems less disoriented as he stares down his path forward. The camera shoots above the trees and pans up to the stars, this rejection doesn’t feel as crushing; instead there's hope. Lee returns to Mexico City two years after his yagé trip. He is alone, with a clear memory of Eugene hanging over him, but he is also clean and recentered in a life that better reflects him and his entire person. Guadagnino does not eloquently paint a picture of the roadmap that gets him there, that’s the part of Burroughs I have to make up for myself. But there is no longer a doubt that Lee is deserving of everything, even what he once thought was impossible.
This week’s parting gifts
Film LIST of the week: Gay Pain. Shameless plug to follow me on Letterboxd but legitimate recommendation for lovers of the sad gay genre. I know it’s kind of tired but it’s not the kind of gay where people are discriminated against or killed but the kind of angst popular hetero romance films get lauded for. I’m fighting for queer films to be artsy, deep, and nuanced.
Snack of the week: Butterscotch pretzel cookies from Whole Foods. I’m a bit of a cookie snob. I take them very seriously, so does Whole Foods. Their brown butter chocolate chip cookies so amazing that I refused to eat any other grocery store cookies. The cookies are soft on the inside while also satisfying that urge to crunch but not because they’re overdone or crispy, but just because it’s a very solid cookie. And you can taste that brown sugar for a very sweet taste but not disgustingly rich. Recently, they’ve found a way to outdo themselves! The butterscotch pretzel adds more crunch and adds to the sweetness with a salty accent. My mouth is watering to go to the store and get more, I may not be able to go back to the chocolate chip.
Song of the week: Come As You Are by Nirvana. on loop