A Couple of Light Thoughts on Brokeback Mountain

We saw Brokeback Mountain awhile ago, and it’s been beating the shit out of me ever since because, like a good film is supposed to, it splits you open and leaves you trying to gather your own emotional entrails for a week or so.

In the end, I decided I had just a couple of points to make about it. First, I hear a lot of people saying “this isn’t a gay movie.” That bugged me before I saw it. After all, what is a “gay movie”, anyway? Philadelphia? The Bird Cage? But whatever a gay movie is, Brokeback Mountain ain’t it, according to them. No. What it really is, they say, is a love story, and a tragic one.

As if it couldn’t be both a gay movie and “just” a love story. One or the other. Pick.

Now, I think there are several different reasons why people say “it’s not a gay movie,” but the one I’m talking about reflects a certain truth – that it’s just never occurred to a lot of people that a pure love story could be about two people of the same sex.

And once that occurs to you, well then wow. You’re in a whole new world, Junior. What these folks are finding is that they relate to Jack and Ennis – and their tragedy – as just people in love, and not as GAY PEOPLE in love, and therefore it isn’t a gay movie. I see this disconnect as a salutary development, in a way. People are finally – finally! – seeing the love, instead of their bias.

But part of me still hates it when someone says “Oh no, it’s not a gay movie!” (with the unspoken “don’t worry!”) Well, folks, it patently is a gay movie, and I’m not going to cheat my gay friends out of one of the most compelling love stories ever made by denying it. So, it is a gay movie, dammit.

But then again, it isn’t. It isn’t a gay movie, in the sense that there are several themes running through this film, and the gayness of the main characters is only one of them. And it’s probably not the most important one, though it’s related to the most important one, which is what happens when you can’t, don’t, or don’t know how to live authentically.

While it’s clear that Ennis deeply feared violence should he openly acknowledge his relationship with Jack, that’s not the whole story. He didn’t just keep his homosexuality on a short leash – he rationed himself every feeling, every joy, and every human connection on the stingiest terms.

I don’t think it’s an accident that Ennis and Jack came together “out there,” or – as the overused and insufficient cliché goes – “in nature.” John Muir said, “fears vanish as soon as one is fairly free in the wilderness.” Things get genuine. Because that’s all there is.

Aside from the interpersonal, the film itself is awesomely gorgeous, with the Rocky Mountains of Alberta standing in for Wyoming. I know it’s a cliché, but see it on the big screen if you can. The soundtrack is masterful, and I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed Willie Nelson’s music as much, or Emmylou Harris's. (And that’s saying a lot.) But if you’re not willing to let yourself be a little bit emotionally hijacked, maybe you should skip it until you are. Or maybe you should just go anyway.