Queer is more than just another adaptation for Italian director Luca Guadagnino. It is the fulfillment of a lifelong artistic project. As a teenager growing up in Palermo, Sicily, he first encountered William S. Burroughs’ 1985 novella and felt a compelling connection to its themes of alienation, longing, and fragility. The book made such a profound impression on him that it sparked a dream. One day, he would bring it to the screen.

From the sun-drenched romance of Call Me By Your Name (2017) to the brilliant reimagining of Suspiria (2018), the haunting Bones and All (2022), and the sensual court game of Challengers (2024), Guadagnino finally returns to the story that shaped the early days of his filmmaking journey. Queer reveals Burroughs’ “truly romantic character who was yearning for love,” as Guadagnino defined it in the film’s press notes. The film premiered at the 81st Venice International Film Festival and explores the longing for human connection and recognition, mainly through the queer experience of unrequited desire.

• Adapting Burroughs’ Unfinished Work
• An Intoxicating Bond
• Under His Skin
• The Artifice of Masculinity
• A Visual Journey
• Soundscapes of Desire

Adapting Burroughs’ Unfinished Work

Guadagnino first began adapting Queer from Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical story when he was 21. Still, with screenwriter Justin Kuritzkes, he found a common purpose, joining forces to create a film that drifts endlessly between reality and hallucination.

Burroughs’ unfinished work, written between 1951 and 1953 but not published until 1985, presented the challenge of crafting an appropriate ending for a book that was so pivotal to the counterculture of the Beat Generation. The film honors its literary roots and unfolds in three chapters and an epilogue, punctuating its feverish odyssey with a sense of alienation.

An Intoxicating Bond

Mexico City in the 1950s feels frighteningly lonely for people like William Lee (Daniel Craig), an American expatriate in his late forties who left the States to escape legal trouble and feed his heroin habit. Always holding a gun in one hand and his heart in the other, Lee tries to fight his desperate loneliness by forming meaningless bonds with the regulars in bars that feel like non-places, out of touch with reality. “Ship Ahoy” and “Lola” bars become temporary havens for outcasts, where fleeting connections only deepen the weighty sense of isolation.

Lee invents frantic, attention-grabbing routines, as he calls them, entertaining but often tiresome performances aimed at an audience he desperately needs to satisfy his longing for connection and recognition. Sometimes, this audience includes his companions, Joe Guidry (Jason Schwartzman) – who, not surprisingly, is so reminiscent of Allen Ginsberg – and Tom Williams (Colin Bates).

Lee usually craves the scraps of love from strangers, mostly younger men, but something changes in him when he meets the quiet and reserved Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey). Allerton has a boyish, almost androgynous look and carries himself with a cold indifference that makes him unapproachable and evasive but only adds to his charm. The two soon form an unspoken bond, and it’s not long before Lee casts Allerton as his muse – a role in which he seems somewhat ill at ease.

When Lee talked, he seemed to mean more than what he said. A special emphasis to a word or a greeting hinted at a period of familiarity in some other time and place. As though Lee were saying, “You know what I mean. You remember.”

_{Queer by William S. Burroughs}

As their relationship evolves, it becomes an ambiguous exploration of sexuality, desire, and power, blurring the lines between love and obsession. The result is a growing tension that draws both men into a game of chase, with a homoerotic attraction that is unspoken but undeniably palpable.

Under His Skin

The film moves slower as Lee and Allerton embark on their journey to the jungles of Ecuador in the hopes of finding yagé or ayahuasca. This plant is said to help establish a telepathic connection between two people. At this point, the original novel and its adaptation diverge, leaving room for artistic creation. Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom have crafted a raw yet intimate scene in which the two lovers surrender to each other, their bodies intertwined as they become one. Hallucinating from ayahuasca, Lee is finally able to read Allerton’s mind and faces the painful realization of his unrequited love. “I’m not queer; I’m disembodied” is only half the truth because when words become too hard to speak aloud, it’s easier to bury them in silence, where they linger like ghosts and fester like wounds.

The murky relationship between Lee and Allerton is bound to remain an enigma, a tale of misplaced affection that exposes the price of coming to terms with sexuality. Queer captures the beauty of queerness while embracing its contradictions and struggles. Embracing one’s identity and exploring repressed desires is no easy task, and the film investigates this turbulent journey, torn between desire and denial, longing and self-acceptance.

Like Queer, Andrew Haigh‘s All of Us Strangers (2023) is a literary adaptation that dissolves the boundaries between reality and imagination. This time, however, the two protagonists (played by Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal) are ideally in tune with each other, building their relationship on emotional honesty and open communication, which is not the case with Lee and Allerton. Nonetheless, the two films share a strong sensibility to queer loneliness and the desperate quest for unconditional love.

