Queer

Filmmaking that calls for its audiences to study up on its source material (not to mention the life of the creator of that source material) before screening it is, in my opinion, irresponsible, placing an undue burden on viewers in advance. Indeed, if a picture is unable to stand on its own to be at least modestly comprehensible on its face, then that’s a production with an innate handicap from the outset. Such is the case with director Luca Guadagnino’s film adaptation of author William S. Burroughs’s 1985 semi-autobiographical novella, a glacially paced, meandering, pretentious, often-inscrutable work of smug cinematic nonsense. The film tells the story of William Lee (Daniel Craig), a gay, well-heeled American expat living in Mexico in 1950. He spends much of his time as a barfly in search of fulfilling incessant hedonistic appetites, particularly his pursuit of a young former GI, Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey), a handsome but ambivalent, noncommittal flirt whose sexual orientation is unclear at best. However, once Lee finally manages to catch the eye of his romantic prospect, the two launch into an on-again/off-again relationship in which they vie for control of the direction it will ultimately take. This rocky odyssey takes them from Mexico to Ecuador and eventually to the South American jungle, where they go in search of the plants used to make ayahuasca. And, in the process, the story becomes an increasingly unfocused, preposterous collection of quasi-psychedelic imagery and surrealistic sequences that make little coherent sense. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, that the narrative becomes laughable, making the filmmaker’s earlier pictures “Call Me By Your Name” (2017) and “Suspiria” (2018) look like pillars of sparkling eloquence by comparison. The fault here lies in a dreadful script full of holes and unexplained developments borne out of lapses in coherence. To its credit, the film’s gorgeous and sometimes-inventive cinematography is admirable, backed by a fine production design and unexpectedly suitable soundtrack. The picture also features Craig’s best screen performance to date, one that shows off the depth of his talent and has earned him numerous accolades, despite the abysmal quality of the material he’s been handed to work with. And it provides a fitting vehicle for a surprisingly effective comedic turn by Jason Schwartzman. At the same time, though, the casting is hampered by Starkey’s sleepwalking portrayal, one that’s about as appetizing as a bowl of reheated canned soup, and a positively embarrassing performance by the usually-reliable Lesley Manville. Without a doubt, movies based on material written by Burroughs are undeniably an acquired taste, but this latest offering drawn from his repertoire represents a serious lack of cognizance, engagement and enlightenment. By all means, please skip this one.