*Only some minor ‘spoilers’…don’t stop yourself!* 

Gazing across the London skyline from a small high-rise bedroom. Surrounded by millions of strangers, yet feeling inadequate and alone. This is something many of us will experience at some point in our lives – I know I have – and this opening image focuses the viewer’s outlook perfectly. Where or when this occurs varies, but that sense of isolation amongst the busyness of day-to-day life can leave us asking ourselves similar questions. Questions about our past, present and future. For Adam (Andrew Scott) – a queer forty-something freelance scriptwriter – such questioning stems from his experience of two intertwined childhood traumas; the sudden death of his parents, aged 12, and the impact of the often implicit but impactful culture of homophobia and toxic masculinity which they imposed upon him from a young age.  

Central to All of Us Strangers (AOUS) runs a core life lesson that is often hard to reckon with against our past – but, if internalised, can set many of us free to live more fulfilling and happy lives in the present: when we allow ourselves to become all consumed by past mistakes we can risk neglecting the joys, opportunities and ultimately, the people, right in front of us. That being said, the film equally portrays how taking the time and care to work through the tricky questions of our past will be an important part of the healing, allowing us to move forward.  

When skimming through recent reviews of AOUS, I noticed many came from the perspective of queer men who grew up in 1980s England, at the height of the Aids “epidemic” and the fear-induced media and social frenzy that came with it. I wanted to listen to these voices. As someone who has only recently outwardly recognised their own queerness, ahead of writing this piece, a part of me questioned whether I was really ‘qualified’ to do so. But this made me consider how sometimes our perceptions of past identities or experiences do not for a minute invalidate our interpretations of new ones. And this, I believe, goes to the heart of this deeply personal film.  

The intricate and brutally honest look into the romantic connection (and disconnection) between Adam and Harry (Paul Mescal) demonstrates that while our individual journeys may be wholly unique – the raw emotions we experience along the way – are often held in common with those around us. In the case of Harry, he is a younger queer man who wasn’t around during the horrors of the 1980s when Adam was growing up. But in openly relating to the shared effect of Adam’s pain, Harry is able to comfort him through empathy, gentle acts of kindness, and ultimately “death-defying love” for him.  

The redeeming result of Adam’s questioning of his past, present and future leads him to recognise these qualities in Harry and open up his soul to be purged of the” hooded claws” of his past, despite initially neglecting his sixth-floor acquaintance. But is it too late? Harry too has got “vampires” at his door.  

Image: Unsplash