Fraulein N was kind enough to remind me that I was going to write about the time I saw Brokeback Mountain. And, to be honest, it wasn't going to be so much of a review as an anecdote. So, Fraulein, I hope I don't disappoint.
(However, the likelihood is high that I have already, many times over and in many other situations, so... just chalk this up as another one of my things. Come on, you love me 'cause I'm cheeky and I flake out on shit like this at random, right? Right?)
And, if you haven't seen the movie, please don't give me the added guilt of ruining the story for you if you are going to see the movie. Even though I'm really not going to go into the detail of the movie, if you would, divert your eyes from this post. Maybe weave me something nice.
Memorial Day weekend was quite busy. Early on Saturday morning, the fam saw my Mom off to her flight to Connecticut, where she was going to spend a week tending to my sick uncle. Later that morning, I found myself in the middle of Hurricane Sarah (or, as Danhole simply calls her, Jibber-Jab Sarah), sitting at Kelly's, trying to eat brunch and comprehend everything she said. Hell, if you think I run the Tangent Marathon, this lady runs the Tangent Triathlon. Yowza.
After brunch, I headed over to Shannon's to witness the wonderment that is young Gavin, her newborn son, who at the time was a little over two weeks old. Now, the thing about Shan is that previous to her mommyhood (does using that word make me sound like an asshole?), she was the first person I'd think of as a supporting argument for not having children at my age. This was merely because she works quite successfully in our chosen profession, is a couple of years older than me, and had not yet spawned. (As it stands, I find it increasingly difficult to use other friends of mine as examples of non-parenthood in order to justify 1) my nonexistent dating life and 2) my stubborn insistence on not making my parents happy grandparents like all of my aunts and uncles are just yet.) My options for a supporting argument are dwindling down, as everyone seems to be blasting babies out of their hoo-hahs faster than you can get me to sing along to "Fire Water Burn." Not that there's anything wrong with blasting babies out of your hoo-hah. Not at all! Don't get it twisted, boo.
And by the way, yes, I am the root of all that's evil. Yeah, and you can call me "Cookie."
Anyway, back to the 'back. I spent most of that day over at Shannon's. Her hubby, Cowboy Jesse, seemed relieved that I had shown up and thus prevented the whole family expedition to the Home Depot, and he happily went about his chores for the rest of that afternoon. The dogs were more than happy to get some more attention, Shan was glad that she didn't have to haul the baby out in the heat and humidity, and Gavin was happy to do the things two week old babies do best: poop and sleep.
And let me tell you, the young man is a champ at both. Oh, he's just like his daddy!
We spent a good amount of time just catching up on things, admiring the Coach diaper bag that the Cowboy, in a fit of uncharacteristic girliness, bought for Shannon, and lounging about. At one point, we figured we should watch a movie, so we went down the list of available movies to order "On Demand." We decided we were not in the mood for Narnia, or Jarhead (now, we both wanted to see Jarhead due to the whole Gyllenhaaliness of it, but decided that the Cowboy would want to see it too, and it was probably not a great movie to be watching with your slumbering tot only yards away from the speakers).
We settled on Brokeback, because we both wanted to see it, and we knew we couldn't get any of the straight guys we know to watch it with us. We would've asked our gay guy friends, but of course, you know by the time it hits "On Demand," they've all seen it in the theaters. Because they're good little gays, and we are horrible little heteros, of course. (Many apologies on behalf of myself and Shannon. You guys must be so disappointed.)
We managed to watch the whole movie, despite interruptions from our cells and some serious bouts of mid-movie snacking. And I think it was a wondrous movie, but I have a dilemma. I do have a positive opinion of the movie, but feel weird saying that I "enjoyed" it. As much as I was moved by the story and the acting, I was pretty depressed at the end. Love that you fight for, struggle with, wrap yourself in, but ultimately cannot have, and everything that goes with that, is not a theme that makes you want to go to all of your friends and say, "Hey, I've got an idea... we're bored, and want to have a good time; let's watch Brokeback!"
Nevertheless, I thought it was a very good movie. I washed a bit of that lingering Havoc aftertaste (so difficult to get rid of) away with Anne Hathaway's portrayal of Lureen (although, this is yet another movie where she gets all randy in the backseat of a car and rips her top off... I think she was a little amped to shrug off that Princess cape there for a while). For once, I didn't think of Michelle Williams as Slutty Jen from the Creek. Those ladies made me hurt a little for the both of them, not to mention their husbands. Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal looked so... tortured. So yeah, I was affected by the movie. And it made me angry that those themes, those taboos, persist to this day.
I don't expect to change it. I know that everyone is entitled to their opinion of what's right, what's wrong. Lisa went into great detail about this same theme a few weeks back. When I read that entry then, this movie immediately came to mind. As did every loving relationship I have ever been in, been aware of, or witnessed, gay or straight.
So yes, if "enjoyed" translates to "affected me," then I did enjoy this movie. Despite Heath Ledger mumbling every line so thickly that I thought Ennis Del Mar was a long lost relative of Karl Childers.
Oh, here comes my horrible stream-of-consciousness... I just thought of a great collaborative effort that could meld the worlds of Karl Childers and Ennis Del Mar! A work that would swirl together the themes of murder, love, passion, stigma, and the tenets and taboos of homosexuality! Ready to hear the title?
Slingback Mountain.
I know, I know. I'm probably going to hell.
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