Queer (2024): Guadagnino's Cinema Masterpiece
Luca Guadagnino's "Queer" unveils a powerful, intimate journey of identity, desire, and emotional complexity in groundbreaking LGBTQ+ cinema.
1. Storytelling as a painting
Transcendent world
Ouroboros (crying snake) / Centipede
2. Unsynchronised love
Contrast
“I am not Queer, I’m disembodied.”
Self-acceptance
3. Duality of the self
4. Surrealist finale
I’ve been mulling over this analysis for a few weeks. Every day I discovered a new insight I would unravel a whole new side to the love story of Lee and Eugene, or a new layer to Burroughs’ psyche.
I am enthralled by complicated characters. I think the heroes of a story are too one-dimensional, their motives too simple. People I know are always more indiscernible by comparison. Their actions are never entirely good or bad, and they are never entirely selfless or selfish. Much like William Burroughs and his portrayal in ‘Queer’.
This is another one of my adventures in thought and analysis. In this article, I will explore themes of self-loathing and self-acceptance, unsynchronised love and Luca Guadagnino’s unique touch of storytelling through sequences of images as beautiful paintings.
For a brief historical background on William S. Burroughs, to shed light on several scenes at the end of the movie, read my previous article on his past during the Second World War and after:
Burroughs is a complicated man. His portrayal of Lee both stirs us to empathise with him and question his sanity. Knowledge of Burroughs’ history informs us of something deeper to Lee’s desperation and loneliness. There is a duality to Lee, where on one side we see a predator/addict and on the other someone more vulnerable/tender.
Luca Guadagnino (director of Challengers, Call Me By your Name, Bones and All…) along with Justin Kuritzkes (screenwriter), Daniel Craig playing Lee and Drew Starkey playing Eugene; all contributed to a fantastic portrayal of this duality. Both Lee and Eugene have this intricate depth to their characters and motives. Nothing is more mesmerising than watching the story of two genuinely human and complicated characters unfold onscreen.
Luca in a Konbini interview, described how the substance of a film is found in what is left unsaid in the space between two scenes. Similar to Hayao Miyazaki’s work with Studio Ghibli, who refers to this space in between as “ma” (間 - a moment). Pausing the action to allow some breathing space, or in his words:
“If you just have non-stop action with no breathing space at all, it's just busyness. But if you take a moment, then the tension building in the film can grow into a wider dimension. If you just have constant tension at 80 degrees all the time you just get numb."
This is what haunts me about ‘Queer’. The viewer’s intelligence and perception is trusted to grasp the meaning between the lines. Communication between characters is never overdrawn or overcomplicated. What is left unsaid speaks volumes more than what they have the courage to speak out loud.
Storytelling as a painting
In the same Konbini interview, Luca Guadagnino explains that he visualised ‘Queer’ as a painting rather than a film, with “reality heightened in a symbolic way.” Where every symbol and imagery is brimming with meaning.
Transcendent world
One of the first images that struck a chord was watching Lee’s entire being, longing for Eugene, take form as this translucent ghost reaching out with his arms and body to caress him. Like a ghost on another plane of existence, reaching out to touch and smell and comfort his new lover. Perhaps this the parallel world Lee is obsessed with reaching through yagé (ayahuasca) and achieving an all-encompassing awareness. The Beat movement thought that psychedelics allowed its users to connect to a deeper awareness of ancient mythology and traditions, an antidote to the commercialisation of the modern world.
However, Eugene remains still and detached, a mystery in both this world and the other. Lee has his heart on his sleeve while Eugene is fully guarded. Lee despite doing everything in his power, never truly understands Eugene, and neither does the audience.
The second poignant scene is the long shot of Lee first doing heroin. The camera is focused on his hands and the table as he prepares the drug. When he injects, the camera pans up, and we’re left slowly observing the effects wash over him. It lulls us into a false sense of peace, but with every passing second the audience gets closer to understanding why he needs drugs for an escape. This is another good example of Miyazaki’s ‘ma’, of what is left unsaid between two scenes.
Ouroboros (crying snake) / Centipede
In the final surrealist dream sequence, we have a contrast that permeates throughout this film. A contrast between Lee and Eugene, between vulnerability and detachment, old and young, or snake and centipede. This dream within a dream shows us a snake on the floor devouring its’ own tail as it sheds a tear. Symbolising Lee’s curse, trapped in a vicious cycle of drug/alcohol abuse, loneliness and a yearning or obsession with intimacy (to an almost predatory level as he chases Eugene). Lee as the snake knows he is trapped and cannot break free, and so sheds a tear over his fate.
The centipede on the other hand, unlike the trapped snake, symbolises movement and freedom. It first appears as a necklace on Lee’s first lover, and then on Eugene’s neck in the dream sequence. Both Lee’s first lover and Eugene have the same ability of detaching themselves. The first lover quickly left after intercourse never looking back, and Eugene is almost always fleeting away and out of Lee’s grasp. Even at the end, unable or unwilling for a final goodbye, Lee finds out through a mutual friend that Eugene up and left with a random soldier he’d met, never to return. At the end Lee is the one left haunted by his memories.
Unsynchronised love
Contrast
Daniel and Luca in interviews always refer to Lee and Eugene’s relationship as ‘unsynchronised’ not ‘unrequited’. They claim that both are just as in love with one another, simply different in their expression of it. Eugene is younger, in denial about his true self and rationalising all experiences as just the next fun thing to do. Lee is older, embracing his sexuality, but tired of casual encounters and looking for more meaningful connections.
