Daniel Craig Deconstructs James Bond,
One Blowjob at a Time
Does Queer stay true to Burroughs’ novel? Technically, yes.
Does it really embody it? Picture Guadagnino lounging in a silk hammock, cocktail in hand, casually flipping through the pages.
Do we walk away with something substantial? Not really.
Honestly, if you can, show up late — around 1h43.
That’s when it finally kicks in: the yage, aka ayahuasca, the visuals that actually make the trip worth it, and a narrative that picks up speed.
Until then, it’s slow scene after slow scene, and let’s be honest, you’d expect more fiesta from 1950s Mexico.
What you get instead feels closer to a Beatnik lit seminar.
Jonathan Anderson — who, by the way, is THE design genius of his generation — seems to trip over his own narrative.
In interviews, he talks about how much he agonized over recreating 1950s fashion for the context of Queer’s atmosphere.
And yet, we end up with linen shirts and beige trousers.
Classic? Yes. Exciting? Meh.
We were expecting something bold, maybe a twist of subversive elegance.
Instead, it’s Pinterest-postcolonial chic: cowboys lost in a tropical haze, dressed more for brunch in Ibiza than for the sticky heat of Mexico City.
So yes, it drags.
Skip straight to the third chapter if needed.
But stay for what this film really stands for: a world clinging to its past and an actor who gracefully turns his back on it.
When Daniel Craig — the man who embodied ultimate masculinity for fifteen years — drops to his knees in a move that challenges a whole cultural legacy.
James Bond, the guy who only ever kneels to adjust his cufflinks, is suddenly there: vulnerable, exposed, performing a blowjob.
And that’s precisely when the film becomes interesting.
Because Queer isn’t just about an American expat obsessing over a younger man in 1950s Mexico.
It’s about the slow decline of a certain model of masculinity — back then and even more so today.
While Trump and Musk continue to play cowboy in the “realpolitik” of 2025, Luca Guadagnino films a man walking away from those old codes without fanfare or ideology.
And that’s the beauty of it: it’s not “woke”. There’s no sermonizing, no TikTok-friendly righteousness.
Just Daniel Craig — 2020’s Bond himself — embracing a fragility his old character would’ve sneered at.
That’s the real relevance of Queer in 2025. It’s not a movie about homosexuality; it’s about the cracks forming in a cultural monolith that no longer holds.
It’s not a movie about homosexuality; it’s about the cracks forming in a cultural monolith that no longer holds.
Queer doesn’t try to seduce you.
It’s the kind of film that stares at itself in the mirror, whispering,“You’re iconic, darling” while quietly mourning an impossible love.
Guadagnino serves us an Americano cocktail: smooth, bitter, with a stylistic twist that sometimes verges on the ridiculous.
You’ll love it. Or hate it.
But you probably won’t want to sit through the full 2h16… Just skip to 1h30 — you’ll get it.