Brokeback Mountain: Our Community's Common Bond > IMDb Remarkable Writings Rewound

Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art - by ClancyPantsNasty

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TOoP/Bruce:
This a classic REPOST of one of the most frequently bumped threads on TOB. 

After I reposted it, trolls kept getting it deleted until I reposted it with the title backwards: "trA fo eceipretsaM a si niatnuoM kcabekorB yhW"
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Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art

by ClancyPantsNasty (Fri Dec 29 2006 01:38:11 )   

UPDATED Tue Feb 6 2007 22:42:46
Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art


A number of criteria are used by film critics, festivals, boards, historians, artists, academics, and the general public to judge a film’s merit as a masterpiece of art. These include, but are not limited to, the story (e.g., the theme, the plot, the characterizations, and the motivations), the actors and their performances, the production values (e.g., the direction), the scene or film editing, the construction or structure of the film as a whole, and the effects of the film on the viewers. Brokeback Mountain not only met the standards of these criteria, it far surpassed them and has rightfully taken its place in the pantheon of great films. Here’s why:

[Note: This is not meant to be a comprehensive academic treatise. I give specific examples to support my argument; however, there are hundreds more that I do not include. Other posters may feel free to expound further as we have all been doing for a year now. I have culled from many sources, all readily and widely available in simple internet searches, from the IMDb and official Brokeback Mountain sites, and from the many extremely thoughtful members of the community that has developed on this board.

Just as the film does not actively seek to promote any kind of message, neither do I. The purpose behind this “essay” is an examination of the film’s qualities as art.

Also, please forgive me, but I wrote this in the middle of the night after a long and eventful day. If there are spelling or grammar errors, please point them out and I will edit later. Thanks.]


THE STORY

The story for the film comes directly from Annie Proulx’s (AP) short story Brokeback Mountain as originally published in the October 13, 1997 edition of The New Yorker and subsequently published in her collection of short stories Close Range: Wyoming Stories, the book Broke Mountain: Story to Screenplay, and in its own edition. The screenplay writers remained very faithful to the original story, as did the director in bringing the characters to life and with regard to the imagery and forces of the Wyoming environment. Therefore, when I speak of the author or the screenwriters or the director, I am almost always speaking of all of them together as each remained faithful to the story (e.g., comments that I make about the author’s development of a character can also be taken as true for the others).

Brokeback Mountain is a character-driven story. This is one criterion for judging a short story’s quality. A constant focus is maintained on the characters, their motivations, their subsequent actions, and on the forces that affect them. Here is where AP excels in surpassing “good writing.” Brokeback Mountain, the place, and its illusory power, along with the very landscape of the environment and the weather that works symbiotically with it, become actual characters in the story, having both an effect upon and being affected by the human characters. Both the animate and inanimate coexist. And this is a crucial aspect of the short story as it helps to drive the theme.

The very land in which the story takes place has been forged by geologic and weather forces producing a unique environment in which the story is set. There are flat plains and meadows, and there are mountains. Each contribute to the story in placing the characters into conditions that shape people, how they live, and what they believe. The mountains are rugged and there is difficulty in their accessibility. Their height and mass directly affect the weather conditions bringing storms and winds in a much different frequency, duration, and severity than what occurs in the plains and fields. These conditions have a direct impact on the characterization of the characters and our understanding of them. For example, above the tree line, where the characters spend most of their time on the mountain, the weather conditions have created a different line of trees that are stunted in their growth, developing their forms because of and despite the forces acting against them. This is called the krummholz line and AP seemingly redundantly describes it as “damaged krummholz.” In so describing, she sets up an imagery for the development of the human characters as damaged and stunted in their growth by forces acting against them, yet they, as the krummholz, do survive. This is immediately contrasted against the wind-combed grasses, which tie the meadows of the mountain to the plains below. Again, the forces of nature have their effects on the growth of the non-human characters, an imagery of the growth of the human characters. Thus, the setting is inextricably linked to the characters’ development, at times in the high mountains “suspended above ordinary affairs and distant from tame ranch dogs,” with a resultant “They believed themselves invisible.” This is contrasted against the characters’ development on the plains below, in the populated areas, where other forces act upon them.

Throughout the story, subsidiary characters are introduced for the sole purpose of expounding on the influences on and motivations of the characters, resulting in their actions. The story does not take the reader/viewer down an irrelevant path of the development of either Alma or Lureen. It is sufficient to know that each had her effect on Ennis and Jack. We see that Alma comes from poverty but is willing to work her way out of it, a contrast to Ennis. We see that Jack, similar to Alma, is willing to work his way into a better life, from a monetary standpoint, in his relationship with Lureen. In the case of Jack, the relationship works for his reality-based goal (“Money’s a good point”), and yet, in so attaining, he, himself, is diverted from his vision-goal (a ranch of his own). For Ennis, none of his goals come to pass because he clings to a relationship that he will not allow to mature, thus sidetracking all of his other relationships. This contrast between Ennis and Jack, their realities, their beliefs, and their actions, adds greater depth to their characterizations. Yet, none of this is hardly ever spoken of. It is left for us, the reader/viewer, to understand from the exposition; this being another criterion of a superior story.

Ennis is loved by so many, and yet he cannot allow himself to fully love anyone to an ultimate end. He is whipped and swayed by the forces acting on him and so he tries to please those he loves, some more than others. But he is stunted in his ability to achieve a mutually-satisfying relationship with anyone by the very same forces and by his own psyche and emotional makeup. Through the use of a flashback to a traumatic incident in his past, we learn, by means of a kind of shorthand, what has caused his inner self to develop as it has. We can see the turmoil it causes him and how it affects his actions and interactions. This is placed directly in the middle of the story providing a contrast between mountain-Ennis and rural-Ennis. And thus, the theme of the story is developed: the destructive effects of rural homophobia.

