Considering the unpredictability of Ang Lee’s previous filmic ventures: middle-class melodrama, high-wire Kung-Fu drama, English period-drama, and less successfully, the ‘Giant-Green-Man Drama’, it’s perhaps not such a stretch for Lee to opt for ‘shepherding-homosexual-drama’ as the choice for his latest; a tale of forbidden love against the oppressive homophobia of Southern America, 1963.
Wisely released in time for an Oscars shoe-in, Brokeback Mountain started its life as a short story by E. Annie Proulx published in The New Yorker magazine, before reportedly shifting its way around Hollywood and eventually falling into Ang Lee’s lap. Lee, who worked on the screenplay for The Ice Storm and Sense and Sensibility, seemingly relishes the sparseness of the original story, giving him license to accentuate the film’s melancholic ambience with long ponderous shots of picturesque settings, and of Brokeback Mountain itself, which Lee intended to be a character in its own right.
Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger)’s romance is made awkward by their own masculine upbringing, Jack is the idyllist wannabe rodeo star and Ennis is the monosyllabic ranch-hand passing through their lives unfulfilled until their illicit love is, unexpectedly, consummated during a cold night in a make-shift tent. This initial, semi-inebriated, fumble is what may cause controversy among the liberally challenged, but this is undeserving, as the scene aims for gauche accuracy and not explicitness. The morning after, the initial sexual act is received with confusion, both characters struggling to come to terms with what had happened. “I ain’t queer” states Ennis, “neither am I” retorts Jack.
The film revolves around this initial exploration into manly love, even
when the two return to their homes (both starting and eking their way
through dead-end jobs and failing marriages) the love for each other
remains potent throughout long periods apart, which is perhaps why the
suddenness of their initial actions cuts the audience short. If we were
to believe their love was to stay brewing secretly for a further twenty
years, the film perhaps would benefit from further emphasis on the start
of their relationship on Brokeback Mountain. Nevertheless, to the films
credit the actors give brutally realistic performances, either attempting
to re-affirm their masculinity through lashing out violently at one another,
or starting street fights to articulate their inner torment.
The long-suffering wives; Alma (a post-Dawson’s Creek Michelle
Williams continuing her excellent choice of film roles) and Lureen (Anne
Hathaway in a successful transition from Disney starlet to fully-fledged
actress) give the film credence and solidarity where it is needed. Not
quite so well done is the aging process the characters go through, Jack
growing an unfortunate grey-twanged moustache, and Ennis talking to his
nineteen-year-old daughter, to whom there can be very little age difference.
Also, Heath Ledger's take on Southern mumblings occasionally scrapes
the other side of coherent, but ultimately his performance is exceptional
and is the driving force throughout the film.
At a tad too long at 134 minutes, Brokeback Mountain embellishes a natural melancholy and sombreness of forbidden love, longing, anger and frustration, and does so remarkably well. Credit must be given to the two leads that have strength enough to portray their controversial relationship tenderly and convincingly.