Just How Queer Is Luca Guadagnino’s Queer Anyway?

by

As a long-time admirer of William S. Burroughs and his groundbreaking work, I found Guadagnino’s “Queer” to be a beautifully designed film that served as both a tribute to an adaptation of a different Burroughs book and a poignant exploration of transactional relationships within the gay community. The film stirred a range of emotions in me – from weeping for James, Burroughs, and Joan, to questioning notions of intent and integrity in such relationships.

As a devoted fan of the story behind “Queer”, both the novel itself and the intriguing circumstances surrounding its creation, I must admit I felt a pang of apprehension upon hearing about Luca Guadagnino’s $53 million adaptation of this unfinished autobiographical work. It wasn’t solely the atypical casting of Daniel Craig as William Burroughs’ character, William Lee, or the striking portrayal of Drew Starkey as the enigmatic, younger love interest, Eugene Allerton, who graced the screen in exquisite knitwear designed by none other than Jonathan Anderson, a friend of Guadagnino and the film’s costume designer. No, it was much more than that: the idea of Guadagnino, with his vibrant colors and breathtaking aesthetic, directing a Burroughs adaptation, seemed incongruous to me – a stark contrast to my mental image of how this book should be visually represented on screen.

In an unconventional sense, Burroughs and I were like family. Our paths crossed one summer morning in 1981, a time when nature called and I had to relieve myself. Leaving the bedroom where I’d spent the previous night in his Bowery loft, often referred to as “The Bunker,” shared with James Grauerholz, Burroughs’ amanuensis. It was James and I who fell in love; Burroughs was departing New York for a more tranquil life in Lawrence, Kansas, where James resided. Inspired by this connection, I abandoned my combined B.A./J.D. studies to join them later that year. I stayed with them for two years before returning to New York for a career in book publishing. Burroughs continued to be an integral part of both my personal and professional life until his passing in 1997. To this day, James and I maintain a close bond.

In the novel “Queer,” the main character, William Lee, is struggling with addiction while residing in Mexico City. Interestingly enough, the author of “Queer,” also named William Burroughs, was living the same chaotic life at the time he wrote it. The writing process for “Queer” started shortly after Burroughs accidentally shot and killed his wife, Joan, during a party in Mexico City in 1951. They were playing a game of “William Tell” involving a gun and a shot glass on her head. When the book was eventually published in 1985, Burroughs admitted in its introduction that he would not have become a writer without Joan’s death, as it had a profound impact on his writing. He wrote, “I am forced to the appalling conclusion that I would never have become a writer but for Joan’s death… So, the death of Joan brought me in contact with the invader, the Ugly Spirit, and maneuvered me into a lifelong struggle, in which I have had no choice except to write my way out.” Reading this passage made me cry.

In a conversation I had following my watch of Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name, I discovered that the Ugly Spirit or anything particularly ugly is given minimal screen time in the movie, unlike the source novel. However, it stays true to the book’s narrative structure and plotline. The filmmaking skills displayed are exceptional across various aspects. Yet, it isn’t the book I was familiar with from its author. Instead, it exudes a chic style, presenting a distinct visual aesthetic that is visually stunning as a whole. Essentially, it can be categorized as a movie showcasing various gay locales. It carries an air of romance, resembling a travel guide in a sense – the locations and fashion may entice you to visit, dine at the restaurants, and even wear similar clothing, perhaps in the company of some of the impeccably cast actors. However, it does not depict the world that most readers imagine from the book, not for me either. This is purely the director’s vision – as every film should be.

Still, a bad match of director and material renders confusion at best, emptiness at worst; I worried that this film could potentially misconstrue the importance of Burroughs’s role as a visionary queer writer for future generations.

In our recent 20-minute Zoom call with Guadagnino and Anderson, I found it challenging to clarify this point; it could’ve even derailed the conversation. However, I gave it my best shot.