Yet another criterion of superior writing is the choice of a unique theme. The theme of this story has never been expounded upon before in the short story form, nor in a film. It is central to an understanding of Brokeback Mountain that the theme is very specifically placed both spatially and temporally because of the development of theme through the geography, shaped by weather as a force, producing an effect that is mirrored in the characterizations of the human characters of the story. The destructive effects are directly linked to both the time and the place. This has never been done before. It is unique because the effects are unique and require an exposition as the author provided, another criterion of superior short story writing.

Another criterion for a superior story (in either film or in writing) is its ability to withstand repeated readings/viewings, with each new repetition revealing more details than before. It is hardly necessary to discuss this as the tens of thousands of posts to this board bear witness to the fact that no-one saw everything on a single viewing, and that even with multiple viewings over an entire year, new details and nuances are discovered, discussed, and digested by those who take the time to wade though this very complex and intricately woven story. It is quite common to see a new thread started by someone who complains that the first tent scene came out of nowhere. These people missed a lot of details on a first viewing – and this is not a negative judgment on these people. It seems that the majority of people missed any number of clues as to the developing attraction between Ennis and Jack. However, when one is willing to go back and re-watch, one begins to see things one missed the first time. There are discreet glances, there are longing looks outside the presence of the other, there are attempts to please the other, there is a growing sense of security in the relationship, there is a growing openness between the two, there are discussions that hint at sexuality and attraction. And, almost most importantly, is, again, what we are NOT shown: typical male sexual bravado. There are no tales of prior manly conquests or of the near death-provoking hunger for female sexual involvement that nearly every heterosexual male has experienced at this time in his life. Instead we see two young men “at their sexual peak” who spend a lot of time talking to each other and only once does the subject of girls come up for each of them, given as a passing comment that is quickly dismissed.

There are literally thousands of details, nuances, symbolic imageries, subtext-laden dialogue, etc., that are missed on a first viewing. This is but one of the ways of “getting” or understanding the film. Anyone who says s/he “got” it or understood it on one viewing either missed an awful lot or is lying. How many people who “got” the film on a first viewing understand why it is important that we saw Jack driving the tractor in circles with his son in his lap? How many people who “got” the film on a first viewing understand why it is important that Old Ma Twist is dressed the way she is? How many people who “got” the film on a first viewing understand why it is important that we see Ennis wash his hands, look out a window, or tuck in his shirt when we see him do these things? Again, this is only one of the meanings of “getting” the film/story.

Another important criterion of superior writing is that we get a comprehensible depiction of a slice of life. We get this in Brokeback Mountain. Again, the author stayed focused on the two main characters, revealing specific details at crucial moments that require a second reading/viewing to tie together. The dozy embrace would not have the impact on the viewer’s understanding of the emotional import of the scene had it been placed in its chronologically-appropriate spot. Additionally, had Jack’s theft and retention of the shirts been revealed as they came down from the mountain, a melodrama would have ensued teasing the viewer along to a viewer’s climax of understanding rather than Ennis’ climactic understanding; thus, the story achieves a subtly profound moment of awareness for both the character and the reader/viewer.

We are not shown all kinds of extraneous information about their pasts, just enough to get a clear picture of where they have come from and enough to aid our understanding of how they arrived at each point that they came to. Seemingly simple visuals such as Ennis saving a half-smoked cigarette, asking to borrow Jack’s lighter, and the disparity in the number of beers consumed in the bar scene, along with the fact that for an entire summer of work, Ennis only brought a semi-full paper bag, all depict for us the poverty from which he came, and thus is established a contrast against Jack.

Contrasting characters who share basic similarities is also necessary for superior writing. Jack and Ennis came from opposite ends of the state, had different family lives, had different senses of “home,” and yet were brought together on paper to discover that they similarly had a desire for a stable home, a place to call his own, for each one, an escape from his past. One loved the rodeo, the other did not; yet, they shared a love of the horse and of riding. One complained about every little thing, the other did not; yet, they worked together to build a home in which both could live.

Change and development of character in opposition to a directed, planned, or expected path is another aspect of superior writing. We see two young men with a similar ambition in life (“a place of my own”) who develop across twenty years, not quite attaining the goal as each had planned. Jack attained a home and a family, yet they were not at all what he had dreamed of as a place of his own. Ennis spent twenty years avoiding a permanent place of his own and yet he is the one who ended up with a permanence of “home” in the end. Ennis, regardless where he may live, will always have the shirts (Jack in spirit) and the imagined power of Brokeback, which create for him his “home.” Jack didn’t even get to have his ashes spread where he wanted. He lies beneath “the grieving plain.”

In superior writing, the characters are real. What they do, say and think, and how they do, say and think must be recognizable as believable to a large cross-section of the readers/viewers. The story/film delivers this in spades. The characters act within their means at their times. We are not shown a spacious bedroom in Ennis’ apartment. It is appropriate to his means. (Contrast, for example, the television show Roseanne. The Connor family is supposed to be middle-class (or even lower middle-class) in a modest home, yet there are at least four bedrooms in the house, each with enough room to hold a barn dance.) Ennis’ conception of what he may have in life is not only true to his emotional characterization, it is true to his circumstance. It is wholly believable that a man with Jack’s job, married into a family that has some money, would have new clothes and a new truck every few years. Contrast this with seeing Ennis wearing the same clothes years apart and with only two trucks in twenty years. Neither voices an exceptional dream for the future. Each has realistic hopes and goals – but for, of course, the interference of Ennis’ homophobia. There are no clichés or stereotypes used in the story to exhibit some characteristic. In fact, the story goes out of its way to avoid these tricks by instead building the characterizations in terms that are realistic to each character. Neither man lisps, prances, or has a flair for decorating – all stereotypes of gay men that are quite often not at all true. They are masculine men to whom women are attracted, and this is one of the prime motivators for the attraction that develops between the two of them – a development that occurs because they are gay men, unencumbered by clichés.

