2005 will be defined as the year of "Brokeback Mountain." Undoubtedly, when film historians consider the year that was 2005, they will immediately point out that it was the year that America embraced Ang Lee's quiet, melancholy epic about the forbidden love of two gay cowboys. They will remember Lee's elegant, nuanced direction. They will remember Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger's brave and earnest performances. They will remember it as a watershed moment in the history of gay cinema.
There are certain things, though, that these historians won't remember — things they probably should remember, since these are going to be the things that cost "Brokeback Mountain" the ultimate prize — the Oscar for Best Picture.
They won't remember, for example, how everybody made fun of the film's painfully earnest catchphrase, "Wish I knew how to quit you!" and how, for a period of time in early 2006, 82 percent of all jokes told somehow revolved around two gay cowboys (the other 18 percent were about hunting with Dick Cheney)
They won't remember the film's seemingly endless press tour, where the stars appeared on every glossy morning magazine show to relentlessly whore out this deeply personal film. They won't remember those painfully awkward moments on the press tour, where all the actors sat around a table and we had to listen to Gyllenhaal and Ledger tell giggly stories about what it was like to kiss each other, only to segue into a conversation about Ledger's (straight) love for his co-star Michelle Williams. People also won't remember how out-of-place Williams and co-star Anne Hathaway seemed (in a movie that features two terrific performances by the leads, Hathaway and Williams seem more like two teenyboppers playing dress up).
These are all things that they should remember because, in the end, these are going to be the reasons that "Brokeback Mountain" will lose Best Picture to "Crash" next Sunday, thus costing the movie a place in history. It will still be remembered as an important film, of course, but won't be remembered as a best picture winner, which will be a serious knock against it for years to come. Whenever anybody talks about it, the first thing anybody will ever talk about is how the movie couldn't get over that final hump and bring home the gold.
Make no mistake about it — in the coming weeks and years, people aren't going to be talking about how "Crash" scored the most stunning comeback victory in the history of the Academy Awards, but, rather, how "Brokeback Mountain" melted down at the finish line.
How, you may ask, could the movie about cowboys NOT win Best Picture in what may go down in history as the year of the gay cowboy movie? Very simply, Jack and Ennis aren't the same gay cowboys they were two months ago. Their mystique and legend has been swept away by the winds of over promotion and public ambivalence.
In December, nobody had really seen "Brokeback Mountain," and those who had spoke about it in hushed, reverential tones. By God, it was art! This was the first mainstream Hollywood movie to take a gay love story and tell it straight (no pun intended).
Back then, the big question, whether critics actually wanted to articulate it (most didn't because of the tricky political ramifications), was how much of an uproar the film would cause in the red states. The assumption, from people I talked to, at least, was that the movie would play well on the coasts, bringing in the target audience of liberal bourgeois. The great fear was that there would be some sort of Middle American uprising against Jack and Ennis — apparently because of the assumption that nobody outside New York or L.A. has ever met a gay person.
In the weeks before Christmas, critics, advocacy groups and publicists were rushing to defend the movie from what they saw as an impending onslaught from outraged family groups. Focus sent the four leads out to aggressively hustle the movie to try and stem what looked like the inevitable revolt against Hollywood. The cultural vultures at Fox News were there, of course, to fan the flames, and Bill O'Reilly confidently predicted that the movie wouldn't play in the Heartland. We were at the brink of cinematic armageddon. All of this before anybody outside of New York or Los Angeles had even seen the film.
And then a funny thing happened. People saw the movie and — gasp! — the world kept right on spinning. It didn't change the public discourse, for better or worse. There were no riots in cities where the film played. We didn't enter into a heartfelt national dialogue about gay rights. It was just another movie. A lovely, well-made movie but, in the end, still just another movie. This is the reason the public has gone to see it in droves and, coincidentally, is also the reason it is not going to win Best Picture.
You see, when the movie was generating controversy, it was trendy and bold to come out in defense of "Brokeback Mountain." By supporting it, you were doing your part for Art, valiantly doing battle against the cultural philistines who wanted to squash the movie. In the end, though, the American public cut through the debate by actually going out and seeing the movie. Supposedly, the White House even got a copy. The response was generally positive, but also curiously muted: People liked the movie but then dismissed it. The only way the movie stayed in the public consciousness was through the jokes, which have gotten to the point of being a cultural phenomenon, far beyond the reach of the movie itself. Commercial success has marginalized the film's artistic merits.
Academy voters are now reexamining the candidates for Best Picture and, by and large, are finding that "Crash" may indeed be the best of all the nominees. Here is a movie with life. It is a living, breathing, gloriously flawed movie that captures America in action. Director Paul Haggis paints in broad, decisive, strokes. This is all in sharp contrast to the small, focused nature of "Brokeback Mountain," a movie with themes as big as life itself, yet one that tells a story on a frustratingly small scale. "Brokeback" is all precision and control, whereas "Crash" is all about passion. Passion usually wins out.
When "Brokeback" loses, the inevitable discussion will be about why it didn't win Best Picture, which will probably start the controversy all over again. In doing so, people will probably raise some of the points I have already made. Allow me to add just one more: maybe "Crash" really is a better movie than "Brokeback Mountain." Maybe this wasn't really the year of gay cowboys at all but, rather, was a year for everybody in America to take stock of themselves and their country. In comparison with "Crash" (and, to a lesser degree, "Munich" and "Good Night, and Good Luck"), "Brokeback Mountain" doesn't even register. It's a lovely little romp through the countryside of good intentions, but in the end, it is a shockingly irrelevant contribution to a year full of risky filmmaking. We are living in a dangerous time that calls for dangerous movies, and frankly speaking, "Brokeback Mountain's" 15 minutes are just about up. It's time to get serious.
Ray Gustini is a freshman majoring in political science and history. He can be reached for question or comment at [email protected].
