I wish I knew how to quit you
Dec. 20th, 2005 12:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grrgoylLast night finally, after hardships unnumbered, I got to see Brokeback Mountain. Trying to get there was unnecessarily complicated because a.) it opened in Denver in only one theater, b.) this is my last week of freedom before the insanity that is RGIS January begins Dec 26, c.) all my companions that wanted to go with me were being flaky and refusing to pin down an actual date. Ryan really wanted to go, but alternated between pleading poverty while maintaining the charade that there still might be a chance (three conversations later I FINALLY got him to come out and admit that he really, really had to save his money. Apparently for drinking with Tabby. Don't get me started). Tery was pretty ambivalent. *SIGH* I really have no problem going to the movies alone, I do it more often than not, but after inviting so many people it only seemed fair to try my best to include them.
Ultimately it was Deb and I yesterday afternoon at a matinee. "Don't worry," I assured her. "Who goes to the movies at 3:30 on a Monday?" Ha ha, you can see where this is going. When we got there at about 3:10 the line was already down the sidewalk to the next block. I loved seeing all those people there, though. I want this movie to do really well. I want the religious fascists to realize they damn well aren't the only ones living in this country, and that plenty of people can deal with the sight of a couple of guys kissing just fine. (The answer to "Who wants to see guys kissing, ew?" is "Oh, me, yes please.")
We got to the ticket counter at about 3:35, so opted for the 4:00 show instead. With plenty of time to spare, I took a picture of the screen:
This is the historic Mayan theater, built in 1930, restored to its former glory in 1986, one of 3 movie arthouses in Denver. You can't tell from this crappy photo, but the wall sconces are little Aztec idols. It's got a lot of character.
For the most part, the theater was full of considerate people, foremost of which was the woman who sat in front of Deb but offered to scrunch down for her. This is my reasoning...people who wait in line for a half hour in the cold are there to SEE the movie, not chat through it, a refreshing change of pace. And I didn't even have a kicker, astounding considering the seats had all the leg room of coach class on a plane. Also being on the end we had to stand up a few times to let people in and out, and every time they were extremely apologetic, not that we minded at all.
(I suppose it goes without saying that there were many gay boys and girls there. Lots of flamers, a couple of stone butches. I wonder if anyone assumed Deb and I were a couple.)
Which isn't to say everyone had such impeccable manners. There was a woman directly across the aisle who opened up her cell phone about 30 minutes into the film, and kept it open so long I swear she was conducting an entire text message conversation with someone. People, it doesn't matter how hard you try to shield your phone - in a dark theater that light is like the fucking sun peeking in, okay? She kept opening it at regular 15-minute intervals until I was ready to thwack her on the head with it.
Which was still better than the guy a few rows behind her who had some kind of snack in a plastic bag and just COULD NOT LEAVE IT ALONE. He rustled that bag CONSTANTLY through the entire movie. This is a very quiet movie. No big action scenes, not even any music to speak of. And the theater, while boasting stunning architecture, is not equipped with stereo speakers, so all the sound was limited to the screen. The woman behind us commented on Mr. Bag loudly, which frankly was more disruptive than the bag itself. "What is that NOISE?" she asked no one in particular. Later, "Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. Finally, she turned to the guy and asked, "Will you give the damn bag a rest???!!??" Unfortunately she did it at a moment when people were laughing (I missed what they were laughing at because of her outburst) and I doubt the guy even heard her. I was hoping she'd get up and tie that bag around his neck but she didn't. Is anyone working on developing movie food and containers that are a little quieter? Perhaps this is my calling in life?
Matters weren't helped by the fact that the Mayan sells beer as well. Not a good idea, in my opinion, which I feel was supported when at a particularly touching, still moment, someone dropped their bottle and it rolled noisily all the way down to the front of the theater, while some people twittered. Jesus Fucking Christ on a bicycle. I hate you. I hate you ALL.
But enough about that.
I'm not sure where to begin. The movie starts out actually kind of slow and boring, which I was willing to tolerate based on the promise of imminent hot gay sex (call me shallow, see if I care. I never claimed sweeping, epic but boring cinematic masterpieces were my thing). I'll admit, even the hot gay sex was a tad disappointing. The review I read that warned it lasted all of a minute and a half sure wasn't kidding. It was brief, poorly lit and highly improbable. Any gay male readers out there are free to dispute me, but I find it a little hard to believe that two guys, especially two straight guys (although Jake's character might have some experience, it's never explained) would proceed directly to the bareback riding right off the bat, without even so much as a kiss in the way of foreplay. And I've suspended a lot of disbelief in my years of movie watching, but by no stretch of the imagination can you tell me that doing it with just a mouthful of spit for lube was remotely pleasurable.