Also, the characters must have a depth to them. Again, in spades. Each is shown to run through a gamut of emotions, each appropriate and appropriately displayed to its timing in the film and in their respective characterizations. Ennis could not have had his emotional collapse (of the final lake scene) any earlier because the forces necessary for it, while present, had not yet been positioned for immediate collision. They were always kept apart by Ennis, and this was his inner struggle, well-developed and displayed through his frustrations (Alma leaving to work), insecurities (the Fourth of July scene), paranoia (the post-divorce scene and the move-to-Texas scene), and love for Jack. It is also notable that Alma and Lureen were each developed with only one or two emotional levels. This is consistent with keeping the focus on the main characters and useful for explaining the main characters rather than Alma and Lureen, themselves. The characterizations in the story explore many emotions, and on many levels. There is loneliness (each without a friend, each without each other, each with each other), abandonment (done to Ennis by his parents and siblings (unintentionally, of course), done to Jack by Ennis, done by Ennis to himself, done by Ennis to others in his life, done by Jack to himself, and ultimately, done by Jack to Ennis (both intentionally and not)), love (parental (both good and bad, controlling and freeing)), filial, romantic (Jack with Ennis, Ennis with Jack, Ennis with Alma, Jack with Lureen), sexual (again, many layers), fatherly (each Jack and Ennis to his own children), substituted (Alma with Monroe, Lureen with the business, Jack with Randall), happiness, sadness, despair, hurt, anger, sorrow – all on many levels and with differing layers of complexities all going on at once. And yet, the focus remains consistently on the main two characters. This kind of focus on characterization grabs the reader/viewer and holds on. (I am going to speak more to this later.)

Another aspect of superior writing is avoiding the gratuitous. And again, the film and its story avoid gratuity, most explicitly in the homosexual sex scenes. In the two tent scenes, we see a side-view of a bare bottom and a bare chest. Other than that, they remain fully clothed. The focus is not on the bodies of the men, it is on the actions and emotions of the men. In the first, an eruption of passion; in the second, a display of tender love. Another shot of the two of them shirtless is filmed from a great distance and focuses on a playfulness rather than on “sex.” In the reunion scene, we see them kiss passionately, an eruption of their emotions of longing and desire. Here, again, the focus is on the underlying emotions that each has been building for four years, rather than on the physicality itself. Again, both men remained fully clothed. The scene in the motel has both men shirtless, but done in such close-up that one hardly sees anything below the collarbone. The focus, again, remains on the words they speak to each other. Not on “sex.” In fact, the times that we see more of their skin, it is entirely sexless. Ennis is seen naked, from the side, while bathing, and the camera is focused on Jack’s face – the focus is not on Heath Ledger’s ass, it’s on what is going on in the mind of a character – the struggle he is feeling. Later we see Jack washing clothes naked, from the side. Again, the focus is not on Jake’s tushie; it’s on his vulnerability and emotional exposure. And the focus is on the boys-will-be-boys playfulness of the two when we see them jump naked into a river, again from a great distance. By not focusing on their bodies (skin), and keeping the focus on their actions and emotions, the gratuitous is avoided – as it should be in a superior story that maintains its focus on its theme.

(cont.)

TOoP/Bruce:
Re: Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art   
by ClancyPantsNasty (Fri Dec 29 2006 01:40:31 )   
Ignore this User | Report Abuse   
(cont.)

The theme of the story is the destructive effects of rural homophobia. The plot device used to drive this theme is a love story between two rural men. As in superior writing, these two work very well together in Brokeback Mountain. Neither takes center stage, relegating the other to the shadows. Both are ever-present throughout the film, constantly working against each other in order to develop each other. This is another hallmark of great writing. Instead of having a love story drive a theme of love, it drives a theme of anti-love. This is not the same thing as happens in Romeo and Juliet. In each, the lovers are kept apart. In one by their families, in the other by the destructive effect done to Ennis’ psyche. The theme of Romeo and Juliet can be expressed as a forbidden love that is nonetheless accomplished and consummated regardless the forbidding, and with tragic results. In Brokeback Mountain, the characters are not able to bring their love into fullness, not as a part of the theme, but as an actual embodiment of the theme itself. This, along with the specificity of the theme, is what makes the story unique, never once been done before. This is what removes it from the simplistic genre of “love story.” There are those who relish the love story component – and this is just fine. But, as a matter of literary analysis and film as art, it goes much, much deeper.

Thus, the emergence of yet another aspect of superior writing – the emergence of questions about thorny moral issues that may appear simple, and yet are highly complex. These moral issues include homosexuality, homophobia, society’s role therein, faithfulness, sexuality, abuse and control issues, familial and extra-familial relationships, etc., etc. These have all been hotly debated and discussed on this board and so I will not discuss them here. It is sufficient to recognize that Brokeback Mountain is of such a caliber that it has evoked such debate and discussion.

There are some who say that the only unique thing about this story is that the two lovers were gay. Otherwise, it’s been done a thousand times before. These people could not be more wrong or more ignorant. As I have shown in the preceding paragraphs, the theme is expounded by a love story plot, both interdependent, and each dependent on the characterizations of the people and of the actual landscape. They are inextricably intertwined with each other. As another poster very recently pointed out: If it had been a man and woman, “Would the characters be dealing with the same issues and subject to the same internal and external conflicts?” (Thanks, vaporize!)


(I hope no one is getting impatient, waiting for the end of this essay. I have only covered one aspect (the story) so far as to why this film is a masterpiece of art. I have many more to cover. Are you “getting” it? Also, please notice that NOT ONCE did I say it was a great story because of its subject matter.)



THE PRODUCTION VALUES – DIRECTION

A director takes a story and puts it to film. The way that the director uses (or directs) production values such as cinematography, music, location, sets and set design, costume, imagery, symbolism, foreshadowing, bookending, makeup, props, pacing, camera angles, CGI, and an attention to detail all weave together to create the final product. In the case of Ang Lee with Brokeback Mountain, the individual uses and the combined results far surpass ordinary filmmaking. And, again, a major aspect of this is a constant focus on the theme and plot of the story as they are inseparably joined in this film.

Cinematography/Camera Angle and Focus

Lee directed the cinematography of the film to great effect. He took great advantage of the natural, sweeping vistas of the Alberta landscape to produce the Wyoming mountain ranges, Brokeback Mountain, and the plains and meadows where the story is set. Crucial to this is that there is a characterization of the land itself, and of the separation of the types of land, each forged separately by the weather and geographic landforms such as streams and rivers.

