Movies

Breaking Down the Gorgeously Symbolic Ending of Queer

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As a film enthusiast with a keen eye for symbolism and emotional depth, I found Luca Guadagnino’s “A Bigger Splash” to be a profound exploration of longing, isolation, and self-destructive behavior, all wrapped up in a beautifully crafted narrative. The film resonated deeply with me due to its raw portrayal of the human condition, particularly in the context of queer identity and the struggle for love and acceptance.

In simpler terms, Luca Guadagnino’s film “Queer” seems straightforward at first glance. It is based on the semi-autobiographical novella by William S. Burroughs and set in 1950s Mexico City. The main character, Lee (played by Daniel Craig), is a middle-aged gay man who projects an air of confidence but hides his inner turmoil of loneliness and despair. He often copes with these feelings through the use of drugs and alcohol. However, when he encounters Eugene (portrayed by Drew Starkey), there’s a glimmer of hope that things might change for him. Eugene represents a potentially transformative, strikingly handsome presence, appearing as if summoned from a dream.

The movie “Queer” primarily focuses on Lee and Eugene’s relationship for about 137 minutes, but the third act takes a surprising turn, filled with vibrant psychedelic visuals, emotions like grief, yearning, and desire. Things become quite peculiar, almost inexplicably so. The movie’s conclusion is unforeseen, thought-provoking, and strange, packed with symbolism that might not be instantly clear. However, within the broader narrative of queer desire and solitude, it becomes less perplexing. Let’s delve into the enigmatic ending of “Queer”.

In the heart of the Ecuadorian wilderness, I embarked on a journey with Eugene by my side, seeking answers from Dr. Cotter, who held a powerful drug that might bring clarity to my life’s turmoil. We ingested ayahuasca and were swept away in an intense, mind-altering voyage. By the flickering light of Cotter’s fire, our physical forms seemed to vanish, and Eugene’s voice echoed through the night, telling me that despite our shared experiences, he didn’t identify as queer. This revelation left me shattered, and I lashed out at him in my anguish, my words lost amidst the trip’s intensity – I couldn’t make myself heard. That same night, I reached out to Eugene again, but he pushed me away, urging me to rest. As he drifted off to sleep, I lay there awake, filled with despair as I knew the love of my life was slipping through my fingers. The self-doubt that had never truly disappeared would return with a vengeance; the cycle of misery continued unabated.

The following day, Eugene also finds himself in a state of distress. Dr. Cotter says to him, referring to the previous night’s disclosures, “The door has been opened; there’s no turning back. All you can do is look away. But why would you?” They then started their journey back to Mexico City, but Lee eventually loses track of Eugene in the dense jungle. Unfortunately, he never sees him again.

Two years have passed, and Lee revisits Mexico City, where he runs into his long-time friend Joe (Jason Schwartzman) at the bar they used to frequent during their boozy nights. Curious about Eugene’s whereabouts, Lee asks Joe, who reveals that Eugene ventured to South America as a tour guide for a military colonel.

Next, things take an unusual turn – or perhaps an even more peculiar twist. We find ourselves transported into a hotel room, reminiscent of the one where Lee had an encounter at the start of Queer. The camera gradually sweeps through the room to reveal Lee lying solitarily in his white attire. He rises, only to discover that things have shifted. The room has transformed into a different setting – one with a swirling carpet, symbolizing his mental condition – and a miniature replica of the hotel on a table. Peering into it with one eye, he sees himself strolling down a red hallway, all alone. His smaller counterpart heads towards the last room on the right, which is largely vacant.

Dr. Cotter’s words resonate strongly in this context. As she conversed with Euguene about an open door, we don’t observe the fruits of his enlightened perspective. However, we do witness how the ayahuasca has unlocked Lee’s mind, symbolized by a sequence of enigmatic dreams that conclude the novel Queer. The dollhouse symbolizes Lee’s past, a questionable experience that transpired prior to his affection for Eugene. In this scenario, Lee’s sorrow is expressed as a longing to revisit the past, a time before he was smitten with Eugene. Yet, he does not aim to expunge the memory of Eugene; rather, by entering the dollhouse, he seeks another opportunity—maybe if he wasn’t so abhorrent this time, Eugene wouldn’t deny his queerness, and he’d remain with Lee.

