Luca Guadagnino has long been a maestro of intimate, atmospheric storytelling, peeling back the layers of human desire, longing, and identity in films like Call Me By Your Name and A Bigger Splash. With Queer, his adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical novel, Guadagnino delivers one of his most audacious projects yet—an unflinching exploration of queer identity, obsession, and alienation that challenges the boundaries of mainstream cinema.
A Visceral Interpretation of Burroughs’ Vision
Burroughs’ Queer is not an easy text to adapt. Written in the early 1950s but published decades later, it captures the raw, internal chaos of its protagonist, Lee, as he spirals through a labyrinth of unreciprocated love and existential dread. Guadagnino doesn’t sanitize the discomfort; he leans into it, presenting Lee not as a sanitized hero but as a deeply flawed and vulnerable man whose yearning feels as visceral as it does destructive.
Through Guadagnino’s lens, Lee’s obsession with Allerton, a younger, indifferent man, becomes a haunting reflection on unfulfilled desire and self-loathing. Guadagnino makes the loneliness palpable, transforming Burroughs’ stream-of-consciousness prose into a visual and emotional experience that grips the audience. The film is soaked in longing, with Lee’s quiet desperation amplified by Guadagnino’s trademark use of lingering close-ups and dreamlike pacing.
Guadagnino’s Aesthetic of Desire
Visually, Queer is a masterpiece. Set against the sun-drenched landscapes of Mexico, the film juxtaposes vibrant, almost oppressive beauty with the stark emptiness of Lee’s emotional world. Guadagnino’s frequent collaborator, cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, captures this tension exquisitely, with every frame feeling like a painting—a mixture of lush sensuality and eerie detachment.
The soundtrack, another Guadagnino hallmark, underscores the film’s emotional currents. A blend of mid-century jazz and contemporary atmospheric compositions immerses viewers in Lee’s fragmented psyche. The music often feels like a conversation between longing and rejection, amplifying the emotional stakes of Lee’s obsessive pursuit.
A Queer Narrative That Defies Normativity
What sets Queer apart from other LGBTQ+ films is its refusal to conform to sanitized narratives. Guadagnino doesn’t aim for catharsis or resolution; instead, he captures the messiness of queer identity in a time and place where it was unspeakable. Lee’s desires are uncomfortable, his actions morally ambiguous, and his relationships defined by power imbalances. This rawness is a bold rejection of the idealized, palatable queer love stories that often dominate mainstream cinema.
Some may find the lack of redemption or likability in Lee’s character alienating, but that’s precisely Guadagnino’s point. Queer isn’t about likability; it’s about truth—messy, unvarnished, and deeply human.
A Polarizing Triumph
Queer is sure to be polarizing. Its deliberate pacing, morally complex characters, and refusal to offer easy answers demand patience and introspection from its audience. For those willing to engage with its raw emotional landscape, the film is a powerful, unsettling experience that lingers long after the credits roll.
Guadagnino’s Queer doesn’t just adapt Burroughs’ work; it elevates it, transforming the novel’s fragmented narrative into a cinematic exploration of longing, obsession, and the pain of being unseen. It is, at its core, a study of queer identity that refuses to fit into any box—unapologetically raw, painfully honest, and devastatingly beautiful.
In an industry often afraid to confront the darker corners of human experience, Guadagnino proves once again that he is unafraid to look directly at the uncomfortable truths of desire—and invites us to do the same.
xoxo,
K. Mag
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