He accomplished “mountain/land as character” through both the sweeping vistas of the mountains, and the tightly-viewed constraints of the populated areas, often within buildings. Instead of telling the viewer that the weather affected the characters’ developments, he showed it. He used far-off shots to show the coming effects, close shots for the events of the development, and several shots of water in various stages of agitation to create an image of nature as a force of human development. Specifically, in the case of the water, he, like the author, created a metaphor for the relationship using shots of still or rushing waters to exemplify the character of the relationship. A distinction was again drawn between natural and “city tap” water in a metaphor for the human-led and nature-led forces that developed the characters.

Many people have commented on the poetic dimension of AP’s prose as it subtly engages the reader with contrasting imageries to the commonalities of everyday objects or forces, such as the rivers and wind swept tree formation (including krummholz) and glacier-created slabs of malachite. Lee followed through with this theme in creating two very different perspectives in the film: first, of the open, natural freedom of the mountains, enabling a foundation for and a maturation of the love between Jack and Ennis; and second, of the tightly confined and restricted indoor settings and populated areas of the towns. They contrast against each other visually and in their separate contributions to the development of the characterizations of Jack and Ennis, their relationship forged in an unrestricted, un-judged environment and disabled by a societal homophobia exemplified by the stifling qualities of the interiors. Just as the flat plains were formed into populated areas by human presence, the mountains were formed by the forces of nature, each according to its understanding. Each contained and was governed by the elements that would define the relationship between Jack and Ennis.

But Lee went beyond a simple contrast between the two. He also created an effective merging of the two. The opening shots before Ennis’ arrival and the shots near the end of Ennis traveling home from Lightning Flat combine both a wide, expansive, and desolate vista of nature with a human-paved road running through, man’s input into the natural course of life. These shots are emblematic of Ennis’ journey to and from a discovery (the quest of the film/story) in placing Ennis as a traveler on a human pathway, laid out for him, but through the natural environment that always was and was without its judgments.

Similarly, he combined the two environments for the climactic final lake scene where Ennis’ two worlds collide as he is unable to withstand the pressure of “nature” and of “man.” Here, we have the final scene between Jack and Ennis placed on a man-made trailhead with a paved road running from it, and a placid lake separating them from the unpopulated natural environment of the mountains. And, in fact, he uses the cinematography here to great effectiveness as Jack, in a long-shot, derides what we have come to know as the foundation of their relationship as he, himself, sweeps his arms across the vista.

He directed the effect of a change from the beginning of the film to the end in terms of sweeping shots that were crisp and clear, infused with light, to staid shots that dulled and matted the picture toward the end, evoking the imagery of a ragtorn-edged piece of paper, thus exemplifying both the mood and the characterizations of the characters and their relationship.

An extremely effective camera angle is also at the final lake scene where we see Jack weighing his relationship with Ennis. Jack is in the foreground, Ennis is far behind. The camera slowly moves from one side of Jack to the other, changing focus from one to the other, as Ennis speaks and Jack contemplates. The camera movement itself shows us what is going on in Jack’s mind as Ennis speaks and the focus expounds on the meaning of Ennis’ words to Jack in his deliberation. This scene is not shot in deep-focus, and this highlights the separation of the two men.

Locations, Sets, and Set Design

Again, the distinctions between outdoor and indoor, mountain and plain, are very important. But the specific locations and sets also work together with these distinctions to provide more insight in the characters and the theme. It is important that all of the home-life that they built together was confined to a temporary tent erected and dismantled in moments. Each lived in actual houses (and apartment and trailer), but separately and for extended periods and always in areas where humans normally passed. Together, they had the vast open space of nature, and yet only a small tent that only the two of them could fit into. The exception to this, and it is a notable exception, is during the two reunion scenes (stairs and motel). Here, we see the impermanence and impossibility of their relationship existing within society by the fact that they had to hide their passion in an alcove and in a rented space (described in the short story as: “The room stank of semen and smoke and sweat and whiskey, of old carpet and sour hay, saddle leather, *beep* and cheap soap” with the banging of an unsecured door, a soiled orange chair, and the outside world’s interruption of a telephone’s ring.) This is highly contrasted against both their own homes in their separate lives and the “home” they were able to build once and tried to rebuild again and again.

I could talk about other locations/sets such as Ennis’ trailer which is loaded with stuff, yet still called upon by Jr. to be filled with even more (as society calls upon an individual’s life to be filled with certain things that it deems appropriate, i.e., a wife and children) and quizzically described by Ennis as “if you got nothin’, you don't need nothin’” (i.e., regardless the condition of his “home” and its furnishings, he has the one thing he does need, the memory of Jack, i.e., the shirts). Or I could talk about the significance of the Aguirre trailer to Ennis’. Or of the placement of the apartment in Riverton above a laundry and next to an Elk Lodge. But I won’t. I said I'm only going to give a few examples.

But I cannot leave this subject without discussing the visual, symbolic, and metaphoric significance of Jack’s childhood home. Here, Lee created a small, desolate home, on a rundown ranch. Its exterior is fading and dilapidating. Its interior is whitewashed, sterile, and devoid of life and love. Lee used the Asian color symbolism of white as grief/death to symbolize not only Jack’s recent death, but of the death of the human spirit in such an environment. Thus, he, again, stayed true to the story where Jack was described as being “crazy to be somewhere, anywhere, else than Lightning Flat,” because Jack was full of and pursued “life.” The stairway to Jack’s room, with “its own climbing rhythm,” is a metaphor, evocative of the mountain climb that Ennis had to first make to discover love and which he now makes to discover the fullness of the love. Jack’s room is dressed with the trappings of a little boy, prepubescent. It is not a teenager’s room nor an adult’s. There is a window that looks out onto “the only road he knew” – a road away from Lightning Flat, a road to a place of his own. Since this is not an academic essay, I will only say that the fact that the shirts were hidden in Jack’s closet (and later in Ennis’) speaks for itself.

