The William S. Burroughs novel upon which director Luca Guadagnino has based Queer is itself a queer thing. At first conceived as an extension of Burroughs’s debut 1953 novel Junkie, the manuscript’s gay content was considered unpublishable, and it was shelved for thirty years, not seeing the light of day until 1985. The book trod similar ground to Junkie, a frank slice of reportage from the fringes of post-war America, destined for the pulps and written just before Burroughs’s monumental artistic success with Naked Lunch.
The book is compelling material for adaptation. It tells the tale of William Lee (Daniel Craig), a heroin addict whiling away his days in Mexico City. As we join him he is indulging in bouts of heroic drinking with a group of gay emigres who stratify their social order from outwardly straight ‘Queers’ to hyper camp ‘Screaming Marys.’ Lee sees himself firmly in the former camp, vexed by his sexuality and fiercely masculine to the degree that he goes everywhere with a pistol on his hip.
Into this scene comes Allerton (Drew Starkey), a lean and beautiful ex-service man. At a street corner cockfight, Lee instantly falls in love, sensing a romantic interest when their eyes meet, even though Allerton spends virtually all of his time otherwise being seemingly straight in the company of Mary (Andra Ursuta). “Cold, slippery, and hard to catch.” is the assessment of fellow Queer Joe (Jason Schwartzman in a nicely poised performance) when Lee suggests he has bigger fish to fry outside their group.
“…bouts of heroic drinking with a group of gay emigres …”
And so it proves. The film is mostly focused on Lee’s desperate desire for Allerton, and on Allerton’s seemingly endless capacity for emotional and sexual enigma. Despite their relationship rapidly becoming physical over glasses of heinous looking brandy, Allerton is almost impossible to read, standing in perhaps for the difficulty the times presented to gay partnership.
Queer hopefully signals a return to proper drama for Daniel Craig. He dives into the part, and his ventures pay off. Pound for pound, his performance outpaces the icy, terrific turn given by Peter Weller as Burroughs in David Cronenberg’s adaptation of Naked Lunch. The figure we see here vibrates with pain. Young and horribly twisted out of shape by his own energies, this is a great performance, a twitchy two-hour canvas of soul-baring in Hades.
The portrait given here vindicates Craig as a star. He carries the movie with ease, and it’s a welcome change from the rarefied insanity of Bond. But here’s the thing, while watching I realized I would have been far happier if Craig had approached the role in more or less the same manner as he did James Bond.
Burroughs had such a distinctive and unique Kansas drawl of a voice that any approximation of it would have been in constant and grave danger of being parodic. The accent Craig settles on here, a mildly mid-western twang, does not do much extra to clue us into his character.
The fact that Burroughs was so dissatisfied with his lot seems to me a carte blanche invitation for the actor to work with less affectation, something I wish he had done. Am I wrong in thinking it would have been a majestic choice for him to fill the role with pretty much the effects and trappings of Bond, subverting that dead role (and society at large) and nourishing this fresh venture? No matter. Craig is terrific. I could watch him read cereal boxes.
"…vindicates Daniel Craig as a star..."
