Review of the film Tangerine

“Merry Christmas Eve, bitch.”*

     Shot entirely with an iPhone, Tangerine weaves and threads through the streets of West Hollywood following transgender prostitutes Sin-dee Rella (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) and Alexandra (Mya Taylor). It’s Christmas Eve, and Sin-dee has just been released from a 21-day jail stint. And she’s fuming because rumor has it her boyfriend/pimp Chester has been cheating on her with a fish — or cisgender woman to those who aren’t in the know. So while her best friend Alexandra keeps pleading for “no drama,” Sin-dee stomps around the neighborhood looking for Chester and Diane, Denise, or Deena — whatever the bitch’s name is — to extract some answers and maybe some vengeance. Their paths continuously intersect with other pimps, prostitutes, police officers, johns, and a myriad of West Hollywood locals. The camera also follows an Armenian cab driver named Razmik (Karren Karagulian) who appears to have a thing for Sin-dee and not much love for his wife, mother-in-law, and baby at home attempting to celebrate the holiday. 

    This all might seem a touch frenetic, which it surely is. But this engaging drama and its subsequent hilarity sometimes pause and allow for quieter, more tender — and equally captivating — moments between characters, ones in which we glimpse the depth of who these individuals are as human beings. Beneath the fevered bravado and tough performance, Sin-dee and Alexandra are characters with desires and hopes for themselves and one another. It’s something to see a film in which these women — characters that are normally marginalized and mocked in most popular media — are shown, simply and powerfully, with their humanity on full, technicolored display. 

*dialogue from the film

Review of the television series Jessica Jones: Season 1

  

"Would you put day drinking under experience or special abilities?"*

     Jessica Jones is a bitch. And I mean that as a true compliment. Another superhero show but one in which the hero would really rather not, this series allows its female lead to be complex — messy in all senses of the word. Jessica is crass and rude, a bit of a slob and alcoholic, emotionally distant, moody, impulsive, and rash. In other moments, she's brave and honest, vulnerable yet strong, and good. She's a hero whether she wants to be or not, and she's also a complicated human being.

     Operating within the same New York City as that which was leveled by Marvel’s Avengers in their epic battle against Ultron, Jessica Jones works as a lowly private investigator — creeping in the shadows taking photographs of cheating spouses and hitting the bottle pretty hard in between jobs. She has powers, or special abilities, that she would rather keep concealed, as well as a nasty case of PTSD inherited from a past trauma involving the erroneous use of those abilities.

     The clearly evident feminism running through the show is just as complex as its hero. And it isn't perfect either. For every instance in which the episode plot easily passes the Bechdel test — possessing more than one female character and having them talk to one another about something other than the men in their lives — one can’t help but notice the nearly complete lack of women of color among these characters. But while there are bones to pick aplenty, there is real, sincere effort within to tell feminist-inspired stories — show women who, despite monstrous challenges, have true agency in creating their own narratives.

     One of the most salient themes throughout this first season is that of domestic violence. And Jessica, even with her superhuman powers, is not above her own traumatic story with partner abuse. The villain of the season is not armed with heavy-hitting super-strength or the ability to move large objects with his mind. Rather, he uses his mind to control other people and make them do whatever he wishes. And his wishes are quite malevolent in nature. This white man with the super-brain, Kilgrave as he is known, is a force of pure white male privileged id gone bonkers. He moves through the world leaving a wake of mind-violated victims behind — men and women both. But he is really gunning for Jessica Jones, because she is the only one who, for just one second, had the ability to say no to him. But not before he had contaminated everything she was — most importantly, her belief in her own agency. 

     It’s from this source that Jessica’s PTSD stems. It’s because of this horrible man that she had hidden herself and her abilities away and sulked in the shadows. But as the season swiftly moves along, we get to see Jessica change dramatically — finding a strong footing in her relationships with friends and fellow victims. And we see her desire to not only cease Kilgrave’s maniacal path through a vulnerable and unwitting population but also her wish to reclaim ownership over her traumatized psyche and life. It sure is something to watch. And sincerely smile about. 