Practically the only color that we see in the house is in Jack’s mother’s clothing and in Jack’s clothing and bed covering, each signifying the symbolism of “life” with “love” that was shared between son and mother, the only person who knew, understood, and, at least tacitly, approved of the relationship between Jack and Ennis. It is significant that only one other object in the house has vivid color, and it screams out in its obvious presence. There is a green bowl in the kitchen. Green is the color of the natural life of the trees and foliage of the mountain that connect the land (brown, symbolizing Ennis) and the sky (blue, symbolizing Jack). Green is the color of their relationship and their relationship is symbolized in this scene by the open, yet empty green bowl.

There are literally thousands of other examples of effective use of location, set, set design and dressing, and props that went into the visual presentation and that were placed to propel the story, to evoke imagery, to create symbolism – strung together to form metaphor, and for many other layers of purpose. This speaks to another aspect of superior filmmaking, an attention to detail. Was every single detail accounted for? No, of course not. Are there “goofs”? Of course. Is Brokeback Mountain “perfect”? No. No film is. But one of the reasons that this film is a masterpiece of art is that where it suffers most is not in its story, its direction, its choice of locations, sets, or set decoration. Where it suffers most is in trivial “goofs” such as a disappearing log or a late model car passed by on the street in a matter of a split second. But where the film/story is perfect, is in its story, its direction, and its execution and structure.

Imagery, Symbolism, Foreshadowing, Bookending

Here, several more aspects of superior filmmaking. The lists of the imageries, symbolisms, metaphors, foreshadowings, mirrorings and bookendings of scenes and of shots is far too extensive to address properly in an essay as short as this one. There are a number of threads that discuss these issues very well. By delicately and not obviously threading these into and throughout the film, Lee has created a complex exposition of the main characters and their relationship. The essence of their relationship is captured in numerous metaphors from buckets to beans, from colors to alcohols, from diseases to cowboy hats. Some people have said “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Unfortunately, this is a very ignorant comment to make about this film. It not only contains some symbolism, it is fully infused with it. The symbolisms are consistent throughout the film. The comment shows an ignorance of four very important words in the film: “Directed by Ang Lee.” Ang Lee is known for his highly creative and regular use of symbolism and metaphor throughout his films. The same is also true of AP’s writing, although she is even more geared toward symbolic imagery. Take, for example, the symbolism of the gun/rifle as a metaphor for the relationship. The gun/rifle is not ever-present. It/they is/are seen only at specific times and specific ways. And each of the many ways that we see the gun/rifle, occur exactly two times. Exactly two times the gun is holstered, or cocked, or carried, and each occurrence of the couplet is linked to the other both visually and symbolically. This is also true of the other symbolic elements throughout the film. Hundreds of symbolic elements that occur exactly as can be understood within a specific symbolism… not intentional? What are the odds?

Lee excels in his use of foreshadowing and mirroring/bookending. The most effective use of foreshadowing is that each time the boys sing or hum or play the harmonica (i.e., make music), it foreshadows Jack’s death. This is an unexpected contrast: seemingly happy and merry music-making foreshadows a violent death. He also mirrored many scenes and shots (this is where so many elements of a particular shot are present in two different shots as to draw a connection between the two shots for a stronger understanding of each and both shots). A good example is the scene where Aguirre rides up to Jack to deliver a message, peering through his binoculars, saying “Here I am,” and bringing a new awareness to Jack. This is mirrored in the post-divorce scene: an arrival, a message (understood one way at first and another way later), the eyes of society, the words “Here I am,” and a new awareness for Jack. There are also numerous bookends (these are when one motif is begun in one scene and finalized in another). The most significant example is probably the scene at the beginning where Ennis arrives having traveled a long, lonely road with only a paper bag containing a shirt, bookended by the scene at the end where we see Ennis, traveling a long, lonely road with only a paper bag containing the shirts. This is not a mirror scene. It is a bookend because it signifies a beginning and an end to the journey of Ennis. Again, there are literally hundreds of examples of these throughout the film and relatively few are caught on a single viewing. How many people understood the significance of the red and white stars on the swing set on one viewing? Did anyone “get” the bread bags on the first viewing? How about the number “17”? In fact, do we need the short story to understand this? Or is it contained in the film itself? All of this speaks to the film releasing more and more of its details on subsequent viewings – another indicia of superior filmmaking.

Music

Lee made effective use of the music to evoke, not emotions in the viewers, but imageries both seen and to come. Depending on how one counts them, there are at least 25 individual pieces of music used in the film. They are not repeated over and over. Each of the plinky-plunky pieces of music of Santaolalla is repeated once (and one could argue twice for one piece) and always with a symbolic connection to its other appearance. For example, the piece played during the horse riding sequence immediately prior to the “move-to-Texas” scene is evocative of the stagnancy of their relationship as it had not even begun its development in the beginning of the film when we first heard the music. Although some may think that Jack and Ennis are so very in-tune with each other, in their element, in the horse riding scene, they in fact are miles apart as the music informs us. For a contrast in an ineffectual, melodramatic, “you must feel this way” use of music, watch Braveheart. You won’t be able to get the theme song out of your head for weeks. It’s driven in like a drill bit boring through one’s skull. In contrast, the multitude of individual pieces of music in Brokeback Mountain evoke very specific imageries, sometimes similar, sometimes contrasting. In fact, technically, this film does not have a theme song. One was chosen more by default than by intention.


(OK, now I've talked about two reasons why this film is a masterpiece by the commonly-recognized standards. On to number three…)

(cont.)

TOoP/Bruce:
Re: Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art   
by ClancyPantsNasty (Fri Dec 29 2006 01:43:42 )   
Ignore this User | Report Abuse   
UPDATED Tue Feb 20 2007 16:20:45
(cont.)

SCENE/FILM EDITING

This is another criterion by which a film is judged. Again, Brokeback Mountain surpasses the standards that have been set by typical Hollywood fare (is it any wonder that this is not a Hollywood film?).