The Artifice of Masculinity

Beneath the armor of an overconfident alcoholic lies the soul of a fragile man wearing a mask to hide, in Burroughs’ words, a shocking disintegration. Guadagnino initially puzzled audiences with his decision to cast Daniel Craig as Lee, but the latter’s astonishing and disarming performance dispelled all doubts. In Queer, Craig finally sheds the long-worn armor of the hyper-masculine 007 agent, revealing a more vulnerable and nuanced side to his acting. Hailed by critics as the best performance of his career, the star received a nine-minute standing ovation at the film’s world premiere. As proof, Craig won the National Board of Review Award for Best Actor and earned Golden Globe, Critics’ Choice, and Screen Actors Guild Award nominations for his interpretation.

“I’m fascinated by the artifice of masculinity. The way in is to think about the way men are perceived and how they can present themselves,” says Craig, reflecting on the evolution of his characters, from Bond to Lee. Craig fully embodies Burroughs’ alter ego, effortlessly balancing Lee’s abrasive personality with his raw vulnerability. Through subtle gestures, a quivering voice, a nervous grin, or a longing look, Craig delivers a performance so raw and exquisitely broken that it lingers long after the credits roll. Condemned by his nature, Lee becomes an antihero in self-imposed exile in Mexico, surrendering to the effects of drugs and alcohol to numb the frustration of his unfulfilled desire. Double exposure and layered imagery reflect his inner struggle to live authentically. He touches Allerton with “phantom hands,” longing for a tender connection that might bring him liberation.

Both defying rigid notions of masculinity, Lee and Allerton move along parallel yet converging paths in exploring queerness. Guadagnino described their relationship as an unsynchronized love story in which the depths of their identities remain slightly misaligned, caught in a constant struggle between intimacy and rejection.

A Visual Journey

Aiming to create a film that feels like a lucid dream, Guadagnino brought gritty South America to Cinecittà with the essential collaboration of production designer Stefano Biasi. Guadagnino approached the production as if tapping into Burroughs’ fantasies, allowing his imagination to lead. He went so far as to import authentic vegetation from South America and even created a river in the Cinecittà studios for a realistic effect. He also filmed some scenes near his hometown of Palermo, bringing his journey full circle with his initial discovery of the novel.

Playing with distorted images, CGI effects, miniatures, and painted backgrounds, Queer creates a hallucinatory experience. The film features vivid, saturated colors reminiscent of Wong Kar-wai‘s In the Mood for Love, which also explores the theme of impossible love. These techniques become increasingly apparent during Lee’s withdrawal-induced visions, which seem to open Pandora’s box and reveal the depths of his subconscious.

Furthermore, Queer heavily relies on symbolism, and it is better to understand it beforehand to grasp the meaning of the film entirely. The recurring motif of the centipede represents the theme of repression, reflecting the characters’ difficulties in fully embodying their sexuality. On the other hand, the image of the ouroboros – a snake biting its tail to form a symbol of infinity – traditionally represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. In this film, it reflects both Lee’s indulgence in self-destructive behavior and his relentless grasp on life. Queer is ultimately a tragic love story, where Lee is willing to go to the ends of the earth for love, only to be rejected, yet he carries on, bearing the weight of his heartbreak.

Soundscapes of Desire

Music always feels like a living character in Guadagnino’s cinematic universe, adding another layer to his rich storytelling. The same is true for Queer, where his ongoing collaboration with Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor lends a hazy atmosphere to each chapter of the film. The soundtrack enters a dialogue with the characters, guiding Lee on his metaphorical journey into the underworld and himself.

Along with the instrumentals, Guadagnino carefully curated the soundtrack for Queer to pay homage to Burroughs’ countercultural legacy and to enhance the grunge atmosphere. For starters, Sinéad O’Connor‘s melancholy cover of Nirvana‘s All Apologies serves as the overture, immediately setting the tone for the story. Later, the film cues up another Nirvana track: the timeless Come As You Are envelops Lee as he wanders the grimy streets of Mexico City late at night, subtly echoing Bill’s nocturnal wanderings in Stanley Kubrick‘s Eyes Wide Shut (1999). With its appeal to authenticity and self-acceptance, the song helps audiences connect with the characters who inhabit the world of Queer, flawed and contradictory, yet profoundly human.

“How can a man who sees and feels be other than sad?”. These are Burroughs’ own words, borrowed to create an experimental piece for the closing credits, reminding each of us that to look within is to reconcile with our shadows. Queer is a powerful meditation on what it means to truly live and love, no matter how messy and painful it may be. It is a call to embrace queerness in all its complex, challenging, and beautiful forms, urging us always to wear our hearts on our sleeves with pride.