CAPSULE: QUEER (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , Drew Starkey, ,

PLOT: The arrival of an enigmatic young man in 1950s Mexico City disrupts William Lee’s dissolute routine with the promise of companionship.

COMMENTS: Queer begins with a character sketch in the opening credits. Static shots of a small apartment reveal a cheap mattress, and a series of things—the first being a scuttling centipede. There are rumpled blankets, pairs of glasses, cigarettes (both stubbed-out and fresh), books, a passport and visa, a camera, a ViewMaster, and an array of pistols. Seven of them, to be precise, all nicely arranged. By the end of the opening credits, you know the character pretty well, even if you’re unfamiliar both with the author William Lee facsimulates, and the book the movie is based upon.

William Lee is an obviously intelligent but woefully uncharismatic fellow approaching or already in middle age. He has difficulty keeping still, and the camera mimics his erratic physicality by cutting from micro-shot to micro-shot as the protagonist bumps through his alcohol-fueled days and nights. It’s hot, and we can feel it alongside the array of gringos who’ve set up a little gay community in a borough of Mexico City that seems comprised exclusively of cheap bars, cheaper apartments, and by-the-hour hotels. We are there, with Lee, and can feel him either about to crack from his own tension or melt away into a puddle of boozy-Beatnik soup.

Queer, the film, has two halves: the first is a (very) awkward romance of sorts, wherein Daniel Craig’s Lee clumsily attempts to woo a young cypher named Eugene. We never learn too much about the guy, which is apt, in that one of the few things we do learn concerns his involvement with army intelligence during World War Two—and the staggering amount of lies he was tasked with sifting through. The second half involves a desperate Lee seeking an ancient drug in the Ecuadorian jungle to overcome his communication deficits, having—despite his self-perceived lack of persuasive powers—convinced Eugene to be his semi-paid companion. Surrealistic touches season the goings-on: disorienting flares of television static; a giant Lee looking in on a tiny Lee through a mock-up of an apartment building within his apartment room; and even a jaunt to see Cocteau’s Orpheus.

Guadagnino confronts the challenge of translating an incomplete Burroughs novel for the screen, and acquits himself well. I’m inclined to be forgiving toward the movie, as adapting any of Burroughs’ word-bursts (be they novels, anecdotes, memoirs, or otherwise) into semi-coherent narratives requires making difficult choices. Craig is a delight as the author, Starkey maintains a tight balance of charm and impenetrability, and Guadagnino keeps the look and feel on course even as the subject matter becomes increasingly slippery. With unrequited love (but plenty of sex), gallons of sweat (despite chills from junk withdrawal), and a time-bending soundtrack, Queer is an pleasing experience, even as it often crossed my mind that a man this addled shouldn’t be carrying around any firearms—much less seven of them.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Kuritzkes and Guadagnino diverge from their source material in making Lee’s quest for psychedelic fulfillment successful. Queer has a vein of David Lynchian surrealism (RIP) that starts with the inky, oil-painting cinematography of the nocturnal Mexico City scenes and grows more pronounced in the third act, when Lesley Manville does a darkly hilarious turn as a botanist living deep in the jungle. Without spoiling: Things get weird.”–Margot Harrison, Seven Days (VT)

Queer [Blu-ray]
  • Daniel Craig
  • Drew Starkey
  • Jason Schwartzman
  • Lesley Manville
  • Luca Guadagnino

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: ALUCARDA (1977)

AKA Alucarda, la hija de las tinieblas; Innocents From Hell

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Tina Romero, Susana Kamini, , David Silva

PLOT: When orphaned 17th-century teenager Justine is shipped off to a convent, she meets up with the similarly motherless Alucarda— who happens to be the spawn of the devil—and soon the pair are wreaking havoc amongst the clergy.

COMMENTS: In the recent papal political potboiler Conclave, ’ Cardinal Thomas Lawrence makes the case for the critically intertwined nature of faith and doubt. Certainty, he tells his fellow cardinals, is dangerous because it nudges us toward arrogance and intolerance. “Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand-in-hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery.”

One can scarcely imagine what Cardinal Lawrence would make of Alucarda, a film that hasn’t got a doubtful bone in its body. Given director Moctezuma’s history as an acolyte of Alejandro Jodorowsky, one might expect a certain amount of surrealism or mysticism, but this is a movie that fully believes in the devil and doesn’t find metaphor in a single damn thing. When a satyr cavorts with young girls, communion with Satan can be the only goal, and when you meet the story’s lone skeptic, a doctor who stakes out a position firmly in favor of science and reason, you can be sure that he will learn a harsh lesson in demonic possession and will drop his rational pose at a moment’s notice. Your sense of the film’s credulity is very dependent upon your willingness to believe that biblical evil lurks nearby awaiting its opportunity.

That amusingly unambiguous tone drives the film’s central performance, the teenaged, born-to-be-bad Alucarda herself, who exudes a nervous wild-eyed energy, desperate to win the favor of her potential new playmate Justine, and irrepressibly eager to start being naughty. (Romero, in her 30s, is an impressively convincing youth. Her counterpart, Kamini, is… not.) She’s like a toddler in her emotional purity, which gives her quest to upend the stodgy righteousness of the convent a potent charge. Unfortunately, that single-mindedness serves other characters less well, like the upright, uptight Father Lázaro (Silva, in his final role) who leads a round of self-flagellation to fend off bad thoughts, or the host of nuns whose performances must be reductively but accurately described as histrionic, writhing and shrieking in turn. The world of Alucarda is devoid of nuance, which is a time-saver, but makes the proceedings less engaging.

