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Sunday, February 05, 2006


On Gay Cowboys (Well, not literally ON them)

My wife and I finally went to see Brokeback Mountain last night. It played to a sold-out crowd in the largest theater at the Lincoln Square Loew's, so...yeah. It's good to see Bill O'Reilly has his finger so firmly on the pulse of the American movie-going public. What do you think, Bill; will Big Mama's House 2 continue to pack 'em in?

Anyway, what I have to say about Brokeback Mountain is: If you want to be really well depressed, this is the flick for you. It's kind of a photo negative of It's a Wonderful Life. I'm thinking you could go to this movie on your birthday after you've just had amazing sex and eaten the best-tasting blueberry pie ever made on the planet and you'd still come out of the theater looking for some razor blades to slice open your wrists. It's that depressing. So, of course, I recommend it highly.

The movie is an indictment of the homophobia in our society that, to this day, keeps men and women in the closet and denying their true selves. And it's great to read over and over how courageous Jake Gyllenhall and Heath Ledger feel they were to take the parts in the first place. Kudos for signing on to well-paying Oscar bait, fellas. Seriously, they were fantastic in the movie, but shut up about how difficult it was to kiss each other. All you had to do was close your eyes and think about the five cars you could buy with your paychecks.

While the film is mostly about society's intolerance of homosexuals, it's also a movie about how anybody--gay, straight or necrophiliac--can piss away their life until they find themselves middle-aged and living in a trailer with two plates and no furniture. And that's the aspect of it that I'm choosing to focus on, because it's the one with the greatest potential to depress me.

When I think about the fact that it's been twenty years since I was fifteen--hell, when I take a second to consider that I'm old enough to have clear memories of twenty years ago--it scares the living shit out of me. That empty trailer is only five or six more years-of-not-getting-paid-to-write away. Not literally, of course. I've lived in a trailer before and I don't see it ever happening again, especially when my wife has a law degree and increases the household earning potential. But I'm talking about the figurative empty trailer, man. The empty trailer of the soul.

Anyway, you should go see Brokeback Mountain. If you don't go for the gay sex scenes, then go for the post-film depression. If you don't go for the post-film depression, then go so that, when it wins six or seven Academy Awards, you don't have to say, "No, I didn't see it. I stayed home and ordered Into the Blue on pay-per-view instead. Jessica Alba's fucking stacked, man."

Well I got to be depressed for free by staying home and watching Grizzly Man, which answers the age old question...yes, a bear really does shit in the woods.
I find it hilarious how homophobic both Jake and Heath act while discussing their roles. Uh, wasn't this supposed to open your mind?

I read an interview, a long time ago, with Peter Saarsgard about Kinsey in which he had to strip naked and make out with Liam Neeson. He treated it so non-chalantly. When they asked him if it was hard, he said no, of course not, it's acting. And when they asked him if Liam is a good kisser, he said, No, but it was fun anyway.

That sounded funnier in my head.
As much as I like Jessica Alba, I think I'll like this movie better.
I asked my prof in my Canadian Literature class if we were EVER going to read a book that didn't make me want to slit my wrists.

I'm still not sure I am up to anything else that depressing, and I haven't been in that class since 1992.

That Girl
Yes. That trailer was, to me as well, the saddest part of a very sad movie.
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