Shining the light on various injustices throughout queer history feels more important now than ever before. Based on historical events, Lilies Not for Me takes us back to the 1920s, where finding a cure for the ailment of homosexuality became a Nobel Prize-winning effort. It would not be until the 1970s much later when electroshock therapy and drug cocktails were used as a form of conversion therapy. First came a form of genital mutilation known as a “testicular transplant,” wherein the male scrotum was cut open and was meant to be revitalized by the implantation of another foreign testicular tissue from a human or animal. Even by early 1900s standards, this feels like a grisly act, not entirely surprising given the way queerness was viewed as something of an ailment rather than accepted in any way. In Lilies Not for Me, we follow gay novelist Owen (Fionn O’Shea, Handsome Devil, Cherry) during his stay at an asylum, revisiting his storied love affairs with two very different men. Equal parts heartbreakingly tragic and stunningly beautiful, this ferocious drama tackles sexual repression and misguided medical tactics housed within an aching romance.
In his regular sessions with Dorothy (Erin Kellyman), a de facto nurse and faux therapist combination, Owen opens up about his tormented past. In the asylum, he is just a troubled queer boy glued to a typewriter who needs to be injected into complacency. Back at a cottage in the countryside, Owen was far more full of life. Owen, a novelist still in the infancy of his writing career, begins a casual flirtation with his close friend, Philip (Robert Aramayo), a miner’s son from Yorkshire. As playful banter with Philip transforms into a sexually-charged tryst, Owen must contend with dangerous possibilities. Philip volunteers to be the guinea pig for a groundbreaking “procedure” that could potentially cure both men of their unnatural attraction.
Owen’s regular dates with Dorothy further open up the truths about what really occurred between Owen, Philip, and a dear friend Charles (Louis Hoffman), the beating heart of the movie. By way of its somewhat unusual structure, Lilies Not for Me takes a bit of time to fully get going. It also somewhat fails to tangibly establish the central friendship between Dorothy and Owen, finding far more success when solely focusing on Owen’s time revisiting his past. Still, debut writer/director Will Seefried manages to tap into the well of queer trauma without basking in it. There can be no denying this heavy subject matter recalls a historical mistreatment of gay men in history—particularly, the constant efforts to “cure” a sexual attraction that should be every bit as natural in the human species as in animals. That any levity manages to rise to the top given the darkness of the time period is a minor miracle.
Well before the disturbing surgery occurs that will “free” Philip of his tormented immoral desires, the two men have a natural chemistry. They lay together with each other on the beach, kissing passionately in the romantic lighting of a sunrise. Nothing about the relationship stands out as being problematic. The performances from Fionn O’Shea and Robert Aramayo add emotional depth to what could easily become a bleak and unsettling story. Building up to the unnerving nature of the genital mutilation, the eventual scene itself remains tastefully done despite featuring full frontal male nudity in the more romantic segments. Seefried uses the imagination to travel where the camera will not, weaving in a sense of unease and horror.
In the aftermath of the procedure, young twink Charles shows up at the cottage in the search for his missing father. The vibes between Owen and Philip are nothing compared to those between Owen and Charles. From their very first interaction, be it a lingering look or during an intimate, adorably silly dance together, Owen and Charles have a tantalizing natural attraction. An intimate sequence that unfolds in the middle of a tree on its branches manages to uniquely consummate a meaningful interaction between the two men. A sort of love triangle, an age old tactic, threatens to tear Owen away from those he holds the closest.
Despite the asylum separately segmented from the ongoing action in the past, even this angle eventually weaves itself into the ongoing plot. Both sections are anchored by Fionn O’Shea—in his earlier gay drama Handsome Devil, he showed immeasurable depth. In Lilies Not for Me, O’Shea gives the best performance of his career, a nuanced, oftentimes devastating display of emotion. The idea of homophobia being disguised as legitimate medical treatment is horrifying, even to contemplate briefly. How gut-wrenching to realize so many young gay men endured these cruel practices. By continuing to shed light on this dark, forgotten chapter in queer history, filmmakers like Will Seefried are helping ensure that we do not repeat the mistakes of the past.
Take the intimate journey with Lilies Not for Me, which screened at 2024’s NewFest.