Despite relocating back to New York, my trips to Kansas persisted, eventually transitioning into business-related visits. Over the years, I managed Burroughs’ public relations, published his works in two publishing houses where I served as an editor, and collaborated on numerous projects with him. When James phoned me on August 2, 1997 to inform me of Burroughs’ passing, I returned to assist in arranging the funeral.

In 1959, the publication of William S. Burroughs’ groundbreaking work, Naked Lunch, by Maurice Girodias’s Olympia Press in Paris ignited his career. Later, Barney Rosset’s Grove Press in New York picked it up in 1962. The book was prohibited under obscenity laws in Boston and Los Angeles. Notable figures like Allen Ginsberg and Norman Mailer testified during the Boston trial, turning it into a significant cultural event. Despite the initial bans, both cases ultimately failed, drawing more attention to Burroughs’ unique, somber perspective of reality.

Prior to “Naked Lunch,” another book called “Junky” by Burroughs was published. This book, along with an unfinished work titled “Queer,” were arranged for publication by Ginsberg through Ace, a publisher primarily reaching its market through drugstore racks in America. These two books were intended to be released together. “Junky” can be seen as a gritty, hard-hitting counterpart to Jim Thompson’s “The Grifters.” In contrast, “Queer,” which was never finished, centered around a story of intense homosexual love and foreshadowed Burroughs’ future work with its dark, visionary, and often controversial themes. The distinctive elements in “Queer” that would later become known as “routines” were the reason Ace rejected the manuscript. Under the pseudonym William Lee, “Junky” was published in 1952 as a mass-market edition, thereby avoiding critical attention. Burroughs abandoned “Queer” and moved to Tangier instead.

For approximately three decades, the box had been moved around haphazardly. In 1973, Burroughs found himself in financial distress and sold part of his collection to a financier based in Liechtenstein, who was known for amassing such items, possibly as an investor. The box ended up in Vaduz.

In 1983, it underwent a rather intricate transaction that included a Shaker Heights collector of manuscripts, a librarian at Ohio State University’s special collections, Burroughs (represented by the deal’s creators), James who was associated with Bradford Morrow, a renowned novelist and founder of the literary journal “Conjunctions”, who was also dealing in rare books and manuscripts at that time, and a financier from Vaduz. I was consistently receiving updates about it from James.

At approximately the same period, Ginsberg advised Burroughs to switch agents from his current one to Andrew Wylie, who had recently launched a literary agency. Burroughs followed this advice and Wylie made Queer the centerpiece of a multi-book deal that marked a new direction for Burroughs in publishing. Later, El Hombre Invisible would receive recognition from the Establishment with an induction into the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1983, and the following year he was honored with the Chevalier d’Ordre Arts et des Lettres in France. The literary world’s recognition of Burroughs’ genius was a satisfying “up yours” moment for everyone.

The Queer manuscript was totemic, and when it was published in 1985, it closed a wound with Burroughs having reckoned with Joan’s death.

During the Zoom meeting organized by the movie’s public relations team, I found myself with numerous questions. Primarily, I wanted to understand why the director chose this specific project. At the film’s debut in Venice, Guadagnino disclosed, “I am a man who retires early, have never taken drugs or smoked cigarettes… I can only count on two hands the number of romantic relationships I’ve had.” This revelation came as a shock to me, given his admission that he read Queer at an early stage and that “the moment I entered Burroughs’ world, I was transformed.

However, I must admit that it wasn’t entirely clear to me how things unfolded. Yet, I was delighted to discover that he had penned a spec screenplay for the book two decades ago and had been persistently pursuing the rights since then. As he was working on Challengers, the rights – which had been optioned for years by Steve Buscemi, who intended to embody Burroughs in the gritty, destitute role of William Lee, with a screenplay by Oren Moverman – suddenly became free. (I have always cherished the thought of Buscemi bringing Burroughs’ character to life in that sweaty, downtrodden role.)

