Luca Guadagnino Said 'Hold My Peach' and Delivered 'Queer'

A cinematic feast that awakens all your senses

Welcome back to another deliciously candid dive into cinema that makes us feel things! Today, we're exploring the sumptuous world of Luca Guadagnino's latest masterpiece, "Queer" – a film that had me clutching my pearls in the absolute best way possible.

Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey in a Guadagnino exploration of desire? Yes, please, and thank you.

Guadagnino: Cinema's Master Sensualist

Let's talk about Luca Guadagnino for a moment. This man doesn't just make movies – he crafts multi-sensory experiences that leave you feeling thoroughly seduced, even when he's making horror films. Full disclosure: he's my favorite filmmaker, and yes, there's absolutely bias here because he is, quite simply, extraordinary.

From the sun-drenched Italian summer of "Call Me By Your Name" to the sweat-slicked tension of "Challengers," to the heartbreakingly romantic road movie about teenage cannibals in "Bones and All," Guadagnino has consistently proven himself cinema's master sensualist. He doesn't just want you to watch his films; he wants you to taste them, smell them, feel them against your skin.

I've always believed that living a truly sensual life means experiencing everything with every sense available to us. Guadagnino understands this on a cellular level. His camera lingers on textures – skin, fabric, food – inviting your fingers to reach toward the screen. His soundscapes envelop you completely. Even his color palettes seem to have flavors.

"Queer" continues this tradition but takes it to new, intoxicating heights. The Mexico City heat practically radiates from the screen. You can taste the whiskey, feel the weight of a glance across a smoky bar. Cinema that awakens all your senses? That's my love language.

What Is "Queer" About?

"Queer" is Guadagnino's adaptation of William S. Burroughs' semi-autobiographical novella, following William Lee (the criminally attractive Daniel Craig – who knew 007 could be this deliciously queer?) as an American expatriate in 1950s Mexico City who becomes utterly obsessed with a gorgeous younger man, Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey, who is – and I cannot stress this enough – a vision).

This was apparently Guadagnino's dream project since he was 17, which honestly explains so much about his entire filmography. He's been mentally preparing to make this movie his entire adult life, and it shows in every frame.

Between "Queer" and "Challengers" dropping in the same year, 2024 became the year Guadagnino chose cinematic violence against our senses – and I, for one, am grateful for the assault.

The Revolutionary Nature of Desire

What makes "Queer" absolutely revolutionary is how unapologetically it centers gay desire. This isn't your sanitized, Hollywood "let's make this palatable for straight audiences" version of queerness. This is raw, complicated, messy desire in all its glory.

Craig's performance as Lee gives us a character whose queerness isn't his entire personality, but it's not downplayed either. It's simply part of who he is – a messy, complex, fully realized human being who wants, aches, and pursues his desires without shame.

The contrast between Lee's established sexuality and the complicated sexual awakening of his young paramour creates palpable tension. The 1950s gay experience was profoundly lonely, and these characters embody that isolation in visceral ways. The fear and excitement of coming into one's sexuality as a gay man radiates from every scene.

The way Guadagnino frames these characters, you can almost feel their skin prickle with awareness when they're near each other. There's a tactile quality to their chemistry that transcends the screen – that moment when someone walks into a room and suddenly all your nerve endings are on high alert. We've all been there.

The Art of Intimate Scenes

Now, let's address those sex scenes that have everyone talking. After the infamous peach scene and strategic camera work in "Call Me By Your Name," Guadagnino essentially said "NOT THIS TIME" and delivered some of the most explicit yet artistically rendered gay sex scenes in mainstream cinema.

But here's what's genuinely revolutionary – these scenes aren't just provocative (though they absolutely are); they're integral to the story. The physical connection between Lee and Allerton reveals character, advances the narrative, and deepens our understanding of their complex dynamic.

Guadagnino films these moments with such tactile awareness that you can practically feel the heat radiating between bodies, the texture of skin against skin, the weight and pressure of each touch. It's intimate in a way that makes you feel like you're witnessing something deeply private rather than watching something performative.

This is what I mean about living sensually. In these scenes, Guadagnino reminds us that sexuality isn't just visual – it's a full-body, multi-sensory experience. The sound of breathing, the contrast of textures, the play of light across skin – it's cinema that engages all your senses, which is exactly what meaningful intimacy does too.

When Reality Bends: Hallucination as Desire

As "Queer" progresses, Guadagnino transitions from sensual to downright psychedelic, reflecting the complete disorientation of fully realizing your desire.

The hallucinatory visuals aren't just stylistic flourishes – they provide access to both Lee's and Eugene's internal landscapes, places where desire and reality blur. Guadagnino asks us: isn't falling for someone a kind of beautiful madness? Doesn't desire remake the world around us?

The film uses these dreamlike sequences to express something universal about wanting someone so intensely that reality itself seems to warp. As a viewer, it required effort to surrender to these moments without intellectualizing them – which is exactly what we should remember to do when allowing ourselves to get lost in desire. Guadagnino simply makes that feeling gorgeously visual.

Why It All Matters

As a sex therapist, I witness daily how harmful it is when people don't see their desires reflected authentically in culture. When certain experiences – particularly queer ones – are consistently erased, sanitized, or distorted, it creates a kind of sexual shadow that breeds shame and disconnection.

What "Queer" accomplishes brilliantly is presenting gay desire as worthy of the same artistic treatment that heterosexual desire has received throughout cinema's entire history. It declares: this form of desire is equally complex, equally worthy of exploration, equally beautiful and messy and transformative.

By awakening our senses to the full experience of queer desire – making it something we can almost touch, taste, and feel – Guadagnino helps normalize and humanize experiences that have historically been stigmatized. He removes queer sexuality from both the shadows and the sanitized versions we often encounter, placing it firmly in the realm of high art.

This sensual approach to filmmaking creates more than just compelling cinema – it fosters better understanding of human sexuality in all its forms. When we engage with desire through all our senses, we connect with our shared humanity beyond labels and categories.

The Bottom Line

"Queer" is a film that doesn't just want you to watch it; it demands that you feel it with every sense you possess. It's a master class in desire that might just transform how you experience both cinema and your own relationship with longing.

If you haven't seen it yet, consider this your official prescription from your friendly neighborhood sex therapist. Experience it with all your senses open – you might discover something profound about the nature of desire itself.

Have you seen "Queer"? Did it awaken your senses? Did you feel things shift inside you while watching? I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions. Cinema this powerful deserves to be discussed, dissected, and celebrated.

Dr. Cayte is a sex therapist and self-identified media analyst who examines the intersection of sexuality, gender, and representation in popular culture. Follow for weekly analyses of films, TV shows, and other media that shape our understanding of relationships and desire.