Brokeback Mountain
I finally saw Brokeback Mountain last night at the monthly Welcoming Congregation Committee movie.
It was a good movie, but I thought it dragged too much. Several times when a scene went on and on I thought, "Okay, we've got the idea, let's move on," which broke into my suspension of disbelief. Actually, I found suspension of disbelief unusually hard to sustain in this movie in general. I don't know if it came from having already read the Annie Proulx short story on which it was based and mentally comparing them, or the slowness of the movie, or my difficulty understanding Heath Ledger's clenched-jaw mumbling, or the nagging knowledge that the beautiful scenes were filmed in Canada, not on location in Wyoming, and wondering what Wyoming really looked like.
I know part of it was that all the actors were too pretty, particularly Ennis and Jack. Proulx described them as "high-school drop-out country boys with no prospects, brought up to hard work and privation, both rough-mannered, rough-spoken, inured to the stoic life," and as poor ranchhands and rodeoers they shouldn't have had perfect teeth, perfect unscarred faces, perfect healthy mesomorph bodies.
And in fact, Proulx's description of them wasn't pretty. "Jack seemed fair enough, with his curly hair and quick laugh, but for a small man he carried some weight in the haunch and his smile disclosed buckteeth, not pronounced enough to let him eat popcorn out of the neck of a jug, but noticeable. ... Ennis, high-arched nose and narrow face, was scruffy and a little cave-chested, balanced a small torso on long, caliper legs, and possessed a muscular and supple body made for the horse and for fighting."
It was especially distracting that neither of them aged over the course of 20 years. Jack filled out a bit around the waist and grew a mustache, but that was it, and Ennis didn't change at all. With the expertise possible with skilled makeup techniques, any actor can look any age, but Ennis went from 19 to 39 looking like he was about 24 the whole time.
But none of that stopped me from enjoying the film. The scenery was breathtakingly gorgeous, wherever it was; the dialog, when I could understand it, sounded genuine; and Jack and Ennis's hopeless love for one another was very real. I thought it was wonderful that the sex was downplayed as much as it was -- it was a story of star-crossed lovers, with little gratuitous sex except a few bare boobs thrown in apparently to secure the R rating or to keep the men in the audience awake (another distraction, since the nudity wasn't necessary to get the point across and the camera's lingering gaze on the breasts seemed beside the point).
We had an interesting discussion after the film, and then we cleaned up and went home. This morning I searched out a bunch of the Brokeback parodies, which I hadn't bothered looking at before because I wouldn't have gotten them.
It was a haunting movie. I reread the story a little while ago, and was surprised to find how faithful to it the movie was. I'm still pondering what it was like for a gay person in the 60's, even in liberal New York City where I only knew of one, a friend of a friend. He was essentially in the closet but my friend told us with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge that he was "a fairy." In those days that was the least pejorative appellation for a homosexual man. How much worse it must have been in the macho Marlboro Man culture of the cowboys.
It was a good movie, but I thought it dragged too much. Several times when a scene went on and on I thought, "Okay, we've got the idea, let's move on," which broke into my suspension of disbelief. Actually, I found suspension of disbelief unusually hard to sustain in this movie in general. I don't know if it came from having already read the Annie Proulx short story on which it was based and mentally comparing them, or the slowness of the movie, or my difficulty understanding Heath Ledger's clenched-jaw mumbling, or the nagging knowledge that the beautiful scenes were filmed in Canada, not on location in Wyoming, and wondering what Wyoming really looked like.
I know part of it was that all the actors were too pretty, particularly Ennis and Jack. Proulx described them as "high-school drop-out country boys with no prospects, brought up to hard work and privation, both rough-mannered, rough-spoken, inured to the stoic life," and as poor ranchhands and rodeoers they shouldn't have had perfect teeth, perfect unscarred faces, perfect healthy mesomorph bodies.
And in fact, Proulx's description of them wasn't pretty. "Jack seemed fair enough, with his curly hair and quick laugh, but for a small man he carried some weight in the haunch and his smile disclosed buckteeth, not pronounced enough to let him eat popcorn out of the neck of a jug, but noticeable. ... Ennis, high-arched nose and narrow face, was scruffy and a little cave-chested, balanced a small torso on long, caliper legs, and possessed a muscular and supple body made for the horse and for fighting."
It was especially distracting that neither of them aged over the course of 20 years. Jack filled out a bit around the waist and grew a mustache, but that was it, and Ennis didn't change at all. With the expertise possible with skilled makeup techniques, any actor can look any age, but Ennis went from 19 to 39 looking like he was about 24 the whole time.
But none of that stopped me from enjoying the film. The scenery was breathtakingly gorgeous, wherever it was; the dialog, when I could understand it, sounded genuine; and Jack and Ennis's hopeless love for one another was very real. I thought it was wonderful that the sex was downplayed as much as it was -- it was a story of star-crossed lovers, with little gratuitous sex except a few bare boobs thrown in apparently to secure the R rating or to keep the men in the audience awake (another distraction, since the nudity wasn't necessary to get the point across and the camera's lingering gaze on the breasts seemed beside the point).
We had an interesting discussion after the film, and then we cleaned up and went home. This morning I searched out a bunch of the Brokeback parodies, which I hadn't bothered looking at before because I wouldn't have gotten them.
It was a haunting movie. I reread the story a little while ago, and was surprised to find how faithful to it the movie was. I'm still pondering what it was like for a gay person in the 60's, even in liberal New York City where I only knew of one, a friend of a friend. He was essentially in the closet but my friend told us with a wink-wink-nudge-nudge that he was "a fairy." In those days that was the least pejorative appellation for a homosexual man. How much worse it must have been in the macho Marlboro Man culture of the cowboys.