Individual shots establish elements that, when taken together into an entire scene, produce or evoke a mood. In superior films, the shots and scenes are subtle, giving the viewer a glimpse of the mood to be exposed. Compare the approximately 90 shots in the shower scene of Hitchcock’s Psycho and how the moods of tension, surprise, horror, violence and death are achieved, against the ultra-long, often single shot scenes of the teenaged girl walking down into a basement (without bothering to turn the lights on) in almost any low-budget horror flick out there. Lee used his shots and scenes to establish moods, to expose emotions, turmoil, and conflict. The joyous reunion at the stairs is markedly interrupted by the shot of Alma looking out the door. In a matter of a dozen shots in one scene, we see the pent-up emotions of the main characters explode in confusion, joy, and yearning, while also seeing a very different effect of the appearance of Jack on Alma. Her quick shutting of the door followed immediately by her slow walk across a few feet of kitchen tell the viewer more about her and her character at that moment than any kind of quick-paced, frenzied outburst could have. It’s the subtly of the shots that convey the dramatically profound emotional turmoil that has passed from Ennis to Alma in a mere glimpse of the two men kissing. It draws the viewer in, whether understanding Ennis and his emotions (regardless of one’s sexuality) or in understanding Alma’s turmoil. Many emotions are conveyed by the three actors and are transferred to the audience – not by throwing it into one’s face, but by realistically showing something that just about anybody can find some emotional connection to. We are never told what to feel. There are too many conflicting emotions being shown all at once in numerous scenes. We must pick and choose. And to those of us who watch the film repeatedly, these often change over and over again. Yet another aspect of superior filmmaking.

The transitions between scenes are crucial for an understanding of the progression of the plot – and in this film’s case, the exposition of the theme since the two are nearly inseparable. Sometimes the scenes must glide into each other such as the transition between Ennis leaving Jack’s boyhood home to him driving the long road home. The transition takes us from seeing and experiencing Ennis’ emotions of the meeting with Jack’s parents and the discovery of the shirts to experiencing Ennis’ later processing of these events. It further accomplishes this by bookending with the first scene of the film, evoking the empty, friendless, loneliness that Ennis must feel.

Sometimes it’s important for a scene to jump harshly such as the transitions from Ennis’ collapse, to the dozy embrace, to Jack’s disillusioned look as he watches Ennis drive away for the last time. The harshness of the initial jump (fade) is contrasted by the incredibly powerful flashback to the time of “the single moment of artless, charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives.” Jack is taken from a time when “they were no longer young men with all of it before them” to a time “when they owned the world and nothing seemed wrong.”

Lee used a wide variety of transition techniques. Interestingly, the most-common “make-a-statement” transition, the fade-to-black, is used only three times (well, technically four, but the last one is the fade to the credits) among approximately 159 scenes (again, depending on how one counts them). Instead of using them to make a strong statement that is supposed to cause the audience to ponder, Lee uses two of them to shift from a deeply emotional state of pain to a deeply emotional state of emptiness. And for the third one, he reverses these emotional states. (These are not listed in order, by the way.)

He also used words to transition (“honey”), objects (stairs/steps), music, symbolic elements (black flowing water), time stamps (full moons), activity (heterosexual anal sex), and sometimes a physical movement (baby handholding). In each case, the transitions are effectively used to tie scenes together or to purposefully contrast scenes, to expound on the characterizations, or to denote a passage or reversal of time. When the transition appears choppy, it is quite intentionally meant to be that way because these jar the viewer with a new awareness, again, another sign of superior filmmaking. The rhythms match, the continuity flows, and the transitions propel. One sure sign of bad film editing is when a shot lingers obviously long on a character’s reaction before transitioning into the next scene. This is what produces melodrama. Lee avoided this as the story avoided gratuity. It is no wonder that Ang Lee was highly honored with so many nominations and wins of awards for his directing.

Lee’s pacing throughout the film is another reason he achieved great critical acclaim for his directing. The scenes that are supposed to involve a slowness of emotion or spirit or of the relationship, are slowly paced. The scenes that are supposed to show high contrast or movement are quickly paced. Compare, for example, the scene where Lureen does her ride to the scene in the bus station. Lureen is shown as a flashy, no-nonsense girl who goes after what she wants and gets it. The pace is very fast as is the whirlwind of her initial relationship with Jack. In the bus station, Ennis is in an emotional dead-zone. Nothing much matters to him. (Contrast the speed with which he ate elk and beans to the speed with which he eats his pie.) Enter Cassie, looking all perky. But then she notices Ennis, comes over, and they talk. The lines are delivered slowly, infused with the very different emotions of the characters. The pauses between the lines are long with moments of character reflection instead of deliberate head-on drive. The scene ends with a shot on Ennis that is just long enough for us to see that his light bulb has come on, but without an overtly contorted face to smack us upside the head with the revelation. The film then paces quickly to the death postcard scene and the Lureen phone call scene as Ennis is rushing through all of the emotions that are overtaking him. Then, the pacing slows again as Ennis is now on a mission (which really turns out to be a quest or discovery). And the pacing is effectively used by Lee to build the tension in the room between the characters in the Twist home.

Similarly, Lee uses the pacing to build the boys relationship on the mountain. We feel the long and complicated dance that they do with each other before their passions erupt in the first tent scene. There are approximately 159 scenes in a film that is 134 minutes long. The pacing of scenes one to another cannot be described as slow. The pacing within individual scenes can be, and only in a very few, and they are specifically placed and paced for filmic effect. Another sign of superior filmmaking.

Another example of Lee’s mastery of scene development is exemplified by his use of a “bad technique” to overwhelming success. It is generally considered a bad idea to leave a scene without resolution of the scene (that is, of the particular event that occurs within that particular scene), unless, of course, it is one of a series of scenes moving to an ultimate resolution; however, this is infrequently done well. What Lee did in a lot of the scenes was to leave the action (the plot, that is) unresolved while at the same time bringing resolution to the theme point that was actually lingering in the background behind what we actually saw and heard going on. In each scene, there is always some aspect of the theme being expounded on. Lee focused the film on threading the theme elements together and he did this by both resolving the particular theme elements within individual scenes and by leaving plot elements unresolved so that when the same plot element was raised again later, the two aspects of the plot element would, once again, expound on the theme, bringing resolution then. This is a very uncommon filmic practice, mainly because most films do not focus on a theme, they focus on a story; but also because it is very, very difficult to do. Lee has shown a mastery of this technique in a number of his films and has been singled out by critics for his mastery of this.