If there’s one word that sums up Alucarda, it’s “impatient.” Moctezuma aspires to the wildness of Argento or the eroticism of Rollin, but you get the meat of those filmmakers without any of the sauce. It’s mere minutes from Alucarda and Justine meeting a goat man to that same demon leading the two girls in a nude blood ritual, and a full orgy in the woods is just around the corner from that. Moctezuma is in such a hurry to get to the good stuff there that he dispenses with all of the build-up that makes the shock and gore so entertaining. Alucarda is a horror film without suspense, like frosting without cake or sex without foreplay.

As a delivery system for horror conventions, Alucarda is an impressively efficient machine, but that makes it more like a highlight reel or a series of clips on TikTok than like a real film. What it really needs is a little uncertainty, some sense of mystery to give it depth. As it is, Alucarda is like faith without doubt, which some among the religiously inclined might tell you is not faith at all.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“This movie is just plain weird… The story is really shallow (girl meets girl, girls worship Satan, everybody dies) and simplistic.” – Alec Pridgen, Mondo Bizarro

(This movie was nominated for review by arlecchinata. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

Alucarda
  • Factory sealed DVD

POD 366, EP. 122: IT’S DEAF CROCODILE RELEASE WEEK AGAIN

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Audio link (Spotify)

YouTube link

Discussed in this episode:

The Cathedral of New Emotions (2006): Read El Rob Hubbard’s review. Deaf Crocodile releases the psychedelic sci-fi with a clenched-fist spacecraft on Blu-ray. Buy The Cathedral of New Emotions.

Dream Hacker (2025): British low-budget sci-fi about a scientist who thinks she has found a way to influence others’ dreams, and experiments on herself. The lead character is named “Jennifer Connelly”–the actress of the same name is not in the movie. On VOD now. Buy or rent Dream Hacker.

“Elizabeth Taylor Collection”: Read Alfred Eaker’s review of Reflections in a Golden Eye. We mention this one solely for Golden Eye, but three other more mainstream Taylor flicks are compressed onto an unknown number of Blu-rays, if that’s how you get your jollies.  Buy “Elizabeth Taylor Collection.”

Freckled Max and the Spooks (1987): Read El Rob Hubbard’s review. Another Deaf Crocodile release—this one is a family-friendly monster mash movie from a celebrated Czech director. Buy Freckled Max and the Spooks.

Gwen and the Book of Sand (1985): A teenage girl and a 173-year-old nomad quest to save a kidnapped boy in the endless desert of the future. Lost post-apocalyptic French animation resurrected by the weirdos at… you guessed it, Deaf Crocodile. A 4K UHD+Blu-ray. Buy Gwen and the Book of Sand.

I Married a Strange Person (1997): Read Giles Edwards’ Apocrypha Candidate review! A new edition of the surreal classic from (you guessed it) Deaf Crocodile, with two restored Plympton shorts, a new Plympton interview, and a new commentary track (not by Plympton). Buy I Married a Strange Person.

“J-Horror Rising”: Read Simon Hyslop’s review of Noroi: The Curse. The rarities included in this Arrow box set are Shikoku, Isola: Multiple Personality Girl, Inugami, St. John’s Wort, Carved: The Slit-Mouthed Woman, Persona, and Noroi: The Curse (the only one we’ve previously heard of). Buy “J-Horror Rising”.

Messiah of Evil 3D (1973): Read Shane Wilson’s Apocrypha Candidate review. The outfit Eyepop-3D is turning a bunch of old movies into digital (and anaglyph) 3D movies; usually, they’ve been transferring public domain horror and sci-fi, but this strange, arty horror is an odd choice for the treatment. Buy Messiah of Evil 3D (1973) from Eyepop-3D.

Return of the Living Dead (1985): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. An ultimate collectors set of the weird-adjacent horror comedy from Shout! Factory, with 4K UHD and Blu-ray copies of the film, a second Blu-ray with a workprint of the film, and extra features scattered across all three discs, all wrapped up in the popular steelbook format. Buy Return of the Living Dead.

“Unrecorded Night” (202never): Details are emerging about what would have been ‘s last project, an extended series called “Unrecorded Night” (the in-development project codenamed “Wisteria”). Key takeaways: writing of the 550 page screenplay was completed by 2024; Netflix put the show’s production on hold during the pandemic, but claims they were ready to go ahead when Lynch’s health would allow it; says the family is leery about letting someone else direct it, but suggests they may publish the screenplay. Here’s an article from The Film Stage (with more links to follow) including the interview with Jennifer.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

No guest on next week’s Pod 366, unless you want to count Pete Trbovich, who plans on joining Giles Edwards and El Rob Hubbard to discuss the week’s news and new releases. Speaking of Pete, on the video side of the ledger he’ll be premiering the next episode of his “10 Weird Things” video curation series, this time compiling Being John Malkovich clips. Also on the YouTube front we’ll bring you a new look at ‘s Evolution from Russian correspondent Eugene Vasiliev (capably translated via AI). Strictly in print, Shane Wilson takes on another that Came from the Reader-Suggested Queue in the demonic Alucarda (1977), Giles Edwards gives you the straight story about Queer (2024), and Gregory J. Smalley takes on ‘s The Empire (2024). Onward and weirdward!

Celebrating the cinematically surreal, bizarre, cult, oddball, fantastique, strange, psychedelic, and the just plain WEIRD!