Silent moves the feet of angels bright
I got into the first of what I hope will be many arguments about Brokeback Mountain a couple weeks ago. A prominent academic was hosting a dinner for a few of his son’s foreign friends, who were stuck in this foreign country with no family during Chinese New Year. A guy about my age, with whom I’d butted heads in the past, made the comment that he liked the movie, he supposed, but he wished they could have cut out some of the more graphic parts. I said that those parts were one of the most important parts of the movie, and pointed out what I believe is the incongruousness of the media’s presentations of straight and gay sex, and suggested that the idea of two men getting it on was something we were all going to have to get used to.
Of course, I have to admit that gay eroticism often makes me uncomfortable, as well. I started to become disturbed by this fact several years ago, for many different reasons, and I did a major project based on it my senior year in college.
What a terrible thing-that we react so strongly against images of gay sex. Could it be seen as the worst possible prejudice? Not just to think that someone is incapable, or inferior, or exotic, but to find this fundamental aspect of their identity physically disgusting. If you’re a man, even a straight one, isn’t that a prejudice against yourself in some way? Of course you can say that people don’t need to be liked, they need jobs, and gay people certainly aren’t at a disadvantage in that area-a British study recently showed (supposedly) that the average gay income is vastly higher than the national average. Anyway, I don’t really believe that. Especially in the US, where four for elections we’ve chosen men who think with their dicks and who “go with my gut”-clearly, we are a country of people to whom visceral reactions matter a lot. All of which I hurried to explain to the guy at dinner that night.
Having finally seen Brokeback Mountain, I wish I’d reacted more strongly.
Let me stick with the topic of sex for a minute. Usually, when the media portrays gay sex, it's sold either a freak show or a gay-rights parade. Even Six Feet Under was overly self-conscious, I think. But there was rarely anything mannered in the portrayal of Ennis and Jack's sex life. For this reason, the sex scenes in some way may have been the most interesting-or at least innovative-part of the movie. Lin Hwai-min, a writer and choreographer, once told me that good sex scenes were one of the hardest things to do in art. Brokeback Mountain's were filmed and presented in a way that reflects that this is gay sex, but doesn't necessarily say, "Hey, look, here are two gay men having sex! Isn't it shocking and edgy?!" or “Isn’t it gross?” or In your face!” It just seemed natural. It's how one might imagine gay sex scenes will look when and if gay sex scenes become accepted.
It's the fact that the movie assumes-or at least goes out of its way to seem to assume-that the audience will have no problem whatsoever with the central relationship (and not just in terms of sex) that is the most socially interesting aspect, in my mind. But as M put it, it’s about more than just convincing straight people not to be grossed out by gay people. Of course, at the same time it is that that allows it in the first place to be at least partially about convincing straight people not to be grossed out by gay people.
But I do agree wholeheartedly with M. This is not The Jungle. Brokeback Mountain is an extremely good movie apart from any social relevance. If we lived in an age where homosexuality was totally accepted, would it still deserve an Oscar? Maybe not. But maybe so. Anyway, you always get credit for doing things first, so that hypothetical isn’t much use.
As most of you probably know, Brokeback Mountain is based on “Brokeback Mountain,” a short story by Annie Proulx. I wasn’t a huge fan of The Shipping News, but I was sixteen when I read it, so that doesn’t mean much. Anyway, I liked “Brokeback Mountain” a lot, and I think that the movie lives up to it in almost every respect, and surpasses it in at least one important way. Proulx's womanness, I think, hurt the short story-there are a few key scenes where I thought, "So this is how women see men, huh?" But Ang Lee’s masculine touch managed to straighten some of that out. Not that he changed much of it necessarily (although the eviscerated lamb was a bit much)-just sort of clarified my reading.
It’s also interesting to me that this movie was based on a short story rather than a novel. For that reason, almost nothing was cut-in fact, some things were even added. The daughter, for one. I think the daughter may have been a bit too generous of an addition, actually. The short story begins and ends with Ennis living alone in a trailer, pissing in the sink and heating stale coffee in a frying pan. The daughter is not a part of his life at all, and there is certainly none of this business with her folded-up sweater paralleling the shirt. On the other hand, maybe this was an appropriate adaptation: does the world really need another mordant, depressing film about being gay? (The short story didn’t read as mordant or depressing, though . . . .) And in a film that manages to have this wide an appeal despite being about a gay relationship, would an unqualifiedly depressing ending come across as finger wagging?
