Bold, beautiful and utterly brilliant. Ang Lee's heartbreaking cowboy film is a vital meditation on love and longing, maleness and morality. A year on from the passing of its leading light, The Edge remembers one of the decade's most important films
An eloquently tender slice of American cinema, Brokeback Mountain is a film I've held close to my heart now for quite some time. Among other things, this delicately spun picture brought to my attention the skills of an enticing young actor who was fast becoming recognised as one of the finest his generation had to offer. Heath Ledger. A dynamic talent whose Oscar Nominated turn in Ang Lee's epic love parable proved he was, in fact, the real deal. Okay, he didn't win the award and Brokeback was erroneously pipped to the best picture prize by the pretentious Crash. But in 10, 15, 20 years time, Lee's spacious adap of Annie Prolux's short story will no doubt be remembered as the film of 2006. Perhaps even the noughties. And while Ledger's show-stopping spin on Lee Bermejo's retooled Joker maybe the role forever coupled with his name, I will always remember him as the man who played a prominent part in the conception of, quite possibly, the greatest love story of our time.
Set against the sweeping mountain vistas of Wymoing, Brokeback Mountain tells the tearful tale of Ennis Del Mar (Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal). Two twenty something ranch-hands who inadvertently forge a secret love affair in the summer of 1963 that, for all its twists and turns, snags, wrongs and rights, endures: emerging a subversive yet authentic testament to the power of love.
Spanning three arduous decades, Ennis and Jack's covert allegory is one awash with danger, deceit, thought, feeling, density and doubt that bobs and weaves from start to finish. In spite of their mutual affection, Ennis's repressed spirit and alpha-male tendencies obscure the two men's hopes of a happy life together. Jack is the beta and more in-touch half of the bond who, in time, comes to terms with who and what he is. But for Ennis, things aren't so easy. He's a cagey, conflicted and near- inaudible entity who's always quick to remind Jack that their country and culture has a "heterosexual or highway" policy that cannot be inverted.
Considered "alien" even now, homosexuality is outlawed in and around certain pockets of the U.S which is why controversy surrounded and continues to prod the picture three years on from its release. Given the underground credentials of art house autuers' Pedro Almodovar and Wong Kar Wai.Ang, Lee wasn't the first to tackle the theme head-on, but under the stuborn eye of the Hollywood mainstream's- he was. "The first time I read the script for Brokeback, I rejected it," he confessed. "The second time I read it I decided to do it for the exact same reason I'd rejected it before: no one was going to see it." Lee was right to some extent: the percentage of insular homophobes occupying the mainstream of the movie going world was and is, no doubt, large. But Brokeback is too good a film to take on board the criticism dished out by the obtuse. Wake up, smell the coffee. This film is a flat out triumph. A gracefully spun tear jerker with hope, pride and splendour to spare. Brokeback Mountain is one of the most important films to come out of America in living memory. One that compels, captivates, moves and inspires: it stuck with me for months after viewing it.
Much more than just a gay love yarn about two cowboys, Brokeback Mountain is a spectacle. A heart-wrenching morality play that has the power to reshape the notions and ideals of those who discard diversity. This is a film about love. Love that transcends gender, reason and the so-called "norms" laid down by a heterosexual world. Brokeback doesn't ask you to embrace homosexuality, but to understand it, to accept it. Discard it as an "issue", even, for love is an inescapable force that knows no bounds.
Ennis and Jack's same-sex relationship even defies relevance as the film flows towards a melancholic finale, paving the way for a full fledged romantic melodrama that has an unmistakable air of Romeo and Juliet about it. Gylenhall is fantastic, Ledger is a revelation. The late chameleon's pitch-perfect portrayal of a troubled father and husband torn between what he feels and what he thinks he should feel is as true, as touching and as potent as anything you're likely to see in cinema. Much like the film's breathtaking backdrop and photography. Brokeback looks magnificent. The jagged peaks, land; lake and sky-scapes together with the deftly plucked and strummed strings of Gustavoa Santliano's acoustic guitar mount towards one effortlessly potent motif: reminding the viewer time and time again of the men's rocky liaison; of the struggle, pain and care they both share. Brokeback Mountain is an emotive masterpiece. A truly special film that has the dexterity to stir, touch and even transform.