The sympathy pains this scene inspired aside, my other complaint was that it came out of nowhere. I didn't pick up a single clue hinting that these guys had so much sexual tension and frustration built up that this brutal, awkward interlude was a natural progression. Maybe I've been reading too much slash fiction, but I like a story to work towards the hot gay sex after sufficient angst, longing and unrequited desire have been well established.
Fortunately this movie isn't about sex, it's about the tragedy of spending your life apart from your soulmate because of society's intolerance (but sadly that 90-second scene mentioned above is guaranteed to keep away people who could really stand to have their minds opened about the ability of gays to form lifelong bonds). The cowboys try to go about living "normal" lives, but it's painfully clear the emotional toll taken by trying to deny their nature. It was heartbreaking to see Ennis (Ledger) going through his days numbly, until Jack (Gyllenhaal) visits 4 years later; his excitement is palpable and the way he springs to life without any thought about what it looks like to his wife is a little uncomfortable to watch. Perhaps unfairly, the women are portrayed as one-dimensional, shrill cows, but still. There was some inappropriate laughter I thought, at the scenes when the boys are caught kissing by first the ranch foreman, then by Ennis' wife (Michelle Williams). Perhaps it's a testament to how far we've come that this is seen as slightly comical these days, but in the context of the movie this was no laughing matter. The reactions of the foreman and the wife embodied society's views on homosexuality at the time, and the reason why our two heroes couldn't be together the way they should have been.
I thought it was interesting that Jack, the dreamer that wants to settle down with Ennis, ironically manages to keep his marriage together (with the help of occasional side trips to Mexico to pick up male prostitutes), while Ennis, who staunchly opposes living with a man and the stigma that entails, ends up divorced and alone and in the perfect position to fulfill this dream if he wasn't so afraid.
When I heard this was a tragedy, I hoped and prayed the tragedy was that they both lived out their lives apart. But I had a strong suspicion the tragedy would be a hate crime. Unfortunately, my fears were correct. But the scene of the crime itself was so short and tastefully done that even MyFriendDeb, who has zero tolerance for violence of any kind (she can't even watch the news), didn't mind it. The rehearsed, almost bored way Anne Hathaway's character tells Ennis about it (or at least the more socially acceptable version) helps cement your hatred for these women, in case you didn't get the point already through their cardboard characterizations.
The moral of this tale (along with Boys Don't Cry) I'm taking to be is that if you're gay and live in a region where cowboy hats and boots are a daily wardrobe staple, just move.
I wondered why Heath Ledger was nominated and not Jake, but after seeing the movie it's pretty obvious. His performance was nothing short of powerful. This nomination isn't just an obligatory sympathy vote for gays. I never thought the sight of simply a man buttoning up a shirt on a hanger could reduce me to sobbing tears, but he did it. God, I'm crying a little right now just remembering it. For the final 5 minutes of the movie there was plenty of telltale sniffling throughout the theater, and mercifully they didn't bring the house lights up right away, leaving people to stumble out in the pitch black. Deb and I sat there, dabbing at our faces with tissue (which she thoughtfully provided). The closing credits rolled to two songs, Willie Nelson doing "He Was a Friend of Mine" (you can imagine how perfectly the lyrics fit) and something by Rufus Wainwright, neither of which was doing anything to help us pull ourselves together. As we walked out of the theater, we noticed the line for the 7:00 show again stretched down the sidewalk, and around the building.
This is a 5 out of 5, undeniably. Go see it and deliver a one-two punch to the wingnuts.
ADDENDUM: Hateful people (who haven't seen the movie) whose kneejerk reaction is to think the hype and nominations are only because the movie is "gay" are every bit as bad as the alleged award-givers who they believe are handing out nominations as a kneejerk reaction to the movie being "gay." Does that make sense? I came across one bitter blogger who actually said something like, "Maybe King Kong should have been a gay love story so it would do even BETTER at the box office." Oh, shut up. You, sir, should have your blogging rights suspended until you can pull your foot out of your mouth. Or your head out of your ass.
