A man meets another man in the summer of 1963 when
they are chosen to be partners for a sheepherding job.
They fall in love. Years pass and each marries into a
standard family unit, only escaping to see each other
for an occasional “fishing trip” once in awhile. They
live lives of longing, yearning to express what they
feel for each other, and cannot stand not being able to
do so. The story doesn’t endorse their homosexuality or
their straying from their families—in fact, if anything,
it condemns it—but instead functions as a testament to
the fact that forcing people against their wills
(whether self-made or not) to conform to traditional
values creates a deterioration in those traditional
values rather than an enhancement of them.
This story, titled Brokeback Mountain after
the location that the two men—Ennis Del Mar (Heath
Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal)—spend their
life-defining summer on together, has been brought to
the silver-screen by the passionate and firm voice of
director Ang Lee. The movie takes on the form of a Great
American Tragedy, in more dimensions than one. First and
foremost, it is a heartbreaking display of the withering
devastation of Ennis and Jack’s families as they try to
keep their secret quiet. Not to mention, it is also
obviously tragic for the men themselves: they long to
merely be who they believe themselves to be, but instead
are forced to lie their ways out of doing so. And,
perhaps most importantly, Brokeback Mountain is a
testament to the 1960’s society’s failure to function
properly, with the people and the government having
radically different agendas from each other.
The film has been the object of controversy since
its Best Feature win at the Venice Film Festival last
summer, when the mere idea of making a “gay cowboy
movie” seemed shocking to just about everyone who heard
about it, even the most open-minded of moviegoers. Now
that Brokeback Mountain is here, and the
frontrunner to win the Academy Award for Best Picture—a
title which it may or may not be deserving of—it will be
easier for the average viewer to dismiss the propaganda
surrounding it. However, in stating this, I don’t mean
to imply that this propaganda won’t cease to exist
anymore: the extremist homosexual movement will always
be eager to praise it and the staunch morals of the
Right will be equally as quick to condemn it. Of course,
this is all rather silly, given the fact that these
characters’ sexualities are neither endorsed nor
disapproved of by Lee or the screenwriters, Diana Ossana
and James Schamus.
While very finely assembled by Lee, who has
certainly proven himself over the years to be a master
at what he does, Brokeback Mountain’s true power
and atmosphere lies in its performances. Ledger and
Gyllenhaal collide (literally) with a chemistry that is
so incendiary that it hammers home the fate of the final
act in a way that is indescribably powerful. But, even
so, the real miracle of the film is Michelle Willaims, a
relatively unknown actress who plays Ennis’ wife with
such beautiful and relatable truth that it would be a
crime to deny her of the Best Supporting Actress Oscar
for her work. She is the heart of Brokeback Mountain’s
social themes.
While unfortunately the most misunderstood film of
2005, Brokeback Mountain is, at its core, a
treasure of a movie, defined by its ability to show
empathy for all of its characters to provide an
ultimately heartbreaking view of a controversial time in
America. As the plot unfolds and the beautiful Gustavo-Santoalalla-scored
soundtrack reaches its crescendo, viewers will not only
be touched, but they will be observant of what is
unfolding. This, in itself, makes Brokeback Mountain
the powerful motion picture that it is.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews