I’ve only seen two of Andrew Haigh’s previous movies, but Lean on Pete and, especially, 45 Years gave me the impression he is a director who has little use for conventional sentimentality, no matter how much the material warrants it. His new one, however, exudes an emotional earnestness that relies on the viewer’s faith in its sticky fantasy premise, and by the end, though I found the love story affecting, it also struck me as corny. Perhaps the stickiness was already there in the source material, a 1987 novel I haven’t read by Taichi Yamada, but since Yamada’s tale took place in Japan and centered on a heterosexual affair, I would assume Haigh made significant changes when he moved it to London and adapted the love story for two men. I’m not the kind of person who thinks that queer love is substantially different from the straight kind once you remove the social elements (and I know many people will disagree), but I can’t help thinking that Haigh lightened the mood artificially. One of the main characters, after all, is presented as being depressed, maybe suicidal. 

What All of Us Strangers shares with the above-mentioned two films is a spare cast. Adam (Andrew Scott) is a writer living in a modern apartment tower that appears to be almost deserted. The only other person in the block is someone he spies one evening while looking out his window. This man, Harry (Paul Mescal), notices the attention and, drunk, shows up at Adam’s door suggesting they spend some time together. Adam politely refuses the entreaty but it’s obvious he’s both intrigued and perplexed by the attention. Though he has made peace with his homosexuality, it’s still something he dwells on obsessively, conditioned by a closeted adolescence. Before we know it, Adam is back in his suburban home town, lingering outside the house where he grew up. His parents (Jamie Bell, Claire Foy) see him out on the sidewalk and invite him in, happy for the unannounced visit, and as Adam passes a mirror in the living room we catch a glimpse of him as a pre-teen. His parents, we learn, died in a car crash when he was about that age, and he was never able to talk to them about his sexuality. Here is the chance, and while these imaginary conversations are clearly ripe with longing and self-actualization, their implied value as therapy for a soul that’s never had the chance to hash out its confusions and paradoxes feels forced.

When Adam applies the insights he gains from these fantasies to his new relationship with Harry—a relationship that Adam, like a good patient, pursues with a positive attitude—the results are also positive: the sex is honest and satisfying, the emotional payback enlightening and empowering. Eventually, the relationship itself goes dark and enters the realm of fantasy, though to what end is never really clear. As heartbreaking as All of Us Strangers is, the use of these diversions to make sense of unpleasant truths has the effect of sentimentalizing the story.

Now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Chanter Hibiya (050-6868-5001), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Shibuya Cine Quinto (03-3477-5905), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

All of Us Strangers home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2023 20th Century Studios