Last night, thanks to the Criterion Channel, I watched "Querelle," a movie I hadn't seen in the 40 years since it was released ('82 in Europe, '83 here). I don't remember much about my initial theater viewing. It was in Dallas, perhaps at Highland Park Village or Northpark I & II; it wasn't the Inwood.
I was enamored by the art direction and aura of the film. I remember going in expecting much more gay erotica than what "Querelle" delivers. I dozed in a few spots and thought Jeanne Moreau got in the way and when onscreen, stopped the film cold. It was in German (I expected French) with English subtitles, and remember vividly one of them: "I give you only my ass." At the time I thought Brad Davis was OK; time has mellowed that as last night I found him hotter than hell, which of course the sociopath is meant to be.
But last night, I felt the film was even more of a chore to watch. It moves at a snail's pace, though kudos to Fassbinder for creating a mostly linear arc from Genet's from the hip (though poetic) storytelling. I found Moreau even more aggravating, hated Franco Nero, was jarred by the Genet quotations, and rolled my eyes as Querelle and the brother fought as a passion play progressed. Querelle getting fucked by NoNo was a highlight.
In short, I didn't think this was a very good film at all. Everyone acts as if they are zombies, and who knows what happens after Seblon and Querelle run away, offscreen, into a dark and foreboding place. This morning I read Vincent Canby's contemporary review of the film (linked; hopefully there isn't a paywall for archival items). He called it "a mess," and I have the same feelings. Do you? Is this a landmark of queer cinema, or just a Meyer-like exploitation of the supposedly shocking view of homosexuality in the 1980s?