Ultimately it was Deb and I yesterday afternoon at a matinee. "Don't worry," I assured her. "Who goes to the movies at 3:30 on a Monday?" Ha ha, you can see where this is going. When we got there at about 3:10 the line was already down the sidewalk to the next block. I loved seeing all those people there, though. I want this movie to do really well. I want the religious fascists to realize they damn well aren't the only ones living in this country, and that plenty of people can deal with the sight of a couple of guys kissing just fine. (The answer to "Who wants to see guys kissing, ew?" is "Oh, me, yes please.")
We got to the ticket counter at about 3:35, so opted for the 4:00 show instead. With plenty of time to spare, I took a picture of the screen:
This is the historic Mayan theater, built in 1930, restored to its former glory in 1986, one of 3 movie arthouses in Denver. You can't tell from this crappy photo, but the wall sconces are little Aztec idols. It's got a lot of character.
For the most part, the theater was full of considerate people, foremost of which was the woman who sat in front of Deb but offered to scrunch down for her. This is my reasoning...people who wait in line for a half hour in the cold are there to SEE the movie, not chat through it, a refreshing change of pace. And I didn't even have a kicker, astounding considering the seats had all the leg room of coach class on a plane. Also being on the end we had to stand up a few times to let people in and out, and every time they were extremely apologetic, not that we minded at all.
(I suppose it goes without saying that there were many gay boys and girls there. Lots of flamers, a couple of stone butches. I wonder if anyone assumed Deb and I were a couple.)
Which isn't to say everyone had such impeccable manners. There was a woman directly across the aisle who opened up her cell phone about 30 minutes into the film, and kept it open so long I swear she was conducting an entire text message conversation with someone. People, it doesn't matter how hard you try to shield your phone - in a dark theater that light is like the fucking sun peeking in, okay? She kept opening it at regular 15-minute intervals until I was ready to thwack her on the head with it.
Which was still better than the guy a few rows behind her who had some kind of snack in a plastic bag and just COULD NOT LEAVE IT ALONE. He rustled that bag CONSTANTLY through the entire movie. This is a very quiet movie. No big action scenes, not even any music to speak of. And the theater, while boasting stunning architecture, is not equipped with stereo speakers, so all the sound was limited to the screen. The woman behind us commented on Mr. Bag loudly, which frankly was more disruptive than the bag itself. "What is that NOISE?" she asked no one in particular. Later, "Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. Finally, she turned to the guy and asked, "Will you give the damn bag a rest???!!??" Unfortunately she did it at a moment when people were laughing (I missed what they were laughing at because of her outburst) and I doubt the guy even heard her. I was hoping she'd get up and tie that bag around his neck but she didn't. Is anyone working on developing movie food and containers that are a little quieter? Perhaps this is my calling in life?
Matters weren't helped by the fact that the Mayan sells beer as well. Not a good idea, in my opinion, which I feel was supported when at a particularly touching, still moment, someone dropped their bottle and it rolled noisily all the way down to the front of the theater, while some people twittered. Jesus Fucking Christ on a bicycle. I hate you. I hate you ALL.
But enough about that.
I'm not sure where to begin. The movie starts out actually kind of slow and boring, which I was willing to tolerate based on the promise of imminent hot gay sex (call me shallow, see if I care. I never claimed sweeping, epic but boring cinematic masterpieces were my thing). I'll admit, even the hot gay sex was a tad disappointing. The review I read that warned it lasted all of a minute and a half sure wasn't kidding. It was brief, poorly lit and highly improbable. Any gay male readers out there are free to dispute me, but I find it a little hard to believe that two guys, especially two straight guys (although Jake's character might have some experience, it's never explained) would proceed directly to the bareback riding right off the bat, without even so much as a kiss in the way of foreplay. And I've suspended a lot of disbelief in my years of movie watching, but by no stretch of the imagination can you tell me that doing it with just a mouthful of spit for lube was remotely pleasurable.
The sympathy pains this scene inspired aside, my other complaint was that it came out of nowhere. I didn't pick up a single clue hinting that these guys had so much sexual tension and frustration built up that this brutal, awkward interlude was a natural progression. Maybe I've been reading too much slash fiction, but I like a story to work towards the hot gay sex after sufficient angst, longing and unrequited desire have been well established.
