From Call Me by Your Name to Challengers, director Luca Guadagnino has demonstrated an enduring fascination with human connection, particularly in its most precarious forms. His latest effort, Queer, is no exception. Based on the unfinished novel by William S. Burroughs, Guadagnino dives into the turmoil and romance of two American expatriates against the atmospheric backdrop of midcentury Mexico City. This adaptation, starring Daniel Craig as Burroughs’ fictional alter ego William Lee and Drew Starkey as Eugene Allerton, brings to life the complex and cosmic romance of two men who find themselves orbiting one another, despite the forces—internal and external—pulling them apart.
Set primarily in the early 1950s, Queer explores the poignant, almost surreal experience of William Lee, a man longing for connection in a world that seems to discourage it. The film’s journey through self-imposed exile, an era marked by societal repression, and an individual yearning for love is rendered with visual splendour and emotional gravitas. Guadagnino, with his signature artistic sensitivity, transforms Burroughs’ sparse and vulnerable narrative into a lush cinematic exploration of love and solitude.
A Burroughs Story, Reimagined
William S. Burroughs, one of the seminal figures of the Beat Generation, originally wrote Queer as a deeply personal exploration of desire and displacement during his time in Mexico City. Guadagnino, an avid reader of Burroughs since his teenage years, has always been intrigued by the novel’s potential for the screen, particularly the way it marries longing with dissonance. Queer is often considered Burroughs’ most accessible work, yet it contains all the hallmarks of his trademark literary style—a combination of brutal honesty, detachment, and emotional vulnerability. This was a story Guadagnino had been dreaming of telling for over two decades.
Daniel Craig, in the role of William Lee, steps into Burroughs’ shoes—or perhaps more accurately, his three-piece suit—and finds himself stripped of the swagger we might recognise from his previous roles. Instead, Craig offers a deeply introspective performance, embodying a character weighed down by the emotional baggage of addiction, regret, and a yearning for intimacy. Drew Starkey, who plays the enigmatic Eugene Allerton, provides an understated but potent counterbalance. Allerton, a former soldier, arrives in Mexico City new to its American expatriate community and, in William, finds something both compelling and dangerous. The chemistry between Craig and Starkey is nothing short of electrifying, oscillating between awkward tenderness and visceral intensity.
The novel, written during Burroughs’ time in Mexico City, is imbued with the ghost of Joan Vollmer, Burroughs’ wife, who he accidentally shot during a drunken game of William Tell. This tragic and unresolved incident shaped Burroughs’ work—including *Queer*—with a sense of guilt and regret that Guadagnino chooses to embrace rather than shy away from. The movie treats this history not as a mere footnote, but as a shadow looming over William’s interactions with Eugene, lending a haunting sense of inevitability to the story. The lingering presence of Vollmer adds to the narrative’s emotional stakes, giving a melancholic edge to William’s pursuit of Eugene, as if he is forever trying to fill an emotional void.
(L-R) Daniel Craig, Drew Starkey – Credit: By Yannis Drakoulidis. Courtesy of A24.
Crafting A Romance Amid Despair
One of the most striking elements of Queer is its portrayal of the emotional dance between Lee and Allerton. Their love story is not a typical one—there’s little in the way of grand gestures or obvious resolutions. Instead, Guadagnino opts for a more nuanced approach, highlighting the emotional dissonance between the two men. Lee is desperate, clinging to the hope that his affection for Allerton might be reciprocated, while Allerton remains coy and distant, seemingly content to indulge Lee’s advances only to pull away again.
Craig embodies Lee as a man on the edge—edgy, desperate, and deeply vulnerable. There’s a rawness to Craig’s performance that feels almost painfully intimate. He captures the tragedy of unrequited love with aching precision, making Lee’s predicament resonate even in its most uncomfortable moments. Starkey’s Eugene, meanwhile, is an alluring enigma—charming yet detached, always keeping Lee at an emotional arm’s length. Together, their scenes are charged with a kind of electricity that feels both dangerous and fragile, making the audience wonder when, or if, the connection between them might finally snap.
Guadagnino’s direction brings out the best in both actors. He places their relationship at the film’s emotional core, allowing the camera to linger on moments of silence and hesitation. The two actors worked closely with renowned choreographers Sol Léon and Paul Lightfoot to bring an almost dance-like quality to their interactions—a sequence after an ayahuasca trip, in particular, sees them moving in a way that feels ethereal and otherworldly, encapsulating the sense of connection and disconnection that underpins their relationship.
Cinecittà Reimagined: A Mexico City Built on Memory
Interestingly, Queer was not shot on location in Mexico City, but primarily at the iconic Cinecittà Studios in Rome. This choice speaks to Guadagnino’s desire to create a version of Mexico City that is filtered through the lens of Burroughs’ fragmented, and often hallucinatory, memory. The set designs, helmed by production designer Stefano Baisi, reflect this idea of a reconstructed reality—vivid, textured, yet with an unmistakable sense of artifice that blurs the line between dream and memory.