(Three down, three to go…)



THE EFFECTS ON THE VIEWERS

One of the greatest accomplishments of a great film is to establish a connection with a vast part of the viewing audience. Brokeback Mountain realized this even to the surprise of all who were involved in its production. It was initially intended to a limited-release, art house film. No actors would be forever defined by their performances or by these characters. But within weeks of its limited releases and screenings at film festivals, the critical acclaim poured in. Once again, have I even once credited its greatness with its subject matter? Nor did the critics. The reviews consistently praised the film for its achievements in film as art. It was awarded the Venice Film Festivals’ Golden Lion months before its release ( if you do not know, this award is one of the most prestigious awards to be given out). And the nominations and awards flooded in. When it was released, it became the break-away film of the season. It did not break box-office receipt records, but it earned more per production dollar than any other film of the year. Audiences were lining up at sold-out theaters to see the film. And as they exited, a very common reaction was to feel gut-punched by the emotional impact of the film. It was only at this time that the decision was made to put it into wide-release.

The emotional impact of the film comes directly from the film’s unique ability to connect with so many different people from diverse backgrounds and cultures, on many different levels. It does this, once again, by focusing on the theme and the characterizations, with the story driving both home. The characters experience loss, abandonment, determination, refusal, degradation, love, loneliness, friendship, attraction, confusion, acceptance, disillusionment, shock, grief, anger, hatred, hope, joy, reconciliation, desire, needing, understanding, forgiving, atonement, caring, ministering, frustration, giddy jocularity, embarrassment, self-degradation, denial… All emotions and conditions with which any person can relate in some way. One need not be a gay man, or a woman scorned, or an emotional basket case… One need only to have had a mature experience with any of the emotions portrayed because they do not specifically speak to the love and loss these two men went through, they speak to the entire panoply that make up these characters’ lives. Because of this emotional connection that so many people experienced, to varying degrees, these characters came to life for audiences world-wide. Single elements of what the characters went through can be taken out of the film, personalized, and used for revelation or change in a person’s life. This is one of the film’s greatest accomplishments.

One way that the film accomplished this was by not spoon-feeding us what we are to think or feel. There is no definitive message from the film. Of all things that the film is, the one thing that it most certainly is not is a gay agenda film. It is a very nuanced view into the lives of the characters. It is honest, straight-forward, not entangled by cliché. The dramatic vistas inspire in the viewer awe. We get a strong sense of who these men are and why they are as they are. Regardless whether we can engage ourselves with their homosexuality, we can engage ourselves with many other facets of these multi-dimensional characters. This is another significant attribute of a great film and a great story – the multi-dimensionality of the characters and the subtle exposition of the same. Their experience becomes our own. By not telling us what to think or how to feel or what we are to get out of the film, we become engaged in the film as we must leave with unanswered questions that relate also to the unanswered questions in our own lives.

It may be significant to point out that, contrary to popular, mistaken belief, this film was not warmly welcomed by the entire gay community. There have been numerous articles written about the fact that many young, urban, gay men did not like this film at all. They felt no connection to men who were rural, rough-spoken, rough-mannered, ill-at-ease with their sexuality, dishonest about the same with themselves and each other, and set in a distant and unfamiliar time and place. They viewed it as just another movie wherein the gay guy dies. More mature gay men have chastised the younger ones for not having an appreciation or respect for the path that was laid out for them on the broken backs of gay men who had the balls to stand up to the police at Stonewall.

Another reason for the gut-punch effect of the film is that the film, time and time again, did NOT give us what we would normally expect. People are very complex and this film kept them that way. In most films there is a sort of a shorthand by which we know that if someone does or says “A”, then “B” must follow. And it usually does. Not so here. Notice how Jack described his father. Notice how Ennis described his own father. Two very different men, described very differently. Thus it comes as a shock that Ennis’ father turned out to be so rabidly homophobic that he could have himself killed Earl. And so what then do we expect out of Old Man Twist? And do we get it? We can call him mean, angry, bitter, and controlling, but there is no evidence in the Twist family home scene that says that he is actively homophobic. In fact, he is just the opposite. Instead of deriding Ennis for being gay, the old man derides Ennis for NOT embracing his gay relationship and moving up with Jack to take care of and help out at the ranch. Jack’s father is much more concerned about what will be done to help him with the ranch than with the sex lives of those who help. Additionally, how many people clenched their cheeks after the first tent scene when Ennis was holding the rifle and Jack emerged from the tent? Many people have said they half expected Ennis to shoot Jack or to at least punch him. He did not. Instead, he rode off, did some thinking, and then announced that they would have an on-going relationship (of an indeterminate duration).

This film has also engaged viewers by getting them to ask questions. Not just about “how did Jack die” or “did Lureen know?”; rather, people are questioning very highly-charged morality questions, questions of true social impact. And yet, the film never once told us what to think, feel or believe. Discussions have ranged from sex education to religious issues to Jake’s blue eyes to buckets and coffeepots to “I love you” and on and on. The film has been deconstructed in an uncountable number of ways, bit by bit. This is another attribute of a film’s quality of greatness.

So who does not connect with the film? There are probably a hundred equally valid answers to this question. From my year of watching and participating in this board and the one at BetterMost, what I have noticed is that a lot of people do not connect because they have never and will never see the film. They have heard and believed the buzz. If they choose to live their lives according to others’ insight and rules, let ‘em. A lot are homophobic. I do not throw this label around willy-nilly. It takes a lot for me to make this assessment of someone. But anyone who spends even a few hours looking at the posts on this board cannot deny that there are rabidly vile homo-haters out there who seek to do nothing but destroy. As I said, there are the young, urban gay men who did not feel a connection – not all, some. Some seem to not connect because they cannot understand that Ennis’ problems could not be solved by a change in location. His problems were not due to geography; they were due to his own internal emotional disconnect.

