It was a day just like any other day – in fact, it probably would have been even less memorable had there not been a concerted effort to find out the events in as much detail as possible. On an ordinary weekday afternoon in December of 1974, journalist and writer Linda Rosenkrantz welcomed Peter Hujar into her apartment in New York City, where they would engage in a brief but memorable discussion about every conceivable topic. A world-renowned photographer and member of the city’s artistic elite, Hujar carries himself with a quiet grace and a cocksure elegance, a feast of contradictions that his companion for the day finds irresistible, to the point where he is to be the first subject in a book she is planning, whereby she is going to interview a range of notable artisans across the city, asking them a very simple question: what happened yesterday? Over the course of the day, Hujar discusses the previous day’s events, which he at first considered entirely unmemorable, to the point where he wishes he had actively forgotten what happened rather than fixating on the details. Yet, the further he gets into the conversation, the more is revealed, until all that is left is a quiet calm between two extraordinary artistic voices, whose connection has somehow grown stronger in the preceding few hours. This is all the foundation on which Ira Sachs builds Peter Hujar’s Diary, a film based on the manuscript of the now-lost recording of the lengthy conversation between Rosenkrantz and Hujar, two close friends who spent a day talking about his daily life, and in the process revealed more about each other than either of them had expected. A simple drama that sees Sachs once again crafting an elegant and quiet exploration of artistic values, the virtue of ferocious independence and the disquieting beauty of marching to the beat of one’s own drum, even if it can sometimes be excruciatingly difficult to remain in rhythm, especially when surrounded by those who have chosen easier paths in life. Sachs has quietly become one of our most essential voices, and as both a social critic and queer storyteller, he was the perfect person to introduce Hujar’s extraordinary legacy to a whole new generation of viewers who may not have had the chance to experience his work, allowing his own words and works – or at least as much as possible – to speak for themselves.

Two concepts seem to dominate every artistic discussion – life and death, the former a miracle, the latter an inevitability, both leading to an ongoing attempt to understand what it all means. Yet, something that is not commonly appreciated is how these are not particularly interesting topics, and that it’s actually everything that occurs in between these biological bookends that makes for compelling discussions. This is something that Peter Hujar’s Day relishes in exploring – Rosenkrantz seemed to have an inkling that this would be the case when she envisioned the ambitious project that this film uses as its foundation, and while she may not have realised it in its entirety (instead turning the manuscript into a book dedicated exclusively to her friend), the conceptual roots are still very much present, and form the basis for this tremendous film. Hujar and his companion du jour speak about a range of subjects, going from the mild frustrations he felt due to daily chores, to the challenges he faced with his artistic endeavours and professional commitments – and Sachs finds value in every one of them, using Hujar’s words to reflect a wide range of topics, running the gamut between the banal and the divine, which he posits are not as mutually exclusive as we may imagine. Primarily, we find that Peter Hujar’s Day is a film about art – it was always going to centre on this as its primary theme, considering the participants in the discussion – but it’s in the various avenues relating to the subject that the director chooses to explore that we find the most abundant meaning. Hujar’s life was driven by art, with his friends and colleagues all being drawn from various compartments of the creative world, each one bringing with them new insights and observations, which he gladly imparts, at least in terms of discussing the role they play in inspiring or frustrating him, or a blend of both, which seems to be most common. It’s an examination of art as seen through the eyes of two people who share a common thread, while still being profoundly different in their worldview, leading to a compelling and fascinating conversation on which this tremendous film is constructed.

