I’ve been trying to write this for so long. Last year, I watched All of Us Strangers, directed and written for the screen by Andrew Haigh, based upon the novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada. It was one of the most emotionally gut-wrenching experiences I’ve had at the movies in a very long time, and I included it in my personal ranking of my favorite films of 2023. In my discussion on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, I mentioned how Sunshine film felt so real, so human, during my sole viewing that I cannot today revisit it. I can say the same for All of Strangers. I remember literally telling myself in the theater that there is no way I can watch this again, it’s too achingly tender. I remember hearing my fellow audience members holding back sobs.
Art that can do this, that can touch the deepest parts of us and arouse our profoundest feelings, inspires me and reminds me why I value and have dedicated my life to art. As much as the film brought me to my knees, I commend the artists behind the film, Haigh and his incredible cast and crew, for their skill in mining the depths of life’s substance.
I’m not sure if my words here will be enough to convey the film’s power. I’ll do my best. I highly recommend this film to anyone who might be interested, as heavy as it is. I’ll also provide a spoiler warning for late plot reveals.
The central character is Adam (Andrew Scott), a writer living by himself in a sparsely populated high rise in London. The messiness of his living space is a sign of how he hasn’t had people over in a long time. Andrew Scott plays Adam brilliantly, with so much feeling conveyed through his face. In these early scenes, we sense Adam’s loneliness and monotonous daily routine. His eyes convey little excitement or wonder, since there is little for him to look forward to in the solitary life he has made for himself.
One evening, the fire alarm goes off. Adam waits outside and notices that one of his few neighbors sharing the building hasn’t left. The man and Adam watch each other, the former from above, the latter from below. Once the alarm ends and Adam comes back to his place, he hears someone at his door. It’s the man he had shared a gaze with earlier, Harry (Paul Mescal). Mescal’s performance is just as stunning as Scott’s is. Harry’s eyes are heavy and sad. He stands at the doorway with subtle nervous energy. They make small talk, which gently builds to flirtation, sharing smiles. Harry asks if he can come in. Adam says no.
Sometime later, Adam takes the train to his childhood home, where he finds and spends time with his adoring, warm parents, who are happy to see him after so long. His dad (Jamie Bell) and mom (Claire Foy) aren’t far from him in age. That’s because they have been dead for decades, losing their lives in a car accident during Adam’s childhood.
Here, the film reveals what its central story is. It’s about Adam facing the ghosts of his parents so that he can let love back into his life.
As he continues to visit his parents, he recovers and deepens his relationship with Harry. They share intimate conversations about their pasts and their families. They also explore each other’s bodies. I still remember the way Harry’s hand caressed Adam’s leg during their first sexual experience together. The caress felt both gentle and yearning, conveying desire and patience.
There is something so particular and specific too in how Adam later touches Harry as they’re laying in bed together. I felt as if I were observing two people, not watching actors on the screen.
This doesn’t turn out to be a simple wish-fulfillment story or a fairy tale about someone’s deceased parents providing love and support from beyond the grave . Haigh’s screenplay is deeply authentic. By this, I mean, it strives to be true to life, where even things that seem to be going well aren’t easy. Jamie Bell and Claire Foy play their characters with depth and complexity, as the script asks. They have difficult conversations with Adam about past regrets. One of his parents even expresses resistance when Adam comes out, something that he never could have done during his parents’ lifetimes.
A dear friend of mine and I have both talked about our shared exasperation over the prevalence of sad Queer stories. Of course, there is a sadness in the life of a Queer person due to the opposition of heteronormativity and its resulting bigotry, exclusion, and violence. Stories need to express these truths. Yet, there is so much more in the life of a Queer person, so much joy and beauty and warmth. More stories need to convey this.
