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How did being queer look like in the modernist and postmodernist literary eras? As a child, I was hypnotized by the works of W. Somerset Maugham, E. M. Forster, and Tennessee Williams. I could always sense the hidden elements in their characterizations and subtexts. Their novels and plays contained characters who were imprisoned within themselves. None of them ever openly came out of the closet in their lifetime. Yet, time has been kind to their legacy. In filmmaker Will Seefried’s Lilies Not for Me, history hits us in the gut. Inspired by a horrifying chapter that Walter Jackson Freeman II single-handedly wrote in gay history, the film traverses through the life of a young author.
Before Maugham and Williams, Oscar Wilde (also a gay icon) in his brief yet celebrated life championed the Aesthetic Movement. The lily symbolized purity, rebellion, and feminine beauty among aesthetes. That possibly explains the title of Seefried’s film aside from the passage Owen (Fionn O’Shea) reads to a man. The film swings back and forth between timelines (splendid work by editor Julia Bloch) to give us a glistening account of queer love and an account of the dubious conversion therapy in the early 19th century. Lilies Not for Me begins in an asylum for gay men where the nurses work as “dates” to get these men back on track. Owen is lucky to have Dorothy (Erin Kellyman) – a good-hearted nurse who is new to both romantic novels and dating.
The universe Lilies Not for Me creates in the flashback portions is straight out of a Maugham or Forster novel. Be it the quaint cottage Owen lives in, the meadows, the trees, the free expression of love, or the intimate nature of the rooms and the yard filled with flowers – the film is a visual manifestation of Wilde’s movement. Not only are the walls filled with aesthetic art, but the supple nature of Theodosia Roussos’ music, too, contributes to weaving a world that is too beautiful to be true.
When Owen gets Philip as a guest, the surroundings get more intimate. A medical student, Philip is convinced homosexuality is a sickness that ought to be treated. In what possibly is a harrowing stretch to sit through, life changes for Philip. In a fleeting exchange between Owen and him, Philip (a medical doctor) places God over science – a statement that the former corrects. And just like that, what could have been a magical love story falls like nine pins.
In comes Charlie, a charming man who is a lot more in sync with his queer identity. The man names his wife as his best friend and it does not take him long to forge a bond with Owen. Seefried’s film, in no time, becomes a triangular romance that brims with two possibilities – one of rebellion and another of violence.
Cut to the present, the radicalist staff at the infirmary are no less dastardly than Nurse Ratched. The syringes are mercilessly pricked. The doors are lashed, never gently closed. Without a typewriter and with a mind that seethes with anger, Owen endures relentless abuse.
Lilies Not for Me is not only a DOP and production designer’s delight but also the writer’s tour de force. When the film opens with a “based on historical facts”, it realizes the responsibility it embraces. Seefried’s documentation of an era of horrifying crimes against LGBTQIA+ angers us no end. The opening credits feature a quote from ‘Curing Queers’ which holds relevance a century later.
The actors dress magnificently in crisp shirts, fitting pleated trousers and coats. Seefried’s portrayal of nudity is both aesthetic and liberating. The intense closeup of the leads’ skin in contact is never meant to titillate. They might as well work as independent art pieces with a brave new language.
Playing the lead, Fionn O’Shea with his porcelain skin and dove-like eyes is a striking picture of vulnerability. The actor navigates complex and physically vexing scenes with a veteran’s assuredness. His chemistry with his male co-actors adds further sheen to the film. Robert Aramayo paints the scheming Philip with the right shades of mystery and toxicity. Louis Hofmann, in a brief yet pivotal part, is a gorgeous man – right out of aesthetic art. The stunning Erin Kellyman is wonderfully cast as an oasis of kindness in a discriminative, no-gay-man’s land.
Lilies Not for Me is meticulously researched. In the process, it tenders a century-old apology to gay men. It chronicles a series of events that cannot be undone but can only be viewed with dazed eyes, severe highs, and oodles of empathy for the men who persisted in a barbaric era. Will Seefried’s film (which I missed at NewFest 2024) deserves wider showcasing and may its IFFI gig skyrocket its reach to cinema lovers and gay activists in Asia.
Rating: ★★★★
Lilies Not for Me was screened at the 55th International Film Festival of India (IFFI, Goa).