Guadagnino made me recall that as we grow up, it’s our choice what influences us, and he was talking about his initial encounter with Burroughs for the first time. “When you immerse yourself in Burroughs’ language, at 17 years old, you realize there are countless ways to express ourselves, complex, sophisticated methods that don’t require conforming to a logic that has already been set.

After reaching his main point, he discussed the portrayal of love in the movie. He perceived a genuine relationship between Burroughs and Lewis Marker, who inspired the character Eugene Allerton. I interpreted this as transactional sex, but that’s not necessarily a negative aspect. Allerton can be viewed as a shrewd hustler, a confused individual, or just an intriguing fictional character. For Guadagnino, it goes beyond that, though it might seem overly dramatic. “This book is about connection. When you encounter someone with whom you feel a connection, regardless of the complexities that may arise, or cultural or emotional obstacles … the bond’s power is everlasting.

Guadagnino gave the novel to Justin Kuritzkes, a trusted collaborator, to write the screenplay; he wrote a marvelous and trippy ending for the unfinished novel that took Lee and Allerton to Quito, Ecuador, in search of yage, an ingredient in ayahuasca. Burroughs in fact traveled there in 1952; The Yage Letters chronicles his experiments in his letters to Ginsberg. He was obsessed with the idea that yage could enhance telepathy. In the hallucinatory new scenes, the connection between Lee and Allerton goes to places the earthbound book could never take it.

When Guadagnino has control over his own screenplay, it’s simply fantastic – a welcome change after previous director-material disagreements. Yet, there’s a puzzling aspect to it. That seems to be the most “Burroughsian” touch in this movie: the unexplained randomness and mind-bending absurdity of the climax. It strongly echoes “Naked Lunch,” both the novel and David Cronenberg’s 1991 film, which Guadagnino appears to have drawn inspiration from.

Guadagnino shared with me that he’s likely watched ‘Naked Lunch’ about 20 times. He first saw it when it debuted in 1991, and it was a groundbreaking experience for him. There seemed to be a part of him that identified with David Cronenberg’s interpretation of the novel as another intriguing, obsessive story by Cronenberg. Essentially, he viewed it as a Cronenberg production – a Cronenberg film, a Cronenberg universe. And he expressed hope that their work didn’t ultimately become synonymous with Guadagnino.

In Guadagnino’s movie, I noticed similarities with Cronenberg’s “Naked Lunch” during the first intimate scene where Lee, portrayed by Omar Apollo, donning a centipede amulet, reminiscent of Cronenberg’s work, appears. This was not the discussion I anticipated when talking to Guadagnino, but it’s unavoidable. I inquired about the amulet. Guadagnino responded, “I don’t believe that centipede is there due to its connection with Cronenberg’s work. Instead, I think it’s more related to Burroughs’s.” He explained, “It serves as a symbol, like a metaphorical signpost, warning of the dangers of repression in both Lee and Allerton.” I pondered if the centipede might become a merchandise item for Guadagnino’s Queer line designed by JW Anderson. I could imagine myself purchasing one, but the cost of those David Wojnarowicz sweaters is exorbitant. Perhaps not. The intersection of fashion and fringe culture can lead to disagreements, something I’ve witnessed before, and am now more aware of — but a centipede necklace would be fantastic.

The typewriters, reminiscent of those found in “Naked Lunch”, are also present. Additionally, the peculiar visual effects during the ayahuasca chapter are akin to Cronenberg’s style. The movie replicates the Duc de Ventre scene, initially written for “Queer” but first published in “Naked Lunch”. This scene, which evokes disgust and fear, is also featured in the Cronenberg film adaptation. Guadagnino shared that it was intriguing for him and Justin Kuritzkes to reenact this scene in relation to the same scene in “Naked Lunch” because, in a way, they were always connected to what had come before. Guadagnino also mentioned having a physical connection with Cronenberg’s cinema, as he grew up immersed in his world and found another artist, besides Burroughs, who significantly influenced his identity.