Lee walks around town with a gun on his hip, and if we didn’t know him any better, this would be the epitome of confidence and masculinity. In truth, he is anything but. On the inside he’s an anxious mess, like a teenage boy falling in love for the first time when he lays eyes on Eugene.
In contrast, Eugene looks fresh and young, one would assume he’s inexperienced and less confident as a person. Yet, he’s revealed as a very put together and in control character. He doesn’t reveal anything intimate about himself and never acts out of turn. Lee almost always says something strange or behaves awkwardly, and maybe at the start it’s exactly what attracts Eugene to him. Opposites attract but sadly that doesn’t end well here.
“I am not Queer, I’m disembodied”
The 1950s weren’t a time where people accepted those who were different. The term ‘queer’ did not hold positive connotations. So when Lee says, “I am not Queer, I’m disembodied,” he’s trying to tell us he’s stuck in between two worlds. He doesn’t identify as gay, which common thought in the 50s meant you had to be effeminate, but he doesn’t identify as straight either due to his attraction to men. So in his fascination with Eugene, when he constantly questions Eugene’s sexuality amongst his friends, he is curious and almost hopeful Eugene shares his same struggle. Every time Lee keeps trying to reach out to Eugene it’s not only a way for him to connect with his lover on a physical level, but also on a spiritual level where they can both share the same hardship in life. Lee is plagued by a drug addiction and a desire to connect, both pulling him to and pushing him away from Eugene.
“I am not Queer, I’m disembodied,” comes up at critical points in the story. Both Lee and Eugene say it every time they’re too scared to connect with the other. Lee says it when he’s trying to open up to Eugene but feels scared of pushing him away. Eugene says it after their ayahuasca trip when he realises he can’t carry on with the journey to a heightened self-awareness.
Self-acceptance
When they travel to South America and Eugene is seemingly asleep, Lee stretches out to touch Eugene’s bare back longingly, and Eugene having sensed him flinches in response. As if he is disgusted or averse to Lee’s touch. Whereas before Eugene only had to deal with questioning thoughts around his sexuality, now during their travels he’s also been exposed to Lee’s drug abuse and severe withdrawal symptoms.
Neither are on the same level of self-acceptance, and this dictates their behaviour within their relationship. Lee is absolutely head-over-heels in love with Eugene, whereas, Eugene is more restrained and indifferent. Eugene does his best to keep himself in check, he veers from being attracted to Lee sexually, to brushing him off and even pushing him down to the ground. Eugene can’t accept himself and his love for Lee. He can’t let go.
Like an allegory on love. Where a drug addict tried to overcome an addiction to a person who both doesn’t reciprocate the same level of attraction, and does reciprocate it but the excessive intimacy is driving him away.
Duality of the self
What if they are the same person?
What if Eugene is the younger, more idealistic and desired version of Lee. A younger self he can never connect with or fully understand. Further reflecting Lee’s trapped fate and constant self-loathing that keeps leading him back to alcohol and drug abuse.
Even the movie Lee and Eugene watch in the cinema, reveals a scene where a man reaches his arms through a mirror (film is ‘Orphée’). We don’t get to see what happens after but using only what we’re shown, there are a few possibilities of what this could mean in this film. Either the man re-emerges, still himself but in a different form, or his self is duplicated into another being. Later on, when they’re both experiencing the ayahuasca trip, Dr. Cotter, the scientist in the jungle warns them that the psychedelic is like pulling a mirror on yourself, and you might not like what you see.
During this trip, Lee and Eugene vomit their hearts out and find that it is beating at the same rhythm. Their dancing and merging represents the conflicts that won’t allow them to seamlessly fuse and connect into one. They are one, but the ayahuasca can’t merge them together. The younger self keeps rejecting his true feelings despite how much the older self tries to connect.
When Dr. Cotter tells Eugene how beautiful they were together during this dance, Eugene is startled and then decides to leave without carrying on with the journey. The ayahuasca opened up a portal for them to love and recognise each other, but Eugene was too scared to continue. Every time they get closer, Eugene pushes Lee away.
After the ayahuasca, Eugene disappears once and for all, and Lee having accepted they can never truly be together. Is shown to literally, drop back down to Earth on the beach. Their relationship ended and we don’t get to hear Eugene speak again.
Surrealist Finale
In the surrealist scenes we see an unnamed woman look at and talk to Lee. This is Joan Vollmer, Burroughs’ real life partner who he shot and murdered. The other woman besides Dr. Cotter, is Eugene’s friend Mary seen at parties and the bar they frequent. Both Joan and Mary are symbols of Burroughs’/Lee’s internalised homophobia and fraught relationship with his wife. In one of the scenes Joan seems to mock him, questioning him in a sarcastic way if he’s queer. Even after her death she haunts Burroughs, his guilt and toxic relationship with her coming to the fore.
During her life, Joan was Burroughs’ muse, she gave birth to two of his children and moved to Mexico so he could evade drug and gun charges in the US. Burroughs gained repute following the publication of a book inspired by her death. There must be some deep, deep guilt harbouring within him. Were it not for her death his writing may never have reached the amount of people it did. Hence the hollowness in Lee, the loneliness and desperation to move on and find a new life. The drugs were both a way for him to cope with his sexuality but also a way to forget the death of Joan.
In the end, in an almost scene-by-scene reproduction of Joan’s death during a William Tell act, Eugene takes her place. Once again, Lee/Burroughs trapped in his never-ending fate, shoots a loved one. As with his wife, so with his lover. Lee, unable to exercise any control over his life, goes through the motions of his destiny.
Trapped.
Disembodied.
Like the crying snake eating itself alive forever, Lee clings to old memories of Eugene until his death. Unable to let go.