OPINION: More addicting than any chemical

This is my third or fourth draft of this column, mostly because I haven’t been able to fully articulate, in the way I want to, the feeling of love.

I recently watched Luca Guadagnino’s second film of the year, “Queer,” a meandering slow burn which will certainly turn off those looking for a more delightful side of love. It’s a funny movie, certainly, but often not in the way which comforts and sets one at ease.

“Queer,” based on William S. Burroughs’ unfinished novella, follows William Lee, played by Daniel Craig in a performance which vitally removes the superstardom following the former “James Bond” appointee. Craig’s Lee is a pervert, an often drunken rolling stone who roams the night scene of Mexican bars in search for something his natural charm always seems to get: a night of love.

Lee is queer (the term is used mostly disconnected from our modern-day derogatory revisionary connotation) and finds fascination in scanning other men to find the same quality. It’s the ‘50s in Mexico after all, it’s not right to just walk up and ask someone, especially in a world where the mention of queer turns heads to spot a heretic.

You’d think Lee must feel some anxiety in this world, but he doesn’t, at least not through words. He keeps his distance with most men, always bringing them to a hotel room, never his apartment. A pistol is kept openly on his waist and he dispenses a level of suave educated wit which draws in new challengers while keeping a verbal wall from truly connecting with them.

One man is different. Lee spots him, and while Lee’s clearly interested, he doesn’t pursue. Then, Lee spots him again. A hand gesture. A nod. The younger man seems interested in the characters of Lee’s world, but he’s talking to a young woman quite a lot. Is he, or is he not?

Lee drifts closer, talking with him, walking home together. As they sit in a movie theater, Lee stares at his new acquaintance, Eugene, and imagines himself caressing his cheek, shown through visual language as opaque, superimposed images.

It’s the greatest asset of “Queer.” The palette of visual language is utterly spectacular, especially during the latter half’s jungle adventure which infuses drug-induced hallucinations with a level of surrealism. Perhaps drug trips are the new dream sequence. One scene involving the visual image of crawling into another person’s skin is a memorable, uninhibited display of a primal need for affection.

Even if Guadagnino directing a movie called “Queer” is like George Lucas directing a movie called “Space,” it’s clearly him working at his peak to visually craft the feeling of longing and love. Digital recreations of sunsets and night skies put to use a reported 48 million euro budget to create a visual journey matching the emotional, weighty story of unrequited love.

Eugene keeps his distance from Lee, explaining he does not see himself as queer in the same manner that Lee does. Yet, Lee is still desperate to find out what Eugene really thinks of him. In search of a South American plant called yage which Lee believes has telepathic powers, the two travel to Ecuador.

It’s the type of mystical journey which brings culture shock to two American men. As a whole, the story of “Queer” can be about outsiders and the feeling to belong. Lee, for all of his charm, still desires a connection from the one person he’s desperate to find love in.

Hands moving across chests, legs wrapping around each other, more descriptions which will make the hair stand on your neck. There isn’t a director quite like Guadagnino at filming eroticism. It’s also a chance for Craig to really shine in a role like this, fearless and unrestricted.

As Lee grows more neurotic, more addicted to drugs, more desperate, there’s a empathetic edge to him. Daydreams, like the movie theater scene, show an innocent side to this often disheveled drunk which aligns with our innate desire to see love win. Yet, love doesn’t always play the same game.

It’s an unspoken message in “Queer,” something unique to the gay experience where a sense of belonging isn’t just a right to love, but a right to one’s identity. As a “straight ally” (pretty easy to be one, to be honest) who has seen gay and trans friends go through their lives with increased personal and outward scrutiny because of who they are, it’s an all-too-common story.

Love itself isn’t simple, it’s a deeply ingrained feeling. It infects our mind, and we attach our own optimism and hope because the reward is entire acceptance. To have loved is cruel, but to have known the warmth of love is more addicting than any chemical.