Fortunately this movie isn't about sex, it's about the tragedy of spending your life apart from your soulmate because of society's intolerance (but sadly that 90-second scene mentioned above is guaranteed to keep away people who could really stand to have their minds opened about the ability of gays to form lifelong bonds). The cowboys try to go about living "normal" lives, but it's painfully clear the emotional toll taken by trying to deny their nature. It was heartbreaking to see Ennis (Ledger) going through his days numbly, until Jack (Gyllenhaal) visits 4 years later; his excitement is palpable and the way he springs to life without any thought about what it looks like to his wife is a little uncomfortable to watch. Perhaps unfairly, the women are portrayed as one-dimensional, shrill cows, but still. There was some inappropriate laughter I thought, at the scenes when the boys are caught kissing by first the ranch foreman, then by Ennis' wife (Michelle Williams). Perhaps it's a testament to how far we've come that this is seen as slightly comical these days, but in the context of the movie this was no laughing matter. The reactions of the foreman and the wife embodied society's views on homosexuality at the time, and the reason why our two heroes couldn't be together the way they should have been.
I thought it was interesting that Jack, the dreamer that wants to settle down with Ennis, ironically manages to keep his marriage together (with the help of occasional side trips to Mexico to pick up male prostitutes), while Ennis, who staunchly opposes living with a man and the stigma that entails, ends up divorced and alone and in the perfect position to fulfill this dream if he wasn't so afraid.
When I heard this was a tragedy, I hoped and prayed the tragedy was that they both lived out their lives apart. But I had a strong suspicion the tragedy would be a hate crime. Unfortunately, my fears were correct. But the scene of the crime itself was so short and tastefully done that even MyFriendDeb, who has zero tolerance for violence of any kind (she can't even watch the news), didn't mind it. The rehearsed, almost bored way Anne Hathaway's character tells Ennis about it (or at least the more socially acceptable version) helps cement your hatred for these women, in case you didn't get the point already through their cardboard characterizations.
The moral of this tale (along with Boys Don't Cry) I'm taking to be is that if you're gay and live in a region where cowboy hats and boots are a daily wardrobe staple, just move.
I wondered why Heath Ledger was nominated and not Jake, but after seeing the movie it's pretty obvious. His performance was nothing short of powerful. This nomination isn't just an obligatory sympathy vote for gays. I never thought the sight of simply a man buttoning up a shirt on a hanger could reduce me to sobbing tears, but he did it. God, I'm crying a little right now just remembering it. For the final 5 minutes of the movie there was plenty of telltale sniffling throughout the theater, and mercifully they didn't bring the house lights up right away, leaving people to stumble out in the pitch black. Deb and I sat there, dabbing at our faces with tissue (which she thoughtfully provided). The closing credits rolled to two songs, Willie Nelson doing "He Was a Friend of Mine" (you can imagine how perfectly the lyrics fit) and something by Rufus Wainwright, neither of which was doing anything to help us pull ourselves together. As we walked out of the theater, we noticed the line for the 7:00 show again stretched down the sidewalk, and around the building.
This is a 5 out of 5, undeniably. Go see it and deliver a one-two punch to the wingnuts.
ADDENDUM: Hateful people (who haven't seen the movie) whose kneejerk reaction is to think the hype and nominations are only because the movie is "gay" are every bit as bad as the alleged award-givers who they believe are handing out nominations as a kneejerk reaction to the movie being "gay." Does that make sense? I came across one bitter blogger who actually said something like, "Maybe King Kong should have been a gay love story so it would do even BETTER at the box office." Oh, shut up. You, sir, should have your blogging rights suspended until you can pull your foot out of your mouth. Or your head out of your ass.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-20 09:30 pm (UTC)Uh-no. But it's getting good reviews. It seems like such a stupid concept. Alas, it's showing at our art theater too, so I will wait for rental.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-20 09:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-20 11:12 pm (UTC)There was some inappropriate laughter I thought, at the scenes when the boys are caught kissing by first the ranch foreman, then by Ennis' wife (Michelle Williams). Perhaps it's a testament to how far we've come that this is seen as slightly comical these days, but in the context of the movie this was no laughing matter.
I'm hearing many reports of laughter in theaters for the Alma-seeing-them scene; my showing had it too. I think it was a kneejerk reaction and people didn't realize at first that it wasn't meant to be funny . Orrrrr also maybe it's gay-men-laughing-at-the-dumb-straight-chicks stuff ;-P
The moral of this tale (along with Boys Don't Cry) I'm taking to be is that if you're gay and live in a region where cowboy hats and boots are a daily wardrobe staple, just move.
HAHA, seriously.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-20 11:35 pm (UTC)(that icon is adorable, btw)