'Queer' from Text to Screen

As someone who, for the past couple years, has been voraciously devouring the literary works of William S. Burroughs, it felt like the stars aligned when Luca Guadagnino’s adaption of his 1985 novella Queer was announced. I desperately searched for announcements of showings around my small town in Wales with no luck, and after a few months resigned myself to the fact that such a film would not be available in my area. Then, just before the holidays, during one of my obsessive daily checks for upcoming showtimes near me, Aberystwyth Arts Centre dropped a gigantic Christmas present in my lap: three showings of Queer in January, the first of which I was seated front and center for. 

Queer, set in 1950s Mexico City, follows American expat William Lee in his quest to bond with a young former soldier. Many of Burroughs’ works are heavily autobiographical, often a surreal mix of truth and fantasy, and Queer is perhaps the most grounded and sincere of them. Lee’s dilemma is desperation for intimacy with another man. He becomes infatuated with Eugene Allerton, a young American also living in Mexico City, and pursues him relentlessly. Allerton, while initially willing, becomes disinterested and resentful over the course of Lee’s attempted conquests, remaining largely because of Lee’s material bribes. It’s the second mainstream movie in recent years to explore the particular kind of loneliness that queer individuals experience in their search for relationships, the former being Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers (2023). 

Lee’s innermost desires and insecurities are left unexpressed in the novel, but Guadagnino, via Justin Kuritzkes' script, is able to interpret them through surreal imagery, ensuring that viewers of the film understand the character’s inner monologue despite not being privy to it. Before Lee and Allerton’s relationship becomes physical, Lee’s ghostly hands reach toward the other, demonstrating his yearning for something more. In the book, Lee describes feeling a pull towards Allerton, the longing to merge with him like an amoeba. This is represented in the scene where the two consume the drug ayahuasca, and a bit more abstractly than in the earlier “ghost hand” scenes. 

Daniel Craig perfectly embodies the pained, awkward insecurity of Lee and his longing towards Allerton, his desperation for something more. Despite his skillful performance, I’m regretfully unconvinced he suits the William Lee character, due to his muscular physicality and affected American accent. In the novels, Lee is described as severely thin per his heroin-addiction, and to me, this visual is important to his character. Craig’s dialogue suffers from his accent, which slips in and out of a mildly-Burroughs-tinged drawl, to my ears not sounding naturally American. Maybe I’m a little biased, as I felt Peter Weller was very well-suited to the Lee character in David Cronenberg’s 1994 adaptation of Naked Lunch, but it’s not entirely fair to compare the two given the differing aims of their source material.

An unattributed image from the back of the book, showing Burroughs and Marker in real life.

Drew Starkey, in contrast, is a dead ringer for his real-life counterpart Adelbert Lewis Marker, whom Eugene Allerton is based on. Though his role is rather quiet and withdrawn compared to Craig’s, that’s exactly what it’s intended to be, and why it is so effective. Starkey communicates Allerton’s growing reluctance physically, through subtle expressions and movements. He and Craig complement each other well and are elevated by a strong supporting cast of quirky characters, with standouts being Jason Schwartzman and a nearly unrecognizable Lesley Manville. 

The film largely adheres to the events and dialogue of the source material. Eagle-eyed viewers familiar with Burroughs will spot references to his other works throughout the film, such as when the characters walk past an ad for an exterminator (which Burroughs and his fictional counterpart worked as), the word ANNEXIA on a wall (a fictional country from Naked Lunch), and the infamous ‘William Tell routine,’ first seen in the Ship Ahoy bar when a woman shoots a shot glass from a man’s head and repeated towards the end of the film with Allerton.

Burroughs never included such a scene in his works despite his proclivity for representing his own life in them, admitting in the appendix of Queer that “The book is motivated and formed by an event which is never mentioned, in fact is carefully avoided,” though adaptations (including Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch) have rightly identified this event as essential to the author’s character. In 1951, Burroughs accidentally killed his wife, Joan Vollmer, in this manner, and he later wrote,

“I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I never would have become a writer but for Joan’s death.” 

Perhaps the moment that differs the most from book to screen is the ending. In the film, Lee and Allerton take ayahuasca with Dr. Cotter and hallucinate together, vomiting out their hearts (literally) and performing a ritualistic dance, their bodies merging into one. In the book, Lee and Allerton reach a (male) Dr. Cotter, but, discouraged by his warning that it can take years to gain the confidence of the locals to attain the ayahuasca, leave without experiencing it. It’s understandable how this can seem a rather unsatisfying ending and such an abrupt conclusion may have been less well-received by a film audience. The ending is the only stark deviation from the novella, which, at just over a hundred pages long, is a more manageable task to adapt than many denser texts.

The one thing that I would change about the film is the extensive use of CGI in the backgrounds. Although set in Mexico City and South America, Guadagnino shot primarily on soundstages in Italy. While it may have been the most practical option, I found it distracting and unappealing. However, I loved the use of miniatures, and wish that fewer digital effects had been layered over them. Many of the buildings, the highway scene and the movie theatre scene utilized miniatures, which can be seen in this showreel. Simon Weisse, the supervisor for the film’s miniature unit, has notably collaborated with Wes Anderson on a number of films, including Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), Isle of Dogs (2018), and Asteroid City (2021). 

Altogether, I loved this adaptation of one of my favorite Burroughs’ works, and I plan to see it again – I anticipate that my reservations may be softened after a second viewing. Queer is available for rent or purchase on streaming services in the US as of January 14th, and is still showing in some UK cinemas.

-Liam