The production design plays a significant role in grounding the film in its particular atmosphere. The streets of Mexico City, as envisioned by Baisi, are neon-lit and bustling, but with a heightened, almost surreal quality. Guadagnino wanted the setting to feel like a projection of Burroughs’ own fantasies, and this is achieved through a meticulous recreation of mid-century Latin American aesthetics, complete with colonial-era buildings and Art Deco interiors. The result is an uncanny version of the city—a place that feels both real and imagined, tangible yet somehow detached from time.
Cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s work on Queer is equally mesmerising. Known for his observational and almost meditative approach to filmmaking, Mukdeeprom captures the essence of a city steeped in shadow, heat, and colour. There is an emphasis on natural light, giving the film an earthy, sun-soaked palette during the daytime scenes, while the nights are alive with bold, saturated hues. It’s a visual style reminiscent of Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love—sensuous, evocative, and deeply romantic.
(L-R) Daniel Craig, Drew Starkey – Credit: By Yannis Drakoulidis. Courtesy of A24.
From Punk Icon to Romantic Hero
One of the more interesting elements of *Queer* lies in its portrayal of William Burroughs himself. Guadagnino and Craig both aimed to strip away the hardened, cynical persona often associated with Burroughs to reveal a more tender, hopeful side. Craig’s Lee is a man driven by love, not simply by his addiction or nihilistic tendencies. He is vulnerable in his pursuit of Eugene, and while he may still be grappling with demons—both past and present—the film chooses to focus on his humanity rather than his notoriety.
Burroughs has often been seen as an anti-hero of sorts—a figure of rebellion and subversion, admired by the likes of David Bowie, Patti Smith, and Kurt Cobain. Guadagnino acknowledges this but reframes Burroughs’ character through the lens of romance. In Queer, we see a William Lee that’s far from the cantankerous figure Burroughs presented in interviews. Instead, he’s a character yearning for connection—an archetypal romantic, albeit one burdened with more baggage than most.
It’s a bold move by Guadagnino to turn Burroughs into a romantic protagonist. This is perhaps the most significant departure from the original text, which often emphasises William’s detachment and cynicism. But in making Lee a character capable of profound love, Guadagnino adds an emotional layer to the story that elevates it beyond the standard adaptation of literary work. He allows the audience to empathise deeply with Lee, transforming his pursuit of Eugene into a universally relatable experience of longing and heartbreak.
Soundtrack and Costuming: Layers of Emotion
No Luca Guadagnino film would be complete without an evocative soundtrack, and *Queer* is no exception. Collaborating with composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, the score adds a haunting and ethereal quality to the film’s mood. The music swells and ebbs like the tide of William and Eugene’s relationship—sometimes lush and orchestral, other times minimalist and uneasy, reflecting the underlying tension in their interactions. Guadagnino also layers in tracks from Nirvana, a nod to Burroughs’ influence on the punk and grunge movements, as well as further solidifying the timeless, cross-generational resonance of Burroughs’ legacy.
Jonathan Anderson, creative director of Loewe, takes on the role of costume designer, dressing the characters in a way that reflects their emotional states as well as their roles within the expatriate community. Craig’s Lee is always buttoned-up, wearing his suits almost like armour—protection against vulnerability. Allerton, meanwhile, is dressed in a more relaxed, utilitarian manner, his attire reflecting his transient nature and ambiguous motivations. Anderson’s designs play with the idea of disembodiment, particularly through Allerton’s use of accessories like sunglasses, which add an extra layer of mystery and emotional distance to his character.
A Timeless Story for a New Generation
Queer is not merely a period piece; it’s a film that speaks to contemporary audiences about the timeless experience of yearning for human connection. In today’s increasingly digital world, where intimacy often feels out of reach, Queer reminds us of the power—and the risk—of vulnerability. Guadagnino describes Queer as a love story for today’s youth, and that description feels apt. The film’s exploration of loneliness, rejection, and the courage it takes to love deeply is as relevant today as it was when Burroughs penned his novel over half a century ago.
The tragedy at the heart of Queer is the imbalance of desire—Lee’s all-consuming love for Allerton is never fully reciprocated, leaving him in a state of perpetual longing. It’s a narrative that reflects the very real struggle of finding someone who sees you as you wish to be seen—a struggle that transcends time, place, and even identity. Guadagnino and Craig manage to communicate this beautifully, with Craig delivering a performance that’s equal parts heartbreak and hope, and Starkey providing just enough ambiguity to keep the audience on edge.
A Daring Adaptation
In Queer, Luca Guadagnino has crafted a love story that’s as tumultuous as it is tender. It’s a film that doesn’t shy away from the complexities of human relationships, nor does it try to simplify them. Instead, it presents love as something cosmic, precarious, and ultimately worth the risk. By choosing to adapt Burroughs’ most personal work, Guadagnino offers a fresh perspective on an iconic literary figure, stripping away the mythology to reveal the man underneath—a man searching, like the rest of us, for connection.
With evocative performances from Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey, stunning cinematography by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, and a haunting score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, Queer stands out as a uniquely powerful piece of cinema. It’s a film that lingers, much like the ache of an unfulfilled desire, long after the credits have rolled—a fitting tribute to the work of a writer who spent his life searching for a deeper understanding of love, longing, and the human condition.
