In 1950s Mexico City, an American immigrant in his late forties leads a solitary life amidst a small American community. However, the arrival of a young student stirs the man into finally establishing a meaningful connection with someone.
Luca Guadagnino’s Queer is an evocative yet uncertain adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical novel. It is a film that captures the raw emotions and alienation at the heart of its source material but struggles with cohesion, often feeling like a series of fragmented vignettes rather than a fully formed narrative. While it boasts stunning cinematography, a deeply immersive atmosphere, and a striking lead performance from Daniel Craig, Queer ultimately falls into an ambiguous space—partly an exploration of desire and addiction, partly a surreal fever dream, but never quite a satisfying whole.
Set in post-war Mexico City, Queer follows William Lee (Daniel Craig), a self-destructive expatriate wrestling with addiction, isolation, and an unreciprocated obsession with the enigmatic Allerton (Drew Starkey). Lee, a stand-in for Burroughs himself, is a character defined by yearning—an outsider looking in, unable to bridge the emotional gap between himself and the object of his affections. Guadagnino excels in capturing this alienation, making the city feel at once vibrant and suffocating, a backdrop for Lee’s spiraling descent into self-loathing and delusion.
However, the film struggles to give this longing a clear emotional arc. Lee’s infatuation with Allerton is evident, but the film keeps their dynamic at arm’s length, rarely allowing for the deeper psychological exploration that might have elevated their interactions beyond surface-level tension. Instead, Queer drifts between scenes of desire, rejection, and hazy self-destruction, painting a compelling mood but never fully engaging with the deeper existential questions raised by Burroughs’ writing.
Craig’s portrayal of Lee is a departure from his usual roles, showcasing a raw, stripped-down performance that anchors the film. He fully embodies Lee’s instability, delivering a character who is both pathetic and painfully relatable. His erratic energy, shifting between desperate charm and simmering rage, makes him an engrossing presence, even when the script doesn’t quite know what to do with him.
Drew Starkey’s Allerton, however, remains something of an enigma. The film, like the novel, presents him more as an idea than a fully developed character—an object of obsession rather than a person in his own right. This lack of depth makes it difficult to fully invest in the relationship at the story’s core. While this may be intentional, highlighting the asymmetry of their connection, it also leaves much of the film feeling emotionally hollow.
One of Queer’s greatest strengths is its visual and atmospheric richness. Guadagnino, alongside cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, crafts a world that is both dreamlike and tactile. The film’s Mexico City is a landscape of smoke-filled bars, sun-drenched streets, and dimly lit rooms steeped in loneliness. Every frame is meticulously composed, evoking a sense of timelessness that enhances the film’s melancholic tone.
However, while Queer is visually captivating, its storytelling is less assured. Guadagnino has never been a director particularly concerned with traditional narrative structures, but here, the lack of cohesion feels more like an oversight than an artistic choice. The film drifts between moments of surrealism and grounded drama, sometimes to great effect, but often at the expense of narrative clarity. The final act, in particular, leans into abstraction in a way that feels less like an intentional crescendo and more like an unraveling of the story’s already tenuous structure.
Queer resists conventional storytelling. Guadagnino seems caught between honoring the fragmented nature of the source material and trying to shape it into something more traditionally cinematic. The result is a film that often feels unsure of itself—committed to Burroughs’ themes but hesitant to fully embrace his chaotic, free-associative style. Queer occupies an in-between space. It captures the mood and essence of Burroughs’ world but never fully commits to either realism or abstraction. This hesitancy makes the film feel oddly restrained, as if it is holding back from diving into the true depths of its protagonist’s psyche.
The film’s sound design and score further enhance its hypnotic, immersive quality. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide a haunting soundtrack that oscillates between jazz-infused melancholy and eerie electronic pulses, underscoring the film’s shifting tones. The use of ambient noise—whispered conversations, the hum of neon signs, the distant echoes of the city—adds to the sense of isolation and disorientation that permeates the film.
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Yet, while the film’s sonic landscape is beautifully crafted, it sometimes feels more effective at setting a mood than driving the story forward. Like much of Queer, the music and sound design contribute to an overall aesthetic experience rather than a tightly woven narrative.
Queer is an undeniably beautiful and emotionally raw film, but it remains frustratingly elusive in its storytelling. Guadagnino has crafted a visually stunning meditation on alienation, longing, and self-destruction, yet the film never quite finds its footing in terms of narrative clarity. Daniel Craig delivers one of his most vulnerable performances, elevating the film even when the script falters. However, the lack of a strong emotional arc and the fragmented nature of the storytelling prevent Queer from being as powerful as it could have been.
For those willing to embrace its dreamlike pacing and elliptical structure, Queer offers a haunting, melancholic experience. But for those looking for a film that fully engages with Burroughs’ themes in a cohesive and impactful way, it may feel like an incomplete exploration—compelling in moments but ultimately uncertain of how to translate its source material’s complexity into cinematic form.
Queer is coming to Aotearoa NZ cinemas April 3, 2025
Runtime: 136 minutes
Classification: TBC
Classification: TBC