All of Us Strangers (2023)

Score: 3.5 / 5

There's an air of magic to All of Us Strangers, a sort of dreamlike quality that you feel more than perceive. It's not always apparent, but once you key into it, you can't stop sensing that things are just a little off. The main character lives in an enormous high-rise apartment building that is almost entirely vacant; the only other resident meets him and asks for intimacy in a single interaction, and they embark on a profoundly sensitive and loving relationship. Light acts strangely around the main character, breaking into his apartment with almost sentient determination and dramatically coloring all his encounters with his new lover and with his parents, who are much younger than they should be when he visits them. 

This chamber piece indeed features four excellent performances from its actors, who delve into the richly layered dialogue with intense dedication in eliciting all the little nuances it hides. Andrew Scott plays Adam, the main man, whose liminal existence is nevertheless our only conduit into his world, basking in warm glowing light and stoically drifting through a world that cannot hold his interest. His flirtatious neighbor-turned-partner, Harry, is played by a charming Paul Mescal, who distracts Adam from his job as screenwriter (note: not many screenwriters could afford an apartment like this all alone, so again, one wonders the extent of realism here). Sometimes riding by bus to his parents' house in the suburbs, we meet Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, who greet him warmly and inquire all about his life over a meal. We learn that they died in a car crash many years prior, now stuck at that age in Adam's mind as he attempts to reconnect and make sense of his own life.

Director and writer Andrew Haigh exhibits masterful control over visuals and tone -- consider his previous work in Weekend and Looking, among other titles -- and this is no exception. Especially his cinematographer here, Jamie D. Ramsay, does some incredible work here clearly in tandem with Haigh's vision. But it's not an altogether pleasant viewing experience, and that's a matter of taste I mostly blame on the screenplay. It's all just too much to handle. Each interaction Adam has with any character feels cathartic, like a mini manifesto about a certain aspect of queer relationships. Less a roller coaster and more a dirge, each scene bleeds into the next, weighing it down with increasingly intense and tragic meaning. We get no rest, no reprieve, not even fluffy filler to differentiate the energy and offer us a breath of fresh air. And with the predictably excessively tragic twist ending -- no spoilers here, but you can see it coming before it slams into you -- it's all an endurance test that really doesn't go anywhere except from loneliness to maudlin isolation.

That said, it's a beautiful film in more than just visuals. The thick dialogue, while one-note, is profoundly insightful and can offer boons to anyone who appreciates articulation of spiritual and cultural consternation. Adam's relationship with Harry feels swiftly started, but their conversations are wonderfully paced and realistically tender. Their age difference allows for some nice points about "post-AIDS" attitudes about queer identity and gay sex, not diluted with any small talk whatsoever. It's, really, what a real romantic drama should look and sound like, something most (especially hetero romances) eschew in favor of cheap laughs and self-actualization. And, to be fair, Adam's conversations with his parents are similar, with nary a wasted second, and though his coming out to his mother feels jarringly outdated, his coming out to his father is one of the most deeply moving moments in the film.

Your mileage with this film will largely be determined by your own personal history. If you have estranged or nonexistent relationships with your parents, this will hit hard. If you have experienced the death of a lover, you should probably steer clear. If you, like me, were raised in the height of the AIDS epidemic and have experienced more than your share of doomed, tragic gay love stories, it's really hard to enjoy yet another, no matter how pretty it is. Haven't we evolved from basing queer stories on trauma and letting them wallow in it?