In recent years, I’ve come to a very simple conclusion, which is that the world can be divided into two broad sets of people – those who view Ben Whishaw as one of the finest actors of his generation, and those who have not yet witnessed his incredible skills. For nearly two decades, he has been delivering absolutely stellar work, playing roles that stretch and challenge him in ways that would intimidate even the most seasoned of professionals. Yet, just when we thought we’d seen everything he can do, he arrives with yet another staggering performance – and after all these years, it shouldn’t be surprising when he reminds us that he’s beyond gifted. As the titular character in Peter Hujar’s Day, Whishaw is tasked with bringing this complex man to life. Even to those who know his work, Hujar was an enigma – the camera was how he communicated the way he saw the world, which made the conversation with Rosenkrantz so fascinating, since it forced him to set aside his tool and instead use his words to describe his life, even if it was about something as trivial as his daily routine. Sachs has credited Whishaw himself with the motivation to allow this project to take on this form, which was originally designed to be a short film until Whishaw managed to convince Sachs (through his passion for the material) that it could feasibly be feature-length. The results are wonderful – this is essentially a 75-minute showcase for an actor who can command the screen like no one else. It takes a lot of work to play someone who is much more subtle and reserved, while still demanding the audience’s attention throughout, which is why it was important to pair him with an actor who could slide into the role of the audience surrogate, allowing us to be present in the moment, understanding precisely what it is that makes him such an enigmatic character. Rebecca Hall is a worth scene partner for Whishaw, since she not only matches him beat-for-beat, instilling a sense of genuine curiosity in the dynamic between these two characters and very effectively conveying the feeling that these are two lifelong friends simply sharing a day, which is a credit to both the central performances and the exceptional work the director does in capturing the underlying complexities that linger beneath the surface.

Authenticity was always going to be the priority with a film like Peter Hujar’s Day, which is a poignant and daring achievement that may be simple, but finds value in this particular approach. Sachs certainly does have his work cut out for him, since he has to find a way to make an entire film in which two people simply sit in an apartment and talk – no framing device, no characters that weave in and out to add to the story, and a clear restriction to not add to the text, but rather allow it to stand on its own. This may not seem like a particularly compelling idea in theory, but as we’ve seen with films like I Want to Talk about Duras and My Dinner with Andre (both of which seem to be at least partially inspirations for this film, or perhaps spiritual predecessors, both in structure and thematic content), all it takes to capture an audience’s attention is good writing, great performances and a sincere devotion to the core themes represented in this story. We can see a lot of value in the content of their conversations – this is a celebration of art and the people who dedicate their lives to it, while focusing specifically on the banalities and eccentricities that define the existences of those who seem to be driven by the need to create, by any means necessary. Sachs’ overall thesis statement – based on the aspects of the conversation that he focuses on – is that some of the most beautiful, challenging art comes from the awkwardness and inconvenience of everyday life, where the most banal, meaningless situations can inspire someone to create incredible works. It’s very easy to see why this would make a tremendously entertaining film, as well as one that is actively trying to provoke thought. Sachs has always been a director who has veered towards the subtle more than the overly flowery, using dialogue and simple visual compositions (here handled by Alex Ashe, whose rich, grainy cinematography lends the film an almost dreamlike aesthetic, as if we were witnessing the actual conversation in 1974) allow for a constant focus on the details, which add layers of meaning to a film that is already bursting with such a unique, provocative energy.

It cannot be overstated what a pleasure it is to get access into the mind of one of the greatest artists of his generation, even if it is through a more roundabout approach. Hujar is not someone whose name is immediately recognisable to those who aren’t familiar with the history of photography or this particular era in the New York City art scene (although many of his works are instantly familiar, even if he isn’t always given the widespread credit he deserves), but this doesn’t change the fact that he was a singular visionary, someone whose perspective interweaved with his artistry to create unforgettable masterpieces. Yet, it was his worldview that is the focus here, with Sachs setting out to look at the man who stood behind the camera, allowing his mind to unravel through his words and nothing more. There is an interesting detail about this film – despite the plot revolving around a photographer, we never see any of his work on screen, which is not only practical (since it is unlikely that he’d walk around with a portfolio when simply visiting a friend), but also shifts the focus away from the work itself, and more into his mental and emotional state, where the most curious and intriguing details are contained. It’s a very simple approach, but one that bears a lot of relevance in how we understand and unpack this film. A film anchored by Whishaw’s sublime performance (with Hall not being too far behind – but the nature of her role means that she was always going to be a supporting player in this story), and driven by a director whose subtlety and appreciation for nuance has always been his greatest strength, Peter Hujar’s Day is absolutely sublime, and a tremendously compelling work that is as poignant as it is thought-provoking, a blend that works perfectly considering the subject of the film.