*dialogue from the show

Review of the television series Master of None: Season 1

     The television series Master of None, created by Aziz Ansari and Adam Ylang, debuted on Netflix a little over three weeks ago. It stars Ansari as Dev, a 30-something millennial living in New York City whose acting career is middling at best and whose progress into successful adulthood comes with an overload of growing pains. The show instigates thought and reflection along with plenty of laughter as Dev explores provocative cultural issues in each episode. The plots often include stories that remain unseen or strictly marginalized to the edges of the majority of our entertainment media - which makes the show something of a revelation in terms of comedy series. Master of None touches on race and racism, immigration and acculturation, dating travails, the questions surrounding having kids, employment woes, covert vs. overt sexism, and diverse friendships. And though Ansari and Ylang certainly do not handle each of these topics with seamless precision — sometimes it feels a little preachy or too on the nose — it’s something to praise that they’ve attempted to tell these stories at all. What really strikes the right notes is the artistic voice and vision of the show; its hits the ground running with a strong, funny, and smart viewpoint. I can’t wait until the second season to see what other questions Dev posts to the world. Get on this train.

Deserted Island List Mania: Top Dystopian Tales

    There's something about dystopian stories that tickles the mind. The best ones floor me with intricate and gorgeously-realized detail. They seem to speak to a part of me that's curious to know what the world would be like if some apocalyptic force leveled society, stripped it bare of any semblance of the old civility it had known prior. What would this new world look, feel, sound, taste, and smell like? And how would we behave in this freshly charred landscape? What would we keep from the old as we forged our way through the new? And how would we come to see one another there?
     Dystopias reign in each fictionalized universe of the following tales. Some things look familiar, remembrances of the way society used to function and people used to act still linger in characters' minds. But a new order has taken hold in each, civilization has become a stranger, darker beast than before whatever, named or unnamed, event forever altered the cultural landscape. And every story is ultimately unique in vision and force, causing audiences to view their current existences with a tinge of newly heightened inquisitiveness. Then they beg the question, 'What would I do in such a world? Who would I become?' 


1. Cat's Cradle written by Kurt Vonnegut

     In this, arguably his best, novel Mr. Vonnegut once again conspires to end the world as we know it  - with a little help from modern religion and technology. Cat's Cradle was written during the time of the Cuban missile crisis and conjures an existence in which a veritable smorgasbord of unique characters seems to have either the best or worst of possible intentions at just the wrong stroke of the clock. Hysterically rollicking and also chillingly terrifying, the story is nothing short of an epic masterpiece of dystopian fiction that punches a little too close to the heart for comfort. 

2. Fahrenheit 451 written by Ray Bradbury

     Guy Montag is a fireman whose job is not to put out fires but, rather, to start them. In a bleak future in which books are an outlawed commodity, Guy is an agent of the government charged with burning any books discovered hiding in the secret rooms and shelves of those who defy society's rules. The penalty for possessing such items is sure death. But when Guy meets a strange new neighbor, he begins to question everything that has been ingrained into his being. Author Ray Bradbury penned this seminal dystopian vision with a plentitude of wit, intrigue, and action that is sure to capture any reader's mind - sending it reeling into a deep forest of queries and imaginings.

3. The Handmaid's Tale written by Margaret Atwood

     "Set within a bleak dystopian future where the ability to reproduce has been sharply curbed by the effects of world pollution and gross misuse of genetic science, those few woman of childbearing age and potential are kept as broodmares for the rich and powerful. Or, as they are more politely called, handmaidens. This fictional mono-theocratic society no longer allows these women to obtain education or read, work jobs, or have their own families. They have been reduced to their most base function - as viable wombs - not the dynamic, feeling, loving human beings of infinite potentials that they may have been in a different time and place...Despite the bleak and horrific premise, it is at times a startlingly gorgeous narrative, consummated through Atwood’s stark yet sensual language." (Excerpt from my previous review.)

