Tag Archives: Daniel Craig

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.

COMMENTSQueer 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

LOVE IS THE DEVIL: STUDY FOR A PORTRAIT OF FRANCIS BACON (1998)

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Films about painters are usually recipes for disaster, primarily because the filmmakers are fans and slap a halo around the object of their adulation. Painters-as-film-subjects have generally fared better than composers-as-film-subjects (while we’re on the subject—we’re still waiting for ‘s long-promised Leonard Bernstein biopic). We can point to successes like Carol Reed’s treatment of Michelangelo, that cast Charlton Heston as the gay dwarf who painted the Sistine chapel (The Agony and the Ecstasy). That outdoes Chopin melodramatically dying at the keyboard of “consumption” in 1945’s A Song To Remember, which whitewashed the composer’s mental and career decline, along with his protracted, agonizing death (possibly from syphilis).

Whether painter or composer, artists tend to have tunnel vision, making them unpleasant bedfellows. Of course, not all artists are guilty—only the good ones. The hacks are innocent, which is why they’re usually forgotten.

No need though to worry about John Maybury’s 1998 opus, Love is the Devil: Study For A Portrait of Francis Bacon, though. It delivers. It’s not merely in the top tier of artist biopics, it’s a remarkable film in itself.

First, an aside about the painter. Francis Bacon emerged as a defiantly figurative painter at a time when abstract expressionism was the fad. He was deemed something of a traitor by the self-professed avant-garde establishment. (If you’re unfamiliar with abstract expressionism, just go to a local McDonalds or J.C. Penny stores and you’ll see plenty of latter-day examples hanging up—but rest assured you’ll never see Bacon’s hideous angst-ridden souls there). Bacon stuck to his guns, becoming one of the most relevant painters of the late century; thankfully, he is unworthy of canonization.

Still from Love Is the Devil: Study for a Portrait of Francis Bacon (1998)The most striking visual aspect of Maybury’s film was a forced decision. Hypocritically, the Bacon estate was  aghast at the script’s unflattering portrait (based in part on Daniel Farson’s biography) of the artist-as-monster, and refused the director the right to use the artwork. Never mind that Bacon himself would have wanted it no other way. What did the estate want? A Hallmark card? The result is a once-in-a-lifetime improvised inspiration. Bacon’s work is never depicted. We only see him in working, which calls to mind Paul Gauguin’s advice to not concern oneself with the finished canvas, but rather concentrate on the act of painting. Cinematographer John Mathieson brilliantly makes up for the production restrictions by shooting the film as if it’s a Bacon canvas, composing it with the Continue reading LOVE IS THE DEVIL: STUDY FOR A PORTRAIT OF FRANCIS BACON (1998)