After shutting the door, he encounters a snake coiled in an endless loop, symbolizing the continuous flow of life, death, and renewal – known as the ouroboros. However, this snake appears to be weeping. As Lee glances up, he finds Eugene lying on a bed with only a glass panel covering his lower body. The centipede necklace around Eugene’s neck, identical to the one worn by the man Lee seduced at the start of the movie, seems to have come to life and is wriggling. When Lee looks down again, the snake vanishes. Looking up once more, the glass panel disappears, and Eugene is simply seated on the bed. Lee fixates his gaze on him.

In the story, as Eugene’s character (symbolized by a centipede) progresses forward, Lee’s (represented by a snake) is stuck in a destructive pattern, repeating past errors. Unlike Eugene who moves on from his relationship with Lee, Lee seems trapped in cycles of loneliness and addiction, much like the shedding of a tear by the symbolic snake. While Eugene has the freedom to leave behind both Lee and queerness, Lee cannot break free from his identity or the oppressive society he lives in, and it’s likely that this repressive environment will consume him. In an interview with TIME, Guadagnino discussed the movie’s symbolism, stating that the centipede stands for repression: “The centipede is the antagonist in the film,” he said.

Afterward, Eugene sets a shot glass atop his head, and Lee retrieves a gun hidden in his coat, a firearm hinted at as potentially lethal in multiple previous scenes. He discharges the weapon, striking Eugene fatally in the temple. Lee exhibits a sinister grin, suggesting he’s escaped some burden, yet soon acknowledges his actions, and rushes to Eugene, gently cradling his face and planting a final kiss on his lips.

In a dreamlike scene, this specific instance in the film’s puzzling finale seems to hold a grain of truth. The author of the novella, William S. Burroughs, experienced a chilling event similar to what is portrayed, involving his second wife, Joan Vollmer. One fateful night in their Mexico City apartment, they played a dangerous game of William Tell where Burroughs attempted to shoot a glass of gin off Vollmer’s head; instead, he fatally shot her. This historical fact lends a sinister undertone to Lee’s smile in the movie, as it signifies his release from a long-standing emotional paralysis caused by love. However, the sadness that follows the smile indicates that both characters have essentially killed the people they deeply cared for, albeit figuratively in Lee’s case.

After hearing a noise at the window, Lee glances in that direction and finds it empty when he looks back, as Eugene has vanished. Instead of opening the door, Lee seems to disappear himself. He finds himself in another room, identical to the first, but this time dressed entirely in black and showing signs of aging. Lee slumps into a chair next to a green table, removing his hat to reveal white hair. Exhausted, he sits on an unmade bed and trembles, much like his previous displays during drug withdrawal, as he struggles to fall asleep. No matter what Lee does, the image of Eugene, a man representing the sexual and romantic liberation that has always eluded him, remains vivid in his memory.

The dimly lit changing rooms and the sudden feeling of aging, along with the unique green hue, evoke memories of an enigmatic movie finale – specifically, that of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. While astronaut Dr. Dave Bowman (portrayed by Keir Dullea) embarks on a personal journey to Jupiter, Lee finds himself confined to different iterations of his hotel room. Although the film Queer shares visual similarities with 2001, its ending is significantly less hopeful than its science fiction counterpart. While exploring the intricacies of 2001 would demand a much larger discussion, the movie ultimately proposes an optimistic progression of humanity into something more advanced, as Dave transforms into the Starchild. In contrast, Queer does not embody this sense of hopefulness.

In a scene, Lee envisions his younger self tenderly holding Eugene, a man whom he deeply admired but who did not reciprocate his feelings. From their waist downwards, the camera captures them in an eerie, disconnected manner. The shot then focuses on Lee’s face, with the camera zooming in more closely as the sound gradually diminishes. A hint of trembling is seen on Lee’s lips before they cease, as he meets his end, filled with despair and solitude.

As a cinephile captivated by the moving storyline, I must say that even when all seemed lost for Lee, the last few seconds of the film – a swirl of blues, purples, and yellows – hint at something more hopeful. The dancing strands of color evoke the image of flickering embers, igniting in us a renewed yearning.

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2024-12-06 23:06

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