4. Mad Max: Fury Road directed by George Miller

     Kick-ass feminist uprisings in a misogynistic, patriarchal dystopia? Yes, please! You had me at the start of this thriller that puts women in the driver's seat towards their own salvation. Max can barely hold on at first through the fiery carnage and roaring high-speed turmoil. But he gets his bearings in this female-led actioner, and he's all the better for it, too.

5. De-loused in the Comatorium recorded by The Mars Volta

     Yeah, I know. It's a bit of a stretch. But just let me have this one. A prog rock concept album that imagines the fevered dreamings of a comatose drug-addled psyche, The Mars Volta nails a dystopian sonic landscape. The lyrics might not make a lot of sense on their own, but, when paired with the psychedelia of the music layered all beneath and around, they help carry this album to epic heights of pure stylistic euphoria. 









6. The Road written by Cormac McCarthy

     So devastatingly bleak and also so evocative and gorgeously-rendered, Cormac McCarthy's The Road plows through the field of dystopian tales with its singular staggering force. I cannot speak adequately to the power of its narrative of a father and young son traveling a dusty road through a world ravaged of nearly all other life. There are great losses and terrors and, yet, still great sacrificing love present all throughout. And the ending packs a wallop that is sure to linger long in a reader's mind, waxing and waning in intensity within the infinite ocean of the imagination.

Deserted Island List Mania: Top Shelf Deserted Island Yarns

     Deserted islands have always seized my imagination in a manner that enthralls and delights my whole being. It is something about the fantasy of such a place that sends my mind wheeling into a hazy dreamland of jade palm trees and sapphire ocean waves lining the beaches of desolate solitude. Their siren song beckons, especially within a culture such as ours where we are so constantly plugged in and purposed in all our actions. 
     To me, a deserted island would truly be an isolated respite from the myriad of responsibilities and pulls inherent in modern life. Sure, the island lifestyle and daily survival endeavors appear tricky and quite rooted in a multitude of dangers in all the following yarns, but it sure beats 40+ hours a week and the monthly bills that just keep slipping through the cracks. Deserted islands defy convention and the ordinary semblance of civility that clings to us like a second skin. The fantasy allows some to shed that skin and weave daydreams out of what life could be like far and away from anything we have ever known before.


1. Lord of the Flies by William Golding

     The gold standard of deserted island tales, William Golding's classic sure makes island life look a bit apocalyptic. A group of young, ordinary-enough English schoolboys becomes stranded and, at first, the fact that there is not an adult anywhere in sight makes this look like a fun adventure. But fun, rules, and the flimsy semblance of civility quickly erode as violence and panic rear their terrible heads. This is a chilling novel that makes a reader ask herself how fast her own hold on propriety and order might slip were she ever treading similar waters.








2. Robinson by Muriel Spark

    Part deserted island tale, part murder mystery, Muriel Spark's novel snares attention immediately with a frank and unsentimental heroine journaling her new life as a plane-wreck survivor. Through this lens, we are introduced to the isolated and mysterious Robinson Island where cats play ping pong, strange mists slink through the trees, hidden tunnels are plentiful, the occult might be real, blackmail is afoot, and ants have a habit of flying. Robinson is a captivatingly quick read that proves, once again, that Ms. Spark is the master of any genre, including the island castaway tale.





3. The Black Stallion film

     The first half of this film plays out like a dream as a young boy and a mysterious black horse are suddenly shipwrecked and marooned together in the middle of the ocean. On an uninhabited island the two slowly suss each other out and find that their survival depends on their cooperation. The quality of the rest of the movie is debatable, but the beginning island scenes are breathtaking and sumptuous in both sight and sound as the boy eventually sits astride a galloping stallion, leaving long, wild tracks in the starkly white sands hemmed in by an infinitesimal blue.






