March 07, 2024 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | By Sophia Lisco
“All of Us Strangers” is hot and on Hulu this week — it’s here, it’s queer and it will leave you in tears. Spoilers to follow.
Adapted from a 1987 novel by Taichi Yamada entitled “Strangers,” Andrew Haigh’s 2023 release became a sleeper sensation following its festival premiere. “All of Us Strangers” stars Andrew Scott alongside Paul Mescal as a pair of neighbors turned lovers.
In a loose adaptation of the original story, “All of Us Strangers” follows Adam, a screenwriter who lives alone, as he delves into his past for inspiration for his next story. Upon visiting his childhood home (filmed on location at Haigh’s real-life house), Adam discovers an otherworldly connection with his long dead parents, allowing him to relive parts of his childhood and seek the advice of his late mother and father. At the same time, he begins to develop a relationship with Harry who, in a drunken stupor, knocks on Adam’s door one lonely night. As more is revealed about Adam’s past, his relationship with Harry flourishes, leading the audience to believe that there might be hope for this orphan, after all.
Before I explain why I have issues with “All of Us Strangers,” let me tell you why I liked it: the love story is beautifully told. Paul Mescal’s subtlety and Andrew Scott’s standout performance add a level of depth and chemistry that couldn’t have been written into the script. Because the story moves so fast, the two share few scenes that show the development of their relationship from strangers to lovers, but their connection as characters and people is palpable. Their first intimacy scene is carefully executed — it’s raw and tender, avoiding the over-eroticization that is so common in homoerotic male love scenes and setting the tone for their connection throughout the film.
Adam’s relationship with his parents is also thoughtfully portrayed in a way that will surely hit home with many viewers. A turbulent relationship with one’s parents is often a cornerstone of queer stories (and lives), and the nuances of Adam’s family dynamic, while highly specific, help illustrate some of the timeless complexities that resurface in countless lives. It’s worth noting that the story bends convention ever so slightly in the way that Adam’s mom reacts more strongly to his coming out compared to Adam’s dad.
The signs of positive queer representation throughout the first 90 minutes of the film were promising, and I was completely on board with “All of Us Strangers” until the ending — which is spoiled below.
When Adam parts ways with his parents, his heart is free to move forward and follow his love for Harry. That is, until he walks into Harry’s apartment and finds him dead. Hey-o!
The film ends as Adam cuddles Harry’s ghost while “The Power of Love” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood plays. And, as the tears rolled down my face with the credits, my temporary devastation turned to anger as I realized ‘dammit, they did it again.’
There are a few interpretations of this ending. I prefer to believe that Harry was dead the whole time a la “The Sixth Sense,” because believing that he was killed off in a sadistic screenwriting move would force me to hate an otherwise beautiful film.
I would be forced to hate it because “All of Us Strangers” would just become “Brokeback Mountain,” “Portrait of a Lady on Fire,” “Call Me by Your Name” or even that one episode of “The Last of Us.” Killing Harry in the last act would turn his and Adam’s love affair into another tragic queer story. Boy meets boy, they fall in love, they are torn apart by a tragic and insurmountable plot twist (be it death, homophobia, geographic distance, etc.), roll credits. “All of Us Strangers” skirts this convention slightly by, woah, having Harry be dead all along. But that wasn’t quite enough for me as I stared at a blank screen, listening to “The Power of Love” (which is now forever ruined for me). They did it again.
Queer pain sells, and “All of Us Strangers” certainly did. We deserve more dramas with happy endings — queer joy deserves and demands more screen time. And, until these movies start winning awards and critical acclaim, we will continue to be disappointed.
I appreciate your reaction but it’s made pretty clear toward the end that Harry died early on — specifically, the night of the fire drill when Adam didn’t “let him in” (a terribly clunky line in an otherwise beautifully written and acted film). Harry’s body was left undiscovered in his apartment until Adam “found him” (a much better line, and pretty devastating given the film’s themes of isolation and loneliness). I think the cliche Haigh is grappling with here isn’t the “kill your gays” trope you mention, but rather that of the sad gay, doomed to die alone and often by their own hand (Adam’s mother actually verbalizes this once common, hopefully outmoded perception of LGBTQ+ life). What bothers me about the film is the unnecessary (and, given the prevalence of depression and suicide, possibly dangerous) ambiguity surrounding the final image of Harry and Adam, ascending to the heavens together as a single beam of starlight in a sky filled with many other similarly bright stars. Perhaps Haigh means for us to understand that it is not their “spirits” but the love they share that we see rising. But the image can also serve to undermine everything Adam — and we — have learned from Harry, Adam’s parents, and Frankie Goes to Hollywood. It could suggest that for many, Adam included, happiness and love will not be found while alive on earth. It’s as if Haigh (and Frankie!) wants to say “choose life” but can’t resist the undeniable romanticism of the tragic love affair that he knows will leave his audience in tears. In that final moment, then, Haigh tries to have it both ways, and the vibe becomes less “The Power of Love” and more “Don’t Fear the Reaper.”