He talked about his relationship to Cronenberg’s The Fly, which feels foundational for him. He hit a kind of pay dirt of inspiration with this adaptation — he got to play with both Cronenberg and Burroughs. This kind of inspiration/homage, in the postmodern age, should render a piece of art on its own terms. The problem is that when rendering a clone, it tends to turn out as a genetically imperfect creature, a mix of influences (part-fly, part-human, for example) that you didn’t entirely intend.

Cronenberg’s “Naked Lunch” wasn’t just about that specific book, but rather a tribute to all of Burroughs’ works. So, Guadagnino might have been trying to recreate Cronenberg’s version of Burroughs, but using a partially finished and legendary novel by Burroughs as the basis – until it was published in 1985. This perspective helped me understand the film better. However, even 39 years later, this stylish new movie feels somewhat lukewarm. It seems to be more of a tribute to an adaptation of another Burroughs book, but less connected to the original text than its inspiration. Something is missing, and that’s why I didn’t feel the authentic spirit of Burroughs in this film.

But still, I wept through scenes of Guadagnino’s film — including a hallucinatory reference to Joan’s death in which Lee does the same failed William Tell routine with Allerton — but it wasn’t for Joan or Burroughs; it was for James’s lover Michael Emerton, who  killed himself with a   gun. I wept as this beautifully designed movie, with gorgeous men in well-cut suits, gave me time to think about the karmic connections that both blessed and cursed me. I wept for Billy Jr., whose mother Burroughs had killed. Then I wept for Burroughs, and I wept for Joan.

I wept for the portrayal of transactional sex that was the “romance” the director referred to. I wept as I questioned notions of intent and integrity in transactional relationships: mine with younger, troubled men who lived on the fringes of gay culture; Burroughs’s with James; and James’s with me. Those relationships, for better or worse, follow the karmic path laid down for me 40-plus years ago. That karma, at least for me, as I flew through the past making sense of it, was neutralized by the acceptance of its very existence, its painful impact on me and those affected by it, and, finally, by releasing it. That was Guadagnino’s gift to me.

Most significantly, I shed tears for James, a man living independently but immobilized due to a brain injury from a hate crime, worsened by falls at home and subsequent concussions. However, there’s been some encouraging news for him; his double album as a singer-songwriter is set to be released on Lotuspool Records. And he shared with me that he appreciated Guadagnino’s Queer, albeit with reservations about the casting and appearance of Allerton, which makes it even more heartening to hear. This pleases Guadagnino as well.

Living with James and Burroughs led me down an unforeseen journey. Though there were challenges, it’s been incredibly rewarding because I found my purpose in giving a platform to those often overlooked within society. Interestingly, this goal wasn’t achieved through a legal career but rather one focused on helping writers amplify voices from the fringes. For me, Kathy Acker, William Burroughs, and Dennis Cooper represent key milestones. Among many others, I also worked with David Wojnarowicz, Diamanda Galas, Sapphire, and June Jordan.

During my Zoom conversation with Guadagnino and Anderson, I pondered about legacy in the art world. I questioned whether we artists or art workers have obligations towards our elders, those pioneering spirits who broke down barriers? I brought up the wealthy gay men, often married heterosexually, who hire surrogates and purchase eggs to ensure their offspring carry their genes – something I view as entirely contrary to queer ideals. In response, they referenced certain symbols. Anderson discussed the aesthetic of the film, pointing out George Platt Lynes’ influence; both agreed on Powell and Pressburger (the Archers), particularly their work “The Red Shoes“; I also mentioned Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s adaptation of Jean Genet’s “Querelle“, which Guadagnino acknowledged as a significant influence. However, the essence of my point seemed to have been overlooked, and time was running out. Unsatisfied, I moved on.

Will this movie stir a profound impact in younger viewers, regardless of their sexual orientation? That’s what Burroughs achieved for me and countless others. But will the film Queer significantly influence the lives of queer individuals in future generations? If it saves even one person, then its purpose has been fulfilled.

Read More

2024-11-27 20:56