Brokeback Mountain of Filler
I considered including my mother-in-law’s review of Brokeback Mountain, but I realized that several paragraphs about the film being a horrible movie because two star-crossed gay cowboys had graphic gay-male sex would probably be inconsistent with the overall plot.
Honestly, I was completely uninterested in viewing this film, but not because of the homosexual subject matter. I find any western or cowboy-themed film to be boring unless Clint Eastwood has accumulated a significant body-count in it. But against my better judgment and at Bookie’s insistence, we made Brokeback Mountain an at-home date movie.
Brokeback Mountain is about two men who fall in love and partake in a twenty year love affair that endured, despite living in an intolerant culture where revealing their taboo love could be dangerous for them. With that in mind, I’ll have to divide this review into pre-and-post-intercourse. Prior to their first sexual encounter, this film plodded along in such a ho-hum manner that I began dozing-off. Brokeback lasted a total of 136 minutes, but I could have sworn that three hours of my life were wasted in the first few segments alone, watching rolling hills and flocks of sheep grazing as wispy clouds drifted overhead. I realize that they were going for the cinematography awards, but these panoramic views would have been better suited if they had content pertaining to the plot (more on this later).
Then, just as I began to make myself comfy for a nap, BAM! Butt-sex. Not to follow my mother-in-law’s example of bashing gay sex, but it really just seemed to sneak up on me. I sat up and exclaimed, "Bookie, what happened? How did they get to this?" She just shrugged and suggested that we rewind to where I dozed-off, which we did.
This time, I made sure to pay attention, but the result was similar. Instead of heading up to guard the sheep, Ennis (Heath Ledger) stayed at base-camp with Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal). They both shared a flask of whiskey, then BAM! Butt-sex. I’m not even kidding. It was just that abrupt. Now, when I watch a love story, regardless of gender involvement, I expect to see some buildup of physical or emotional connection. Even on those "love at first sight" occasions, which I’m assuming is where the director was attempting to go with this, there’s a special something in the air that lets the viewer know that, "Hey, those two really like each other. There might be some penetration in the near-future." Brokeback completely missed the mark here, which would have made the rest of the movie implausible if I hadn’t forced myself to ignore the apparent lack of romantic courtship.
Fortunately, after I pressed my "I believe" button, the film picked-up as Ennis and Jack both came to terms with their love for one another and struggled with "normal" lives between trysts. Both men end up marrying women and bearing and raising families, but their love endured all of this. Unfortunately, living in the rural south in a masculine, homophobic, intolerant culture where overt homosexuality was normally greeted with disdain, violence or worse, I realized that this film could only end two ways. Either they part ways unhappily, never to fulfill their love for each other again, or one or both of them fall victim to a hate-crime. Either way, what we have is a tragic ending, which is not the ideal way to end a date movie, unless a frozen Leonardo DiCaprio is being pried from a piece of driftwood to sink with the Titanic. Any scene that kills-off DiCaprio is a money-shot to me, regardless of subject matter.
That’s it. This is the last straw. Bookie doesn’t get to pick the next film. The next one’s on me.
1)Story: C (Implausible buildup, predictably tragic ending.)
2)Acting: A (I thought they were really into each other.)
3)Visuals: C (The rolling hills and sheep put me to sleep.)
4)Originality/Innovation: A
5)Enjoyability Grade: C
6)Date Material: F (Did I mention that the ending is tragic?)
7)Contemporary Element (Will it be watchable two decades from now?): C
8)Overall Grade: C
***
Blind Eye Turning: Poems, Prose, and other Scribbles, by Barry Dawson
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