On the other hand, I don't agree with the criticism that Jack and Ennis are "too perfect." It seems like such a silly assertion that I wouldn't even bring it up except that I just mentioned the movie perhaps being “too generous.”
As to Jack and Ennis’s flaws. Another friend of mine, C, wrote on this recently, so I’ve translated her brief essay here (read the Chinese if you can-it’s much better than my translation). I have a couple issues with it that I’ll address afterward, but I think it presents a very valuable reading in a better way than I could:
Neither the Western cowboy spirit nor the secret suffering of homosexuals is what makes Brokeback Mountain a moving film. Disregarding these more provocative elements, what underlies Brokeback Mountain’s emotional valance is something that we have all tasted: the pain of having made mistakes in love.
Mistakes, as often or not, are not entirely out own fault: the movie’s Jack has an overly stern father, and it is as though he can find no outlet for the passion contained in his thick eyelashes and full lips; Ennis, on the other hand, was brought up by his siblings after losing his parents-his cold, hard stubble and rough skin are accustomed to repression and hardship. As the two interact, the past sinks away and the future erupts, and the emptiness in their lives is filled in a way that owes neither to sex nor to understanding.
And so marrying and having children is not a problem-Jack and Ennis find the need to pursue each other again and again as they become suddenly conscious of their own emptiness.
This kind of love is frightening-any love in which one prays to be completed is a mistake. It endlessly digs out one’s insides, until there is nothing left of these two powerful men but husks fluttering in the wind. Jack’s emptiness is reflected in his patronage of male prostitutes and his drive to earn money. Ennis’s emptiness is reflected in his broken home and his impetuousness. Jack and Ennis’s several rendezvous a year become a kind of pressure as both the men change and they lose track of their earlier infatuation. And so Brokeback Mountain becomes “cold”-during their final meeting, the two cannot help but admit it. Jack looks for another man to fulfill his dreams. Ennis throws himself uncompromisingly into herding work. Sadly, fate is unwilling to let the men move into old age in peace-uncompromisingly, it snatches up Jack’s 39-year-old life. Now, things really are broken . . . .
All that’s left is to remember-under the starry sky, sheep billowing all around, encircled by a storm. Two men on their first night, burying youth, passion, and love together on this maimed and wild mountain. Twenty years filled with something more persistent than faith end with Jack’s death and Ennis’s single sentence: “Jack, I swear.”
Swear what? Not one thread of the shirt that was impulsively stained with blood that year still carries the scent of love.
- Cathy Regina Peng
M, who pointed out that this movie is more than a social statement, brought an interesting interpretation to my attention: that Jack and Ennis-especially Ennis-spend the whole movie in the strange (and, I’m told, agonizing) space between recognizing homosexuality as a behavior or a desire and as an identity (in fact, the emergence of homosexuality as an identity is relatively recent, and not universally seen as an advancement), which conflicts to a degree with C’s assertion that the “secret suffering of homosexuals” is not what gives Brokeback Mountain its power.
Isn’t it possible to combine these ideas, though? For me, one of the best lines in the movie was when Ennis shouts he’s heard what they have for “boys like you” in Mexico. Yes, Ennis’s inability to accept his homosexuality is painful, but more painful is that he uses this as a kind of weapon against Jack. "The secret suffering of homosexuals" is transfigured into something wholly personal.
Brokeback Mountain is good neither because of nor in spite of the fact that it presents a sexuality that continues to be marginalized. It’s good because, like all good fiction, concerns of narrative and aesthetic subordinate all other interests. To go back to where I began, look at the second sex scene in which Ennis enters the tent where we see the naked upper half of Jack’s body. It’s a beautiful scene, apart from any social ramifications it or its beauty might have, and it’s one in which this movie’s title becomes metafictional: for Jack and Ennis, Brokeback Mountain is a place removed from society, where they can enjoy something as beautiful as this scene, at least for a while, without thinking at all (as I write this, I think I finally understand Ennis’s reaction the morning after his first night with Jack); for us, Brokeback Mountain is meant to serve the same purpose.
p.s. And I’ve been reading a little Blake recently, so of course I was reminded of this poem by all the sheep, and by some other stuff as well:The sun descending in the West,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life’s river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o’er the fold.’