An eloquently tender slice of American cinema, Brokeback Mountain is a film I've held close to my heart now for quite some time. Among other things, this delicately spun picture brought to my attention the skills of an enticing young actor who was fast becoming recognised as one of the finest his generation had to offer. Heath Ledger. A dynamic talent whose Oscar Nominated turn in Ang Lee's epic love parable proved he was, in fact, the real deal. Okay, he didn't win the award and Brokeback was erroneously pipped to the best picture prize by the pretentious Crash. But in 10, 15, 20 years time, Lee's spacious adap of Annie Prolux's short story will no doubt be remembered as the film of 2006. Perhaps even the noughties. And while Ledger's show-stopping spin on Lee Bermejo's retooled Joker maybe the role forever coupled with his name, I will always remember him as the man who played a prominent part in the conception of, quite possibly, the greatest love story of our time.
Set against the sweeping mountain vistas of Wymoing, Brokeback Mountain tells the tearful tale of Ennis Del Mar (Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal). Two twenty something ranch-hands who inadvertently forge a secret love affair in the summer of 1963 that, for all its twists and turns, snags, wrongs and rights, endures: emerging a subversive yet authentic testament to the power of love.
Spanning three arduous decades, Ennis and Jack's covert allegory is one awash with danger, deceit, thought, feeling, density and doubt that bobs and weaves from start to finish. In spite of their mutual affection, Ennis's repressed spirit and alpha-male tendencies obscure the two men's hopes of a happy life together. Jack is the beta and more in-touch half of the bond who, in time, comes to terms with who and what he is. But for Ennis, things aren't so easy. He's a cagey, conflicted and near- inaudible entity who's always quick to remind Jack that their country and culture has a "heterosexual or highway" policy that cannot be inverted.
Considered "alien" even now, homosexuality is outlawed in and around certain pockets of the U.S which is why controversy surrounded and continues to prod the picture three years on from its release. Given the underground credentials of art house autuers' Pedro Almodovar and Wong Kar Wai.Ang, Lee wasn't the first to tackle the theme head-on, but under the stuborn eye of the Hollywood mainstream's- he was. "The first time I read the script for Brokeback, I rejected it," he confessed. "The second time I read it I decided to do it for the exact same reason I'd rejected it before: no one was going to see it." Lee was right to some extent: the percentage of insular homophobes occupying the mainstream of the movie going world was and is, no doubt, large. But Brokeback is too good a film to take on board the criticism dished out by the obtuse. Wake up, smell the coffee. This film is a flat out triumph. A gracefully spun tear jerker with hope, pride and splendour to spare. Brokeback Mountain is one of the most important films to come out of America in living memory. One that compels, captivates, moves and inspires: it stuck with me for months after viewing it.
Much more than just a gay love yarn about two cowboys, Brokeback Mountain is a spectacle. A heart-wrenching morality play that has the power to reshape the notions and ideals of those who discard diversity. This is a film about love. Love that transcends gender, reason and the so-called "norms" laid down by a heterosexual world. Brokeback doesn't ask you to embrace homosexuality, but to understand it, to accept it. Discard it as an "issue", even, for love is an inescapable force that knows no bounds.
Ennis and Jack's same-sex relationship even defies relevance as the film flows towards a melancholic finale, paving the way for a full fledged romantic melodrama that has an unmistakable air of Romeo and Juliet about it. Gylenhall is fantastic, Ledger is a revelation. The late chameleon's pitch-perfect portrayal of a troubled father and husband torn between what he feels and what he thinks he should feel is as true, as touching and as potent as anything you're likely to see in cinema. Much like the film's breathtaking backdrop and photography. Brokeback looks magnificent. The jagged peaks, land; lake and sky-scapes together with the deftly plucked and strummed strings of Gustavoa Santliano's acoustic guitar mount towards one effortlessly potent motif: reminding the viewer time and time again of the men's rocky liaison; of the struggle, pain and care they both share. Brokeback Mountain is an emotive masterpiece. A truly special film that has the dexterity to stir, touch and even transform.