‘Peter Hujar’s Day’ Review: Ben Whishaw and Rebecca Hall Take an Illuminating Snapshot of a Queer Artist in Ira Sachs’ Gorgeous Character Study

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Jan 31

A Mesmerizing Glimpse into the Mind of an Iconic Photographer,

Led by Whishaw & Hall’s Transfixing Performances

Ira Sachs delivers one of his most uniquely constructed and emotionally resonant films with Peter Hujar’s Day, a delicate yet deeply layered portrait of the brilliant and enigmatic photographer. Through a rediscovered 1974 conversation between Hujar and his writer friend Linda Rosenkrantz, Sachs creates a film that feels like a time capsule, an intimate character study, and an evocative meditation on art, identity, and memory.

Led by the incomparable Ben Whishaw as Peter Hujar and Rebecca Hall as Rosenkrantz, Peter Hujar’s Day unfolds like a beautifully staged confession—at times playful, at times melancholic, but always illuminating. The film seamlessly blurs the lines between documentary and drama, using real-life transcripts to construct a fully realized moment in time. Sachs takes what could have been a static or purely conceptual exercise and transforms it into something deeply human.

At a mere 76 minutes, Peter Hujar’s Day might seem slight on paper, but in execution, it’s anything but. The film is built from the recently rediscovered tapes of a long, winding conversation between Hujar and Rosenkrantz for a book project that never came to fruition. Rosenkrantz had asked various artists to record the details of a single day, and Hujar’s recollections—from trivial encounters to artistic anxieties—become the foundation for this mesmerizing film.

The two friends discuss everything from mundane daily rituals (buying cigarettes, ordering Chinese food) to grander artistic concerns (how to be taken seriously in the New York art scene, the fleeting nature of recognition). Sachs allows these conversations to unfold naturally, and with Whishaw’s magnetic performance, even the smallest details feel charged with meaning.

One of the film’s funniest and most insightful sequences follows Hujar’s recounting of an uncomfortable photo session with Allen Ginsberg for The New York Times. Hujar, already self-conscious about his social standing, finds himself feeling completely alien in Ginsberg’s Lower East Side tenement, treated as if he doesn’t belong. The shoot itself is cold and impersonal, a far cry from the intimate and deeply felt portraits that define Hujar’s work. Whishaw plays the retelling with a perfect balance of wit and quiet exasperation, making it one of the film’s standout moments.

Other notable figures of the era make their way into conversation—Susan Sontag, William S. Burroughs, Lauren Hutton—each name serving as a reminder of the deeply interconnected nature of the downtown art scene. But despite these famous names, Peter Hujar’s Day is never about chasing celebrity; it’s about the often-overlooked artists who shape a culture without ever fully stepping into the spotlight.

Whishaw’s performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. He embodies Hujar with a loose, almost feline grace—chain-smoking, stretching languidly across the couch, moving through space with a confidence that feels performative yet deeply ingrained. There’s a contradiction in Hujar that Whishaw captures perfectly: he’s both self-assured and riddled with doubt, someone who desperately wants his work to be recognized but refuses to play by the industry’s rules.

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Hall, meanwhile, is the perfect counterpart. As Rosenkrantz, she is the steady presence in the room, warm but perceptive, encouraging but never intrusive. The chemistry between the two actors is palpable, making their conversations feel lived-in rather than reenacted. Every pause, every glance, every small movement between them adds to the film’s deeply immersive quality.

Sachs directs with an eye for subtle intimacy, using 16mm film to give the visuals a grainy, lived-in texture that perfectly complements the era. There’s a sense of quiet poetry in the way he frames his subjects, allowing them to exist within the space naturally, as if we’ve stumbled upon a lost moment from the past.

What makes Peter Hujar’s Day so special is its ability to make the past feel immediate. While it is undeniably a film about a specific person at a specific moment in time, its themes resonate far beyond its setting. Hujar’s fears—about artistic validation, financial insecurity, the impermanence of success—are just as relevant today as they were in 1974.

The film also carries an inherent sense of melancholy, given what we know about Hujar’s fate. His untimely death from AIDS-related complications in 1987 adds an extra layer of poignancy to his words. There’s something deeply moving about seeing him so full of life, discussing plans and ambitions that he never fully got to realize.

Yet, despite this underlying sadness, Peter Hujar’s Day is not a tragic film. It’s a celebration of an artist in his prime, a man who, for all his insecurities, lived fully and left behind a body of work that continues to inspire.

Ira Sachs has crafted something truly special with Peter Hujar’s Day. It is a film that feels both ephemeral and deeply lasting, capturing a fleeting moment with the kind of precision that makes it feel eternal. Anchored by two phenomenal performances, it is a mesmerizing, thought-provoking, and unexpectedly moving portrait of an artist whose work deserved more recognition in his lifetime.

For fans of Sachs, Whishaw, or anyone fascinated by the queer art scene of the 1970s, Peter Hujar’s Day is essential viewing. It’s a film that understands the power of small moments, of seemingly inconsequential details that, when stitched together, form something profoundly meaningful.