Of course, I have to admit that gay eroticism often makes me uncomfortable, as well. I started to become disturbed by this fact several years ago, for many different reasons, and I did a major project based on it my senior year in college.
What a terrible thing-that we react so strongly against images of gay sex. Could it be seen as the worst possible prejudice? Not just to think that someone is incapable, or inferior, or exotic, but to find this fundamental aspect of their identity physically disgusting. If you’re a man, even a straight one, isn’t that a prejudice against yourself in some way? Of course you can say that people don’t need to be liked, they need jobs, and gay people certainly aren’t at a disadvantage in that area-a British study recently showed (supposedly) that the average gay income is vastly higher than the national average. Anyway, I don’t really believe that. Especially in the US, where four for elections we’ve chosen men who think with their dicks and who “go with my gut”-clearly, we are a country of people to whom visceral reactions matter a lot. All of which I hurried to explain to the guy at dinner that night.
Having finally seen Brokeback Mountain, I wish I’d reacted more strongly.
Let me stick with the topic of sex for a minute. Usually, when the media portrays gay sex, it's sold either a freak show or a gay-rights parade. Even Six Feet Under was overly self-conscious, I think. But there was rarely anything mannered in the portrayal of Ennis and Jack's sex life. For this reason, the sex scenes in some way may have been the most interesting-or at least innovative-part of the movie. Lin Hwai-min, a writer and choreographer, once told me that good sex scenes were one of the hardest things to do in art. Brokeback Mountain's were filmed and presented in a way that reflects that this is gay sex, but doesn't necessarily say, "Hey, look, here are two gay men having sex! Isn't it shocking and edgy?!" or “Isn’t it gross?” or In your face!” It just seemed natural. It's how one might imagine gay sex scenes will look when and if gay sex scenes become accepted.
It's the fact that the movie assumes-or at least goes out of its way to seem to assume-that the audience will have no problem whatsoever with the central relationship (and not just in terms of sex) that is the most socially interesting aspect, in my mind. But as M put it, it’s about more than just convincing straight people not to be grossed out by gay people. Of course, at the same time it is that that allows it in the first place to be at least partially about convincing straight people not to be grossed out by gay people.
But I do agree wholeheartedly with M. This is not The Jungle. Brokeback Mountain is an extremely good movie apart from any social relevance. If we lived in an age where homosexuality was totally accepted, would it still deserve an Oscar? Maybe not. But maybe so. Anyway, you always get credit for doing things first, so that hypothetical isn’t much use.
As most of you probably know, Brokeback Mountain is based on “Brokeback Mountain,” a short story by Annie Proulx. I wasn’t a huge fan of The Shipping News, but I was sixteen when I read it, so that doesn’t mean much. Anyway, I liked “Brokeback Mountain” a lot, and I think that the movie lives up to it in almost every respect, and surpasses it in at least one important way. Proulx's womanness, I think, hurt the short story-there are a few key scenes where I thought, "So this is how women see men, huh?" But Ang Lee’s masculine touch managed to straighten some of that out. Not that he changed much of it necessarily (although the eviscerated lamb was a bit much)-just sort of clarified my reading.
It’s also interesting to me that this movie was based on a short story rather than a novel. For that reason, almost nothing was cut-in fact, some things were even added. The daughter, for one. I think the daughter may have been a bit too generous of an addition, actually. The short story begins and ends with Ennis living alone in a trailer, pissing in the sink and heating stale coffee in a frying pan. The daughter is not a part of his life at all, and there is certainly none of this business with her folded-up sweater paralleling the shirt. On the other hand, maybe this was an appropriate adaptation: does the world really need another mordant, depressing film about being gay? (The short story didn’t read as mordant or depressing, though . . . .) And in a film that manages to have this wide an appeal despite being about a gay relationship, would an unqualifiedly depressing ending come across as finger wagging?
On the other hand, I don't agree with the criticism that Jack and Ennis are "too perfect." It seems like such a silly assertion that I wouldn't even bring it up except that I just mentioned the movie perhaps being “too generous.”
As to Jack and Ennis’s flaws. Another friend of mine, C, wrote on this recently, so I’ve translated her brief essay here (read the Chinese if you can-it’s much better than my translation). I have a couple issues with it that I’ll address afterward, but I think it presents a very valuable reading in a better way than I could:
Neither the Western cowboy spirit nor the secret suffering of homosexuals is what makes Brokeback Mountain a moving film. Disregarding these more provocative elements, what underlies Brokeback Mountain’s emotional valance is something that we have all tasted: the pain of having made mistakes in love.
