There is such a narrow boundary between interest and infatuation, and no one knows this better than the protagonist of Love and Death on Long Island, which focuses on a few months in the life of a pedantic English writer who finds himself accidentally seeing a teen-oriented comedy, and by almost a serendipitous turn of events becomes aware of one of the film’s stars, a young man who instantly captures the bitter old writer’s heart, to the point where he finds himself voyaging across the Atlantic to assimilate into the young actor’s life. Written and directed by Richard Kwietniowski, known more for his fascinating work in the independent cinema of Canada, Love and Death on Long Island is a fascinating film that looks at the almost non-existing boundary that exists between taking an active interest in a subject, and descending into a form of crazed obsession. Treated with respect, but never condoned in such a way that you’d think that the film was supportive of the lifestyle of wealthy individuals that use trickery and manipulation to force themselves into the lives of the people they deeply admire, the film is a peculiar piece of storytelling that is constantly aiming for a kind of social commentary that is almost betrayed by its more simplistic format – but this is one instance where a very direct, unassuming method of storytelling actually contributes to the viewer’s experience, since we take our place as voyeurs, individuals observing the various interactions between a man who allows his infatuation to lead him astray, and the subject of his obsession, who gradually starts to realize the depths to which this newfound friendship extends, making for multilayered, fascinating filmmaking.

The film is adapted by from a novella by Gilbert Adair, which in turn takes its cue from the novel Death in Venice, which was also turned into an astonishing film by Luchino Visconti, who told a similar story about an aged writer lost in a foreign land, falling deeply in love with someone who is entirely oblivious to his sincere affections. Naturally, the two texts are different enough to justify the very unique perspective offered by the director in Love and Death on Long Island, which is a much more polished work, particularly in how everything does have a relatively neat resolution, rather than being the operatic tragedy of the Visconti film, which was far more intense. Constructed as somewhere between an intimate romance and charming comedy, the film is balancing a number of themes, many of which can be seen throughout the director’s work – he may not be the most well-established filmmaker, but Kwietniowski did some exceptional work in independent cinema, and this film may just be his crowning achievement. Love and Death on Long Island is a film in which many different ideas are woven together, and the true scope of the existential complexity simmering beneath the film can only be comprehended in the later stages, after which we’ve come to understand the direction in which the film is heading. It can make for a bit of a challenging viewing experience, since this is not a story that seems willing to surrender to conventions, which is interesting for what appears to be a relatively traditional comedy that centres on slightly more serious subject matter. This makes for a film that seems much more aligned with the arthouse than it would appear at first, and considering the director’s previous work, this makes much more sense, even if Love and Death on Long Island warrants a lot more attention, if only for how it approaches certain ideas.

The 1990s were a watershed moment for queer cinema, with many independent filmmakers finding their voices being elevated when it comes to telling stories that were about representation – the industry was not ready to fully embrace queer identities, but there was a considerable movement towards more inclusivity, which is where Love and Death on Long Island mostly exists – while it is never explicitly coded as queer, there are undercurrents of attraction felt between characters, particular the often peculiar energy emanating from the protagonist, who finds himself questioning his own identity after a fated encounter with a beautiful young man in a cinema one evening, where he was perched in his seat, while his paramour was acting on screen, the enchanting membrane of the theatre screen making them feel simultaneously so close, yet so excruciatingly far. It’s very likely every one of us have fallen in love with a film star to some degree – what makes Love and Death on Long Island so intriguing is that it transposes the common idea of a younger person seeing their idol on screen with the most unexpected kind of individual, an established and self-serious artist who sees himself as above the very world in which he spends the next few months deeply immersed. The film could’ve easily have been extraordinarily flippant in its humour, and while there are very funny moments, they’re never at the expense of any of the characters in terms of placing them in a position where they’re the subject of mockery. As questionable as the main character’s behaviour may be, they make sense in the context of the story being told – he is an old man who is rediscovering his sexuality at an advanced age, and the film notably portrays this in a way that is more platonic, one that is less about desire, and more about the feeling of capturing that spark of passion that we all feel when experiencing love at first sight, which is really the central theme of the film as a whole.

The role of Giles De’Ath could not have been occupied by a better actor than John Hurt – while there are undeniably actors of equal stature and talent that could have convincingly gone through the motions and turned in a good performance, what Hurt does with the character is far more formidable. It isn’t the first time he has played a character exploring his identity, with his iconic performance as Quentin Crisp in The Naked Civil Servant and An Englishman in New York (the latter having several parallels with this film) being amongst the greatest in terms of queer-coded representation of their respective eras. Hurt is an actor of considerable sensitivity – every word and movement that we see him produce feels carefully planned, placed in a scene by an actor who understands the power he is afforded. Considering Giles is not always a likeable character in terms of how he is developed, it is impressive that Hurt manages to evoke the most sincere empathy on the part of the viewer – we may find his antics absurd and borderline deranged, but they’re delivered by an actor who is capable of working through them in a way that is oddly endearing. It is helpful that the film never expects the character to cross the threshold that would take him from a curious old man with a spark of energy, to someone who is blatantly trying to manipulate his way into satiating his desires. Hurt’s effortless charm and ability to frequently create characters that are meaningful and complex are the main contributors in this regard, and takes Love and Death on Long Island to a place of genuine insight into the mind of someone who has allowed his obsession to take him to unexpected places.

Love and Death on Long Island is a film that will certainly evoke a number of different reactions in the viewer. From a contemporary perspective, the story is not particularly easy to digest – the concept of a decrepit old man flying across the globe to force himself into the life of a young man with whom he has developed a one-side romance, is arguably extremely troubling – but even taken in context, the film acknowledges the inherent complexities of such a situation, showing itself to be sympathetic to the supposedly unavoidable feeling of love at first sight, but never once lending its support to the subsequent behaviour, which it views with an appropriately critical gaze. This is vital to the story, with the tone set throughout this film being that of looking at someone who may not be acting in a way that can be considered rational, but rather is following his instincts – and grappling with the narrow boundary between sincere obsession and outright perversion, we can see how the story intends to portray its character as someone driven to question his identity through an infatuation with a matinee idol, rather than being outright compelled to insert himself into his beloved’s life. It may not be the most seamlessly assimilated aspect of the plot, but it is one that does carry a lot of merits, and for all of its faults, Love and Death on Long Island has many interesting ideas that compensate for a slightly more unsettling story – the humour is fresh and invigorating, the writing is exceptionally sharp and the performances are exactly what was required to convince us to the merits of the film as a whole. Ultimately, it doesn’t have much to say outside of its portrayal of identity as a constantly shifting concept (which is interesting, considering many similarly-themed films are all about people who have known their identity all along, but differ in how they embrace it). Well-crafted and very funny, but filled with heart and soul, Love and Death on Long Island is an absolute delight.