But for a handful of scenery changes, a few thoughtful pauses coloured by dramatic gothic music, and occasional interjections from Rebecca Hall’s Linda Rosenkrantz, Peter Hujar’s Day is really one great monologue of just over an hour delivered by Ben Whishaw as the titular character. It’s an excuse really to show off the dedication of his performance stamina and acting capacity, and that’s not a bad rationale for a movie by any means. James Whitmore got an Oscar nomination for essentially doing just that in Give ‘Em Hell, Harry! -adapted from a one-man show about Harry Truman. But director Ira Sachs doesn’t just make this movie a filmed version of a one-man show; though she doesn’t speak nearly as often, Hall’s performance as Linda is essential to the piece -not just as someone to give licence to this talk but to allow it the casual air of two friends and not just an interviewer and her subject.
The origin of the film is very fascinating. In 1974, Rosenkrantz, a nonfiction writer in the New York art scene, embarked on a project to record her various artist friends talking in detail about a day in their lives for the purposes of a book which ultimately never materialized. One of her early subjects was acclaimed photographer Peter Hujar, and while their recording was lost, a transcript was uncovered in 2021 and subsequently published as Peter Hujar’s Day. And Sachs has now translated that record by recreating the interview itself, set entirely in Rosenkrantz’s apartment as Hujar talks through the details of a day in his life.
By his standards, it is a fairly mundane day, which Whishaw articulates through an air of exhaustion in recollection. But it is also a day featuring encounters or conversations with the likes of Susan Sontag, Allen Ginsberg, Vince Aletti, Glenn O'Brien, and other figures of the 1970s New York art and culture scene, unspecified but in whose circles Peter travels and carries with him a host of gossip and observations. He shares with Lisa these little idiosyncrasies and opinions as dressing to his story in that manner anyone might when discussing a mutual associate, she occasionally interjecting her own comment of interest or affirmation.
And it is the naturalism of this dynamic and in Peter's language that gives the film a spark. It might appear to be impromptu if not for the fact much of Sachs's screenplay is surely taken directly from the transcripts, with Whishaw and Hall embodying these figures and their casual relationship firmly in translating their dialogue. It takes approximately two days to get through the whole story and yet it never feels like a hassle for either of them. Early on, Peter asks if the level of detail he's providing is appropriate, worried it might be too boring. Lisa remarks that it is not boring to her, and they continue on in a very loose manner. And it's not just what Peter says but how he says it, and how Lisa responds -verbally or not. A pause or inflection or a particular attitude in description -even some stumbling over words or conscious mistakes in the storytelling speak to perfectly captured organic rhythms and a comfortable chemistry between the performers.
In these details, Whishaw carries the film comfortably, playing this character’s style and attitude very tangibly while suggesting the nuances of his personality. Perhaps not the most charismatic individual, his attention to his craft comes through as do his curious thoughts and feelings on those in his social circle. He deftly belongs to this time and place. The body language too though plays to a certain anxiety and loneliness, through immense comfort in Lisa’s presence -several parts of the interview are conducted with him or the both of them lying down -she cradles his head at one point. It is entirely platonic -Peter was very openly gay- but the casual intimacy reveals through an otherwise emotionless delivery of facts a perfectly casual tenderness and trust in their relationship, that Lisa is naturalistically receptive to.
Lisa is again a necessary part of the movie even if she appears not to do a whole lot. She is a comforting presence who sometimes even encourages the direction of Peter’s account and is an affirming soundboard to his statements. Hall plays well her responsiveness, her engagement with his narrative, even if she is not commenting on it -though when she does you are immediately conscious of her appropriated thick Brooklyn accent. As an interviewer she is conscientious and accommodating, never trying to manipulate a narrative. As a friend she is warm and trusting.
Peter’s story has its pinpoints of interesting flavour, such as when he speculates about a woman living with Peter Orlovsky -Ginsberg’s lover- or posits on a missed opportunity that would have seen him working with William S. Burroughs, or when he just meanders on the photography business and his own work, even the process of developing photos for books, galleries, and other such clients. There are a couple moments that are even a little foreboding, and the operatic music during interstitial beats adds to this effect. At one point, Peter bemoans his newfound near-sightedness and need for glasses -it is a small thing, but Peter Hujar passed away from AIDS in 1987, and a deterioration of vision is a symptom that has been linked to the disease.
It is one of those notes that reinforces something powerful in just the dim reflection on a day. Much as Peter may not think it was very interesting, Linda -and the audience- disagrees. Though he may not talk about it in such terms, opining on strange characters and interactions and minor annoyances, it reveals how distinct and fascinating a life he leads, in the circles and relationships of peculiar though significant people. But celebrity connections aside, there's something profound too in just the details he provides in small activities like making breakfast. You find yourself thinking about your own everyday life and perhaps the little beauties in it. And you understand the purpose of Linda's prerogative.
That her book never saw the light of day is something of a shame, but its spirit I think is palpable in Peter Hujar's Day. Sachs understands its curiosity and its gravity, re-enacting a conversation frozen in time that says a little something about that world and the people who moved within it that a more ordinary story wouldn't grasp. The film is a bit dreary and dry by design, and parts of the conversation aren't exactly riveting -but Sachs allows it some dynamism and Whishaw in particular keeps you invested. A record as much as a movie, but one that argues well for its own value.
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