‘Queer’ Review: Love is a Weird Kind of Magic

Just months after the viral sensation of “Challengers,” Italian director Luca Guadagnino has returned with “Queer” — a new film guaranteed to provoke and confuse. In “Queer,” Guadagnino is at his most experimental, daring to subvert expectations and genre conventions in this imaginative love story based on William S. Burroughs’ novella of the same name.

The first chapter of “Queer” establishes Lee (Daniel Craig) as a gay man addicted to opiates and alcohol in Mexico City during the 1950s. During the day, Lee lounges around a cafe with his friend, Joe (Jason Schwartzman), who is also gay. Their conversations provide necessary exposition on their everyday experiences — and the shapes that their romantic lives as gay men in the ’50s take.

But nighttime is when “Queer” comes to life. Cinematographer and frequent collaborator Sayombhu Mukdeeprom (“Call Me By Your Name,” “Suspiria,” “Challengers”) works with Guadagnino to replicate the electricity of desire in urban nightlife. The score is magnificent; composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross (“Bones and All”, “Challengers”) construct an emotional core for the intoxicating visuals.

A scene partnering Craig with singer-songwriter and acting newcomer Omar Apollo, whose character is unnamed, showcases “Queer” at its most provocatively beautiful. Flickering red strobe lights signal pulsating desire in a sleazy motel room. The abrupt and full-frontal nudity that follows disrupts the sensuality of the sequence, but afterward the pair share cigarettes in bed while maintaining a level of eye contact that is blisteringly intimate.

When Lee meets the other romantic lead, Allerton (Drew Starkey), “Queer” unveils the ugliest stage of wanting: Desperation. It’s reminiscent of “Call Me By Your Name,” with Lee’s addiction taking the place of Elio’s youthful naivete. Daniel Craig’s acting shines as he verbally and physically flails for the attention of the younger man. His embarrassment is so genuine that one almost wants to look away. It’s a testament to what Guadagnino does best: Portraying real people and relationships.

Eventually, Lee and Allerton travel to South America together, a journey that unfolds in remarkably gorgeous scenes. Mountains and streets are draped in a grainy filter that makes every frame feel like a hazy fragment of a dream. All this beauty is contrasted with the ugly sides of Lee’s addiction that manifest when he loses access to his vices — the chill of night shivers can be felt even in the theater.

Later in the film, Guadagnino leans away from a typical romantic drama to pursue the avant-garde. At Lee’s urging, he and Allerton pursue a mysterious plant that is said to grant its users telepathic powers. Here, Guadagnino employs magical realism, a subgenre strongly associated with Latin America, where the film is set — low-tier magic like this is not questioned in the otherwise true-to-life universe of “Queer.” What follows is a sharp departure from the sexy first act; under the influence of the plant, the two perform a strange dance routine that begins with their hearts falling out of their mouths and ends with their bodies grotesquely enmeshed together.

The message of “Queer” here is clear — feelings are difficult to articulate and the entanglement involved in knowing another person is not always pleasant. It’s what Guadagnino has always alluded to in his films, but he’s never before needed such a heavy-handed visual metaphor.

The crudeness of the fantasy elements could even be overlooked if the film did not drag on. With a runtime of two hours and 17 minutes, “Queer” is not an excessively lengthy film, but every scene in the third chapter seems to last for just a little too long, a fact that is only exacerbated by the inclusion of an epilogue.

When the film finally does end, it is sure to remain in the minds’ of its viewers — truly too weird to be forgotten. And while “Queer” is another triumph in eroticism for Guadagnino, the risks he takes are too uncoordinated and imprecise to provide any additional insight into the inner workings of the heart.

—Staff writer Khadijah Olufayo can be reached at khadijah.olufayo@thecrimson.com.