A mesmerizing “Come as You Are” meetcute between Drew Starkey and Daniel Craig, Queer should have been a major awards contender at the most recent Academy Awards. Written by Justin Kuritzkes and directed by Luca Guadagnino—notably, the second 2024 title from that exact same team after the masterful Challengers—this unique drama takes inspiration from the works of William S. Burroughs. Also returning from Challengers: composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. Here, their score perfectly accompanies the trippy visuals, highlighting the orgasmic chemistry between its two leads. A24 brings their gay gem to Blu-Ray, overstuffing it with special features, including a commentary and a thirty-five minute making of documentary. The ultimate ayahuasca trip is also one of Guadagnino’s best movies yet.
Set in 1950s Mexico, the loose narrative structure splits the story into several distinct segments, nicely cutting up William Lee’s spectacular journey. Daniel Craig (Casino Royale, Knives Out) completely disappears into the role of ex-pat William Lee. A veritable stand-in for author Burroughs, this character remains suspended in time and space, adrift in withdrawal. When he encounters the magnetic Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey, Hellraiser, Outer Banks), the trajectory of Lee’s life shifts to one driven by desire. Their meeting, backdropped by the swell of Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” and the chaos of a cockfight, feels instantly iconic.
What follows is an untraditional romance as only Guadagnino could potray. As he states numerous times in the supplemental features, Queer depicts a portrait of unsynchronized love, not one of unrequited love. This important distinction underlines a relationship defined by the ache to connect. Allerton craves Lee on the same level Lee pines for Allerton; Allerton’s closeted nature merely makes him resistant to embrace this bond for fear of the strength these feelings hold. Guadagnino’s mastery of intimate visual language—lingering close-ups, detailed attention to skin and fabric, voyeuristic stillness of long takes—pulls the viewer deeper into Lee’s fractured orbit. As the film progresses, the surreal quality of Lee and his connection to Allerton begins to blur the lines between reality and imagination. In its symbolism, Queer stitches their complex romance into a rich emotional tapestry.
The chemistry between Craig and Starkey brims with erotic tension and tenderness, even as Allerton retreats, deflects, or simply disappears. Starkey’s reserved performance beautifully contrasts with Craig’s open eccentricities. Depicting Lee’s longing to touch Allerton is a beautiful stroke of genius that adds an extra layer to their relationship. When the two men finally do become sexually engaged, neither Craig nor Starkey hold back. Their love scenes are beautifully tender, refusing to dull down the fiery lust between two gay men. Both deserve major praise for full immersion into their polar opposite personas. In commentary, costume designer J.W. Anderson remarks that his meticulously acquired period-accurate outfits were a major part of forming these two individuals as complete people. Allerton’s clothing features many translucent, practically see-through tops. Likewise, Allerton himself practically does not allow his inner being to be visible. Not until that ayahuasca bit does Allerton finally realize that there may be a real, tangible link he shares with Lee.
Guadagnino’s frequent collaborators are all firing on every cylinder: Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross deliver an otherworldly score that constantly elevates the drug-fueled sequences into Lynchian territory. The production and costume design are also exquisite. Often dreamlike, the visuals are filtered through magical realism that somehow adds further texture to these characters. The ayahuasca sequence that anchors the final act presents a haunting and altogether intimate portrayal of Lee and Allerton merging. Hearts are literally vomited out, the rawness of their love emerging for all to see. At times this segment is grotesque, at others gorgeous, but always unforgettable. In the behind the scenes, we glimpse a bit of the choreography that goes into this process—Starkey and Craig quite literally danced together in their underwear in rehearsal until they got it down to a science.
Special features on the disc include a collection of featurettes, the ‘Te Maldigo’ Music Video from actor Omar Apollo, and the crown jewel: a deep-diving filmmaker’s commentary from Guadagnino, along with the editor, writer, costume designer, and production designer. Highlights include pointing out the credits containing still-life portrayals of Lee’s activities, discussion of how Burroughs’ influence permeated even the camera blocking, praise for Craig, Starkey, and Jason Schwartzman’s performances, a mentioning of the creation of miniatures to supplement visuals, and how Guadagnino had a complete musical roadmap before a single frame was shot. Lesley Manville’s backwoods scientist also appears to be a favorite of the creative team, and she certainly goes for broke onscreen. The featurettes contain a lengthy making-of documentary that encompasses every inch of the meticulous production, and clips out some behind-the-scenes segments. Another is a frame-by-frame showcase of the VFX; this is especially fun to watch given the body-merging activities that occur during the ayahuasca scene.
Being a passion project for Guadagnino, the end product clearly reflects the expert touches of a storytelling genius at the top of his game. Screenwriter Kuritzkes needs to collaborate with him again as soon as humanly possible if the quality of their two most recent efforts are any indication. Unfortunately, the Oscars recognized neither title, but awards only mean so much. How could anyone hate a movie with Drew Starkey interacting with an adorable sloth? At the end of the day, Queer will have touched many people, especially those in the LGBT+ space. The specificity and bizarro vibes will have me revisiting this title over and over again.
Mend your untutored palette with Queer, on Blu-Ray Tuesday, May 20th from A24.
Insufficient appreciation of Leslie Manville