4. Foe by J. M. Coetzee

    This novel is at once a reinvention of the tale of Robinson Crusoe and also a reworking of the basics of story-telling itself. The island is always there as are Crusoe and his silent companion Friday. But there is also one more, a woman, and she proves to be more than a mere secondary character to the men in her world. A puzzling and enigmatic novel that takes a new view on the story the world thinks it knows so well, that forever alters that island and its infamous inhabitants into something much more treacherous, electric, and mesmerizing.




5. I Was Amelia Earhart by Jane Mendelsohn

     "Banking into a cover of clouds off the New Guinea coastline on July 2nd, 1937, Amelia Earhart vanished forever. That day she disappeared from an intensely public and infamous life within the silver body of her beloved Lockheed Electra aircraft. In writer Jane Mendelsohn's novel, the imagined life that came after that red letter day vibrates and sounds itself into an existence just as enticing as that which has been so renowned and retold. The words of this story flash forward and backward through Amelia's true and fictional history, from the greatest altitudes of flight to the depths of what an individual can endure and yet still remain herself. A novel of one famed and long lost heroine finally found." (My previous review.)










6. John Dollar by Marianne Wiggins 

     This novel has been called a "female Lord of the Flies" and serves to bookend this list well with the more infamous novel that gave way to such a description. John Dollar finds itself dripping in sumptuous detail among the colonial Burmese nation just after the finish of the first world war. There a newly widowed British schoolteacher meets the charming eponymous sailor who becomes her passionate lover. When a startling earthquake and subsequent tidal wave washes the two and eight young schoolgirls from their ship, they find their destinies inextricably linked on a small deserted island far from help or civilization. The shocking lengths that are taken for the sake of survival raise the hackles of readers and prove once again that the island life is no joke under any circumstances. 

The Weeping Song: Some Thoughts on Current World Events

     I cannot speak for others. I’m not going to pretend I can. And I won’t do it, lest I misrepresent any voices and viewpoints. But I will speak what is my perspective; that’s certainly all I can do.

     This past Friday night (11/13/15) a group of terrorists launched coordinated attacks on innocent people throughout the city of Paris, France. A bomb went off, shots were fired, bystanders were taken hostage. And in the end, 129 individuals were dead and another 352 wounded. People had just been going about their daily lives. Then suddenly they were targeted, and the thin veil that hangs between each of us and the violent nature of this world fell away. Through the media updates and images, we — those not in Paris — bore witness to the terror experienced by the people within that city. 

     The entirety of the situation is both complex and simple. It is complex because of the multifarious nature of the terrorists’ motives and the politics surrounding the implications of what they did. And, yet, it is simple because many people are dead, and that means so many others are in mournful despair — families, friends, and those who survived. 

     Numerous politicians and media outlets are so quick to place blame for these events. And we all know who will be yoked with that blame. It is far too easy to do this, and the act only serves to create further barriers against peace and solidarity. The throwing of recriminations at all Muslim-identifying people throughout the world is utterly foolhardy and irresponsible. What these terrorist organizations proclaim to be in the name of religion is not truly religious in nature at all. Instead, it is a horrifying blend of misogyny and extremism that they cloak in a banner of something that they only call "Islam." What they truly do is far removed from the heart of that religion to which they have laid claim. Not to mention that thousands among those they target are identified-Muslims. And what of those other victims of terrorism throughout the world that the media and politicians have not deemed as worthy of our attention as those in Paris, France? There are many names and faces missing in the updates and headlines that also deserve our support — most of these being non-white and non-Western in origin.

