Brokeback Mountain: A Remembrance of Things Past

I have not seen the much talked about movie Brokeback Mountain; however, I did recently read the Annie Proulx short story upon which it is based, and I just finished reading Roger Ebert's film review. For me reading Ebert's review of the film was like reading a review of the short story I'd just finished. Apparently the film very closely follows the story line, catching as it does the tenor and tone of this sad tale.

The story relates the saga of two cowboy sheep herders, Jack and Ennis, who fall in love. Related from Ennis perspective, we are privy to Jack's views only when he's engaged in a direct exchange with Ennis but otherwise, it's Ennis's thoughts and views that color the story. We never know what Jack's thinking except when he actually says something. For example, we find out that he experiences real difficulty having such a brief encounters with Ennis. . .he wanted more; he wanted to be with Ennis. Even the very first physical encounter is told from Ennis perspective.


There are, to be sure, many artistic expressions that offer commentary on the difficulties associated with the whole business of loving and being loved by another human being. Those expressions range from the sad wailing of Hank William's songs, his Lovesick Blues and Cold, Cold Hearts to the more sophisticated chronicle of lovers woe reflected in Maugham's, Of Human Bondage; the list of such works, sadly enough, is nearly endless. I guess there's a commentary in the mere quantity of such offerings. Be that as it may, Brokeback Mountain comes along as a sad reminder that the struggles associated with making it in a gay relationship also carry the additional burdens imposed by a sometimes harsh, intolerant social climate. Wow! Imagine being in a relationship, having to deal with all the nuances and in addition being plagued with the thought that if ". . . thing gets hold of us at the wrong time and wrong place and we're dead."

The story has a haunting quality about it, and I felt sympathy for Ennis's situation. . .that is, his not being able to be true to himself. One of the sad aspects of Jack and Ennis’s situation was the absence of opportunities to develop much of a relationship. I think educated people have a far easier time in gay relationships than do the Jacks and Ennis' of this world, and even educated people have had a rough go of it.


Finished with the story, I couldn't escape thoughts of that young college kid, who several years ago, was left hanging on a Wyoming sheep fence, beat to a pulp, dead; or, of the recent rage in a Boston area bar. I also found myself reflecting back on my days as a member of the faculty at Wabash College in Crawfordsville, Indiana.

I had a friend at Wabash who had just divorced his wife the summer before I arrived at the college. They had a small three year old daughter and the split was very amicable; however, there was much pain. One summer Chuck (he was a French processor) and I spent a lot of nights in the pottery shop at Wabash throwing pots and shootin' the bull. We were both supposed to be working on our Ph. d. dissertations. .. . didn't happen. In any case, Chuck had had a difficult time discovering his sexual self, and it came at the cost of his marriage and family. When he left Wabash, he moved to Chicago and did some fast livin' ostensibly to make up for lost time; it cost him his life. . .he was an early aids victim.

Now I do think the blue collar types like Jack and Ennis, experience double difficulties. . .they not only have to deal with their own journey to self realization, made so difficult by social intolerance and repressiveness, they have to deal with the homophobics out their who want to kill them.


Chuck's friendship meant a lot to me; he was the first gay who I really knew well; the association helped me to understand what should have been obvious. . .he was a human being. We never talked about things sexual. He was an extremely bright, articulate soul who was clearly aware that life is far more than just a walk across the field. We did have some great times shootin' the bull.

During that same time I became very good friends with Father Maupin, the priest at the Newman Center. . .I was on the Newman Center Board at the time. Ron knew that I didn’t share his deep religious convictions, but it did really matter; he helped me though one of the more difficult periods in my life because that’s just the kind of loving person he was; he was later stabbed in the back in Napa, California where he was working as the hospital Chaplin.

Sadly enough, just prior to my first trip to Mexico City, Ron called and invited me to come to Napa for a visit. The long and short of it, I went to Mexico City instead; Ron was killed a month or so later by some jerk who shoved a knife in his back, a guy he'd befriended in a bar.

There are times when life is difficult. I've thought at times it must be some kinda nice to be brain dead, i.e., just plain stupid, to slip through life like a marble sliding down a greased tube. .. no bumps, no bruises.. . .bliss! You know, like bein' a Packer Backer, a real beer guzzlin' cheese head: brain dead.

For a very perceptive review of the film see Roger Ebert's review:

http://tinyurl.com/7ca7f