But it seems to me that the most common type of person I have seen who did not feel a connection with this film would be people who, for whatever personal reasons they may have, do not take the time to place their own myopic world-view on hold for two hours to step into someone else’s shoes and try to see the world from a different perspective. They are too comfortable in their niche to be disturbed to try an understanding of the forces at work in our world against our fellow men and women. For all that I have been able to do, I have tried to step into Jack’s and Ennis’ shoes and see what they see of the world in which they are written. It is all too real and it is all too disturbing. No one should have to see the world in such a way. This very message board has shown me more about the disgusting attributes of human hatred than I have seen personally in 70+ years. And that is a very sad comment, double entendre notwithstanding. So much for a gay agenda film.


(Getting close… two more reasons why Brokeback Mountain is a masterpiece of art.)

(cont.)

TOoP/Bruce:
Re: Why Brokeback Mountain is a Masterpiece of Art   
by ClancyPantsNasty (Fri Dec 29 2006 01:47:00 )   
Ignore this User | Report Abuse   
UPDATED Tue Jan 2 2007 20:43:18
(cont.)

ACTORS AND PERFORMANCES

I’m going to keep this one brief. A lot of one’s perception of a film comes from one’s perception of the actors and their performances. Much of this is subjective. Thus, I only want to address the aspects that can be judged against some sort of standard.

Elements of great acting include the ability of the actor is make the character become real, to resonate with audiences, to transform into something other than the actor. The actors in this film, almost without exception, far surpassed the standard of acting performance. Heath Ledger has been singled out almost universally for actually becoming Ennis Del Mar. His portrayal of an intensely homophobic, masculine gay man who is tied-up in knots on the inside, unable to express himself adequately, living his life as a closed fist, was nothing short of spectacular. He convinced audiences that there really was a man named Ennis whom they were watching. Even the critics who have published negative reviews of the film have singled out Ledger’s performance as the defining performance of a lifetime. He took a written character and brought it to life as the deeply complex man that Ennis is. He created a character that has to be watched many times in order to even begin to scratch the surface and discover what makes Ennis tick. “Mumbles,” as I like to call him, did not give a rat’s ass about complaints that might be leveled against his performance for his short and stunted line delivery. Ledger understood the character inside and out and knew how to portray him regardless of people’s inability to understand him – this is one of the most effective ways that he brought the character to life. AP, the author, has herself said that Ledger’s performance understood Ennis even better than she herself did. And she created him!

The actors’ performances ring of truth and give a realism to their characters’ situations and circumstances. They tapped into our emotions and never tried to steal a scene or over-emote. They kept the story character-driven regardless how audiences would like or dislike the characters. They kept it real. As the American Film Institute said when it chose Brokeback Mountain as one of its Movies of the Year:

“The film is a triumph of acting--Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal bring power and poignancy to two people caught in an emotional maelstrom, without the means to understand their feelings, or the words to express them. The film is a tragic meditation on loneliness, and yet a powerful celebration of friendship and love beyond our control.”


(I want to keep this essay short, so I'm only going to discuss one more reason…)



CONSTRUCTION AND STRUCTURE

Putting all of the aforementioned elements together into a cohesive whole goes far beyond mere directing and editing. It goes beyond the story because it takes into account all of the elements of the production. Brokeback Mountain is structured as a character-driven exposition on the destructive effects of rural homophobia. It never diverted from this theme. Thus, one of the unusual – but not unique – things that Lee did was to open the film with simply the title and no other opening credits. He let the story naturally unfold before us, all of us unaware just how central a character-role Brokeback Mountain itself would take in the cast of characters; thus, the title of the film becomes an actual introduction of the film’s central character.

Behind each line there is also subtext, what the character is really saying, and behind this there a symbolic level to almost every line in the film, and behind this there is a metaphor running through the film that incorporates nearly every line. All of the dialogue is infused with meanings much more highly complex than the simple words themselves. This is why the prose of AP is so incredibly powerful and why it is so sparse. Because each and every word has meaning that grows with its connections with other words and their meanings. Three simple words, “Jack, I swear…” have been dissected and discussed from every possible angle and from all kinds of backgrounds and understandings. Those three words have been tied into words and events in at least a dozen other scenes. This masterful infusion of meaning on at least four recognized literary levels has given a complexity to the film that few films have ever attained. The construction is layer upon layer upon layer. This is another aspect of “getting” or “understanding” the film. It is a long process that no-one – NO-ONE – gets on a single viewing. By building up this complexity and the questioning that naturally follows, this film, again, draws us into a deep connection with the most complex and question-wrought character in the film – Brokeback Mountain itself.



CONCLUSION

Are there other aspects or criteria used for judging whether a film is a masterpiece of art? Absolutely. And if anyone wants to list some of them, I’d be more than happy to expound on them as well.

Did Welles create a new kind of filmmaking with Citizen Kane? Were his techniques unique? Many critics say “No.” What he did do was bring together all of the previously disparate techniques of filmmaking – directing, editing, cinematography, and story – and he put them all together in a new way that treated film as art instead of as entertainment. In fact, much of what he did was derivative of earlier German films. Lee has done something similar with his treatment of Brokeback Mountain. He has used many of the common and not-so-common “tricks of the trade”; but, what is unique is that he has turned them upside-down and inside-out. He has used them in ways not done before and for greater effect. He has set a new bar for serious filmmakers.

There is so much more to get out of this film than a simple love story: Man meets man, man wants man, man gets man, man loses man, The End. This is an unbelievably simplistic viewing of the film that is ignorant of the multi-layered, multi-faceted, richly-textured and intricately-woven characterizations that drive the theme of the movie.

My good friend, latjoreme, already posted what she called a “long” ( ) post on many of these same issues. I have attacked this from the perspective of the film as a masterpiece of art. I encourage you to also, or instead, read her post:

http://bettermost.net/forum