     That said, no one should feel any shame for mourning, for experiencing sadness, toward what happened in Paris and those affected. It is certainly a terrible thing. No one deserves it. And those who survived and the rest of us out in the surrounding world all have a right to our emotions. We need time to experience them fully and allow even more time to reflect on both the complexity and simplicity of what has occurred. It is in these moments of mourning and sadness that we ought to realize that how we react to our emotions will be very important in the coming days, weeks, months, and years. This is a time to take stock of what and whom we deem important in this world. Because the type of terrorism seen in Paris is not singular to that city and its people. It is a sincere hope of mine that the events of last Friday night will open up some — hopefully many — minds to those other cities and peoples throughout the world, to the horrors and oppression they have suffered. Mourning and condolences should not be limited to only those that the media deem worthy. Stand also with all terrorized people — be it due to racism, misogyny, homo/transphobia, religious extremism, capitalism, classism, whatever — in all places on this earth. 

     I am not certain that this will have a positive outcome as I have yet to see one under such circumstances in the past. It seems more likely that there will be a severe and fevered backlash against the entirety of the Islam-identifying world — though the overwhelming majority of which do not share any ties or agendas with those who terrorize. This makes me increasingly wary as it does more to divide those of us who would stand against the terrorist threat from one another, creating a much more vulnerable population. And it makes many others more susceptible to the dangerous messages humming about from these terrorist organizations all over the world. We’ve seen this numerous times. I just wonder how many more times we will let history play out in this manner before we can begin to change the course. 

"later that night

I held an atlas in my lap

ran my fingers across the whole world

and whispered

where does it hurt?

It answered

everywhere

everywhere 

everywhere."

-Warsan Shire

Book to Film: A Review of Wuthering Heights

“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” *

     Emily Bronte’s literary classic Wuthering Heights is quite brutal. This fact is often lost because of the novel’s common use as a mandatory reading assignment in middle and/or high school in our country. It stands to reason that all works of art would fare far better when undertaken with more willingness and a sense of choice. 

     Set in the bleak Yorkshire moors, Wuthering Heights tells the twisted love story of Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, a “gypsy” foundling adopted by her father. This was Emily Bronte’s only novel, and her prose is unsympathetic and raw in its power. The two characters are raised together in their father’s house, and a deep bond grows between them. They circle one another, resisting the passion that only becomes stronger as they mature, taking a step forward then shying away with insecurity. And since no action is taken by either, Heathcliff wrongly believes that Catherine does not reciprocate his affections and leaves the farm to seek a fortune. He returns many years later to find Catherine married to a rich man. Torn apart by his lingering adoration for her and she for him, the two enact such psychological violence against one another that leads to both’s eventual demise.

     Catherine and Heathcliff are mean, miserable people. They are nasty to one another, despicable in behavior. A reader could easily find these characters utterly unattractive and unsympathetic. But one must remember that there are times when we are horrible to one another in the throes of love. Insecurities and prejudice are strong forces against it. Heathcliff’s “otherness” due to being a foundling and mistreatment by his adopted family serve to create a thick barrier between himself and Catherine. In Bronte’s narrative, the tinge of classism and racism are implied throughout. And we see that Catherine is not above such things, and Heathcliff’s reaction to her withheld affection only sprouts resentment and a vengeful disposition towards her and those around her. It is painful, quite sorrowful, to hear their tale.

     In the film adaptation (2012) of the novel by director Andrea Arnold, the tart voyeuristic nature of the story is upheld in the visuals. Arnold shoots the characters against the backdrop of the moors, illuminating how small and feeble they are against their meaner instincts. They move about the farm, playing, doing their chores, taking care of and killing the animals with little sentimentality. This landscape has little regard for them, and that is mirrored in their own actions. And the beauty and savagery of the nature on display parallels the way in which the characters treat one another. They taunt and spar in the darkened interiors of the low structures that barely manage to keep out the sullen weather. There are a few bittersweet moments that are quickly snuffed out but manage to linger long into the future, recalled with a fondness that is coupled with pain.

     Arnold has made a bold choice in casting the part of Heathcliff as a young black man. This decision only serves to add to the subtext of racism and “otherness” that was implied in the novel and makes it plain — something a viewer is unable to avoid. The secondary characters now not only call Heathcliff nasty names maligning his intelligence and origins but also racial slurs that cut to the core of his identity as someone who will never be allowed to belong. 