Mistakes, as often or not, are not entirely out own fault: the movie’s Jack has an overly stern father, and it is as though he can find no outlet for the passion contained in his thick eyelashes and full lips; Ennis, on the other hand, was brought up by his siblings after losing his parents-his cold, hard stubble and rough skin are accustomed to repression and hardship. As the two interact, the past sinks away and the future erupts, and the emptiness in their lives is filled in a way that owes neither to sex nor to understanding.
And so marrying and having children is not a problem-Jack and Ennis find the need to pursue each other again and again as they become suddenly conscious of their own emptiness.
This kind of love is frightening-any love in which one prays to be completed is a mistake. It endlessly digs out one’s insides, until there is nothing left of these two powerful men but husks fluttering in the wind. Jack’s emptiness is reflected in his patronage of male prostitutes and his drive to earn money. Ennis’s emptiness is reflected in his broken home and his impetuousness. Jack and Ennis’s several rendezvous a year become a kind of pressure as both the men change and they lose track of their earlier infatuation. And so Brokeback Mountain becomes “cold”-during their final meeting, the two cannot help but admit it. Jack looks for another man to fulfill his dreams. Ennis throws himself uncompromisingly into herding work. Sadly, fate is unwilling to let the men move into old age in peace-uncompromisingly, it snatches up Jack’s 39-year-old life. Now, things really are broken . . . .
All that’s left is to remember-under the starry sky, sheep billowing all around, encircled by a storm. Two men on their first night, burying youth, passion, and love together on this maimed and wild mountain. Twenty years filled with something more persistent than faith end with Jack’s death and Ennis’s single sentence: “Jack, I swear.”
Swear what? Not one thread of the shirt that was impulsively stained with blood that year still carries the scent of love.
- Cathy Regina Peng
M, who pointed out that this movie is more than a social statement, brought an interesting interpretation to my attention: that Jack and Ennis-especially Ennis-spend the whole movie in the strange (and, I’m told, agonizing) space between recognizing homosexuality as a behavior or a desire and as an identity (in fact, the emergence of homosexuality as an identity is relatively recent, and not universally seen as an advancement), which conflicts to a degree with C’s assertion that the “secret suffering of homosexuals” is not what gives Brokeback Mountain its power.
Isn’t it possible to combine these ideas, though? For me, one of the best lines in the movie was when Ennis shouts he’s heard what they have for “boys like you” in Mexico. Yes, Ennis’s inability to accept his homosexuality is painful, but more painful is that he uses this as a kind of weapon against Jack. "The secret suffering of homosexuals" is transfigured into something wholly personal.
Brokeback Mountain is good neither because of nor in spite of the fact that it presents a sexuality that continues to be marginalized. It’s good because, like all good fiction, concerns of narrative and aesthetic subordinate all other interests. To go back to where I began, look at the second sex scene in which Ennis enters the tent where we see the naked upper half of Jack’s body. It’s a beautiful scene, apart from any social ramifications it or its beauty might have, and it’s one in which this movie’s title becomes metafictional: for Jack and Ennis, Brokeback Mountain is a place removed from society, where they can enjoy something as beautiful as this scene, at least for a while, without thinking at all (as I write this, I think I finally understand Ennis’s reaction the morning after his first night with Jack); for us, Brokeback Mountain is meant to serve the same purpose.
p.s. And I’ve been reading a little Blake recently, so of course I was reminded of this poem by all the sheep, and by some other stuff as well:The sun descending in the West,
The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine.
The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.
Farewell, green fields and happy groves,
Where flocks have took delight,
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves
The feet of angels bright;
Unseen, they pour blessing,
And joy without ceasing,
On each bud and blossom,
And each sleeping bosom.
They look in every thoughtless nest
Where birds are covered warm;
They visit caves of every beast,
To keep them all from harm:
If they see any weeping
That should have been sleeping,
They pour sleep on their head,
And sit down by their bed.
When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
They pitying stand and weep;
Seeking to drive their thirst away,
And keep them from the sheep.
But, if they rush dreadful,
The angels, most heedful,
Receive each mild spirit,
New worlds to inherit.
And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Is driven away
From our immortal day.
‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, washed in life’s river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold,
As I guard o’er the fold.’