brokeback mountain and reviews and signal wyoming

The first reviews of this Ang Lee film, before its showings had broken out of the narrow worlds of NYC and LA, were almost universally positive. Here was a movie whose unlikely theme, the romance between two gay WY cowboys beginning in the summer of 1963, was hitting the streets just at the right time--as the debate on the status of gay couples was at a fever pitch across the nation. Now that the movie is in the provinces, however,* and the rest of

[*except for Utah, apparently, where its showing in a SLC theater chain controlled by Utah Jazz owner Larry Miller was pulled because of public protests--though not, one would think, before the thought of gay cowboys from a neighboring state coupling had sliced its way into the Utah psyche]

us have had a chance to see it, it can be recognized as a good movie, probably 3.5 on a scale of 5. It skillfully explores themes of memory and societal compulsion, with an occasionally brilliant performance (Heath Ledger), but mostly presents actions and conversations that plod rather than skip.

Social Plate Tectonics

What struck me while watching Brokeback Mountain, however, is that this movie partakes of what I would call the movement of the "social plates" in our society in the past few months, and even the past few weeks. That is, if we look at the change in American cultural values as a sort of "social plate tectonics," we can almost hear the plates moving now in a number of issues. First, the Roberts and, even more, the Alito confirmation hearings convinced me that Roe v. Wade, that 1973 US Supreme Court decision legalizing abortion because of a right to privacy found in the US Constitution, is safe. Courts may try to whittle away at it yet more, or find notification requirements constitutional, but the basic premise of a woman's ability to choose an abortion will not be successfully assailed. I think this is the result of the gradual dawning that a 33-year precedent is a very long precedent, one that is getting longer all the time.

The second movement of the social plates I have heard comes from the decision handed down two days ago by the US Supreme Court which invalidated AG John Ashcroft's attempt to threaten Oregon's doctors who prescribed life-ending medication under Oregon's Death with Dignity Act with loss of their medical licenses. Through this decision, Americans will gradually begin to realize that just as one now has in America the freedom to choose one or six wives (serially, however) or one or six careers, one ought to be able to choose the time and manner of one's death, if death is certain within a specified time. Choosing when to die will soon be recognized as a cherished American freedom.

Finally, Brokeback Mountain mainstreams intimate gay relationships through the portrait of the (at first) reluctant, but torrid, intimacy of Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist. We might say that those relationships have been generally accepted in the past several years outside of some socially or religiously conservative belts in our country, but with the push for gay marriage in the past few years in San Francicso, MA, Multnomah County (OR) and a few other places, the debate has risen to a new level. States have passed constitutional amendments forbidding gay marriages, but "civil unions" and "shared benefits" are now issues of discussion in most places. One couldn't have imagined a "mainstream" film like Brokeback appearing even five years ago in our society.

Other Themes

But the movie is successful not simply because it reflects the movement of "social plates." It forces us to think again about memory, and the relationship of memory to choice and compulsion. What is it about '63? It was during 1863 that OW Holmes, Jr. was injured for the last time in the Civil War, and in his later reflections as a mature man he would point to that time as "when our hearts were touched with fire." And, then, it is "late December 1963" that gave the setting for The Four Seasons' "Oh What a Night." It was during the summer of 1963 on Brokeback that the bodies and souls of Ennis and Jack cleaved, and no one was able to break them asunder. But as is the case for so many important events in life, as Marilynne Robinson skillfully points out in Gilead, the revelatory character of it only dawns on us several years later. The event, as it were, becomes or grows into a revelation, becoming the vehicle for grace or, more usually, incredible pain. Memory is the means by which that event of the past becomes stiched to the soul and begins to loom in our consciousness with as much jagged power and prominence as Brokeback Mountain itself.

Memory often grows slowly, though life has to be lived rather quickly. Hormonal demands, social pressures, and personal expectations mean that life-decisions have to be made even as the memories are trying to congeal in our mind. And so, gay people marry (and will continue to do so), have children, become productive members of a community, and live their lives as good citizens while the memory, working by an inner compulsion not controlled by the actor, begins to build within. And, when memory begins to build, it can become like a Mount St. Helens of the soul, with pressure build-up that can at first be sensed only by the soul's vulcanologists, but eventually will erupt for all to see. And, this is certainly not an experience unique to gay people. Most, if not all of us, made crucial "life decisions" before the power of memory had let images from our deep past come together in our mind. We lived (and we live) with decisions of those years (even if it isn't 1963), though our memories want to impress other patterns and rhythms on us.

Conclusion

And so we are rived when we would rather cleave, we are isolated when we would rather join, we enter into our secret lost worlds and relive our times, and cry our hearts out, and then realize that it is 2006, and we have to face tomorrow. Brokeback Mountain's gratest contribution was helping to reignite the glowing embers of memory.

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