     It is, at times, uncomfortable to watch. But this aligns the film closely with the experience of the novel. The savage love that Catherine and Heathcliff share but never consummate speaks to those reading and viewing on such deep levels. Specifically the nastier parts of our persons that we fear would likely cause us to do the same in similar circumstances. 

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”*

*dialogue from the novel

Review of the film Sicario

“You're asking me how a watch is made. For now just keep your eye on the time.”*

     The American/Mexican borderland hinges on contradictions. One can live on the surface of the land, only skimming along reality — casting eyes away from that which screams to be heard and witnessed. It only takes the right sideways glance, the correct angle of sunlight, to catch sight of the dirtier, messier world that operates just below society’s superficial gaze. 

     In the film Sicario, directed by Denis Villeneuve, we are thrust below the surface — forced to gaze below that easy-going semblance of order and normalcy. Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) is an idealistic young FBI agent who is recruited to join an inter-agency task force combating drug cartel movement along the Mexico border. The man doing the recruiting (portrayed by Josh Brolin) tells her little of what the team will be up to, other than flying to El Paso. Her hackles are immediately raised as she is introduced to a mysterious “consultant” named Alejandro (Benicio del Toro), who says little to nothing regarding his personal credentials or objective. 

     The action begins immediately, and Kate finds herself tripping along within a moral quagmire. The numerous men swirling around her operate outside federal jurisdiction or any sense of lawful procedures. Borders are crossed, literally and figuratively — doors are kicked in, shots are fired, and informants savagely interrogated in locked rooms. We are kept in the dark as much as Kate as to the end goal of the team’s mission. She is a cog in their machine, and she will serve her purpose no matter if she wishes it or not. It’s frightening how easily these men create a situation in which Kate, a woman amidst them, has no choice. Viewers see her face, along with the faces of those that stand in the way of the team’s end goal, and realize how little agency so many have in the violent drug war taking place on the border. It steamrolls anyone who might object or find fault with the brutal, dehumanizing methods employed by those who fight for either side. Or it will find some use for them, and then they will be discarded with no regard whatsoever for life or limb or conscience.

     This film is structured like a horror story, the action and sense of dread keep mounting. And it all is leading towards that violent, foregone conclusion that Kate hastily begins to piece together and realizes fully her impotence to stop. Violence begets violence, and the order we believe we are existing in is as flimsy as a chainlink fence.

*dialogue from the film

Review of the film Mad Max: Fury Road

     Mad Max: Fury Road flings its characters into perpetual motion, into a two-hour long car chase across the lifeless sands of a nuclear ravaged dystopia. They are propelled — shot, tossed, rocketed — through the same world we remember from the first three Mad Max movies. It’s been a 20 plus year wait for director George Miller to return to this arid, uncharitable landscape, and it was well worth it. This is an action movie of great clarity and singular purpose — to get seriously crazy. And the whole thing is exhilarating.

     It begins in furious fashion with Max, now played by British actor Tom Hardy, running from and pursued by slobbering, writhing hordes of a society that sees everything, including fellow human beings, as an assortment of parts for potential use. They drag him into their city where the overlord Immortan Joe holds tight the lives of his sickly, near-starving minions. It seems that Max’s story has nowhere to go as his universal donor status means that his blood becomes a prized resource for the anemic war boys.

     But within the walls of the city, Charlize Theron’s Furiosa, the trusted driver of the overlord’s main war rig, has secretly turned rogue. In the belly of her thundering vehicle are the brood wives of the overlord, escaping their enslavement with her steely, level-eyed help. They are running to the mythical “Green Place” where they will no longer be treated as objects — no longer farmed for their wombs by megalomaniacs of an utterly deranged society. Furiosa leads these women through the desert pursued by Immortan Joe’s brainwashed warriors. 