Despite my annoyance for sad Queer stories, I personally view All of Us Strangers as valuable. I think this is because it focuses on how grief and sorrow can interfere with Queer romance. Most sad Queer love stories I’ve seen or read focus on the impossibility of Queer love because of heteronormativity. Thus, All of Us Strangers charts its own way instead of walking familiar paths.
Grief, in my view, isn’t just the feeling of loss. It’s also the weight of the impossibility over never experiencing what might have been. Every milestone in Adam’s life, every adult triumph and sorrow, every celebration and crisis, has occurred without his parents. Their love, guidance, wisdom, and presence have been gone, erased from existence since the night of their passing. When he’s spending time with the ghosts, they’re making up for lost time, trying to recover that which has been lost, but it’s still impossible to do so. Those years aren’t coming back.
The movie lives in that space of the “what could have been.” The score by Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch is gently melancholy, carrying a sense of wistfulness. The cinematography is amazing. The lighting bathes the settings and characters in such a way to make everything seem delicate, ephemeral. And, the actors bare their characters’ souls to each other. There’s no reason to keep things unsaid, no waiting for tomorrow. They have each other now, and no one knows what tomorrow will bring.
Now, I’m going to discuss spoilers.
In his final meeting with his parents, Adam takes them to a diner to have milkshakes. There’s something so painfully innocent about the setting and circumstances, in yet again this futile attempt to revisit a lost childhood. As they share goodbyes, his parents express hope and optimism for Adam’s relationship with Harry. Tears in his eyes, Adam is ready to open himself up again to love.
He goes to Harry’s apartment, calls his name, and no one answers. As he slowly makes his way through the apartment, a feeling of dread rises. He enters the bedroom, and, shot out-of-focus, is Harry’s decomposing corpse.
This whole time, Harry has been dead. The last time Harry was alive was the night of the alarm, when Harry asked to come inside, and Adam said no. After that evening, Harry succumbed to his loneliness.
Their relationship, too, has existed in the “what could have been.”
When Adam leaves the bedroom, he finds Harry, whom Adam now knows is a ghost. Harry seems to finally realize now too that he’s dead. He tries not to cry as he says that no one found them, that his family didn’t find him. If my memory serves me correctly, Adam says, “I found you.”
The final shot of the film is Adam holding Harry’s ghost in bed.
My first reaction to this twist ending was deeply conflicted. First, I was confused. I had to wrack my brain for the clues from earlier in the film that had set up this twist. I still couldn’t find them, and I had to read interviews with Haigh to understand when exactly Harry died.
This was a very unexpected and confusing ending, and I wonder if I was just oblivious to the hints throughout the film. I know I said earlier that I’m not sure I can watch this movie again because of its emotional power, but part of me wants to while keeping the final revelation in mind. Will this feel like an entirely different movie, like The Sixth Sense or Fight Club did for me on their second viewings? Then again, All of Strangers seems to have significantly different thematic concerns than those two earlier, twisty movies. They’re all films I adore, but they’re very different.
Despite my initial confusion, I have grown to appreciate the ending. One can read the ending as deeply tragic. Adam finally learns to love again, only to lose someone important to him once more. This is a reading I completely understand. It’s not one that I have, though. The film is not about the impossibility of love, but about its perseverance. Adam has been able to work through the death of his parents in order to love again. He will work through the loss of Henry, too, I’m sure of it.
Recently, a few close friends and I were discussing the novels we’re working on. The theme of love came up, and we agreed that love breaks you open. By this, love is intrinsically tied to vulnerability.
We love, and nothing lasts forever. Who and what we love may be gone before we are, and we will be left with the loss. That’s just the way life is, but this fact doesn’t make love any less vital. Adam’s life before Harry wasn’t really living, it was just getting by. We are capable and giving so much love, and to deny ourselves of this is to deny a vital part of life.
Adam will love again, I’m confident of it. There’s no going back.
It’s fitting that a film about love broke me open so utterly. What an incredible film.
Beautiful analysis
This a beautiful essay. Thanks for sharing this with all of us!