     Max somehow finds his way into this band of refugees and, at first, aids them based solely on his own survival. But, as he witnesses their fortitude, he begins to help based on empathy for their cause. Haunted by past failures, Max finds something like new meaning in the women’s fevered desire for self-determination. 

     Cries of misandry by some have been heard all around the opening and showing of this particular film narrative. There are a particular few who, even before seeing the film, railed against an action movie that placed women in roles on equal level with men. Instead of damsels in distress, we see these women executing their own escape from and revenge on Immortan Joe. They never needed a man to rescue their efforts or their persons. It’s purely by chance that Max begins to help them at all. In many ways, he benefits more from their assistance than they ever will from his. But this does nothing to emasculate Max, as the critics have wailed that it does. Instead, it humanizes him, makes him more realistic as a character in a world that has gone mad. And it makes the entire narrative infinitely more engaging and thrilling for a wider audience — contains the potential to enthrall a much more diverse array of viewers — than simply bros thirsting for explosions and some T. & A.

     It’s something for me to say that an action movie actually moved me, but I’m saying it now. Sure, the dialogue falls flat but there’s not too much of it to worry about. And it’s quickly forgotten as the kinetic, propulsive gears of this story are ignited and take off, never slowing, never pausing for breath, until that final frame. Then it’s just pure satisfaction. 

Book to Film: A Review of Brokeback Mountain

"There ain't never enough time, never enough..."*

     In the sparest of prose, Brokeback Mountain mines a deep and passionate well of profundity. Author Annie Proulx’s choices of syntax, cadence, rhythm and individual words have each been labored over and calculated. But that seemingly-cold process yields such exquisite desire and depth — as time, circumstances, and stubbornness combine to keep two doomed lovers apart. 

      In this particular short story, the spareness of the tale seems to place the responsibility of depth and subtlety with the reader to supply. Its is his/her perceptions of the characters, actions, and events that give the epic breadth to the simple story on the page. The inner lives of the characters are largely left unsaid, but it is implied in what they do in their day to day lives over time. These people are products of their upbringings within a culture where men are told not to voice or show their emotions and, instead, tamp them down inside their guts.

     Ennis del Mar is a man of his upbringing, one to never let on his true feelings or desires, while scrimping a living bearing watch over other men’s livestock. The man he falls for, Jack Twist, is often rash and impulsive in his actions and talk, eking out money rodeoing and summers herding cattle and sheep. These men share an idyllic summer in the early 60s on a mountain side in Wyoming — one in which, despite their better figuring, they find something like passion. This world that these two main characters reside in bears no sympathy for a love that does not exist within it’s rigorously strict standards. And it takes everything in their power and beyond to attempt to uphold the rules — both spoken and unspoken.

     It’s difficult for films, with their abbreviated running times, to always capture the depth, subtlety and psychological insight of a book. The clarity with which the story of Proulx’s Brokeback Mountain was adapted to the screen reminds me somewhat of that which was accomplished with Cormac McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men by the Coen Brothers. The two stories are vastly different, but each is so spare in its prose — yet the returns are so great. For many readers, the little of what verse is on the page resonates deeply at an emotional level, and the film versions only serve to deepen those reactions. Despite little description of visuals, both adaptations seem to  effortlessly capture and expand the story’s intentions and themes in masterful ways:  The characters and their surroundings look, sound, and behave just as we imagine they should. 

     In Brokeback Mountain, the beauty and idyllic nature of that one summer is cut short, and the two lovers agree to part for good. But try as mightily as they do — each marrying themselves away to suspecting women, fathering children, continuing working, meeting only quickly and furtively through the years — Ennis and Jack cannot stamp out their yearning for each other. They continually question what life would have been like if they had been capable of staying together. And as age rapidly wears on their faces, they long for a world that would have allowed them to have really loved one another without any reservations. This aching wondering echoes long after the book covers are closed and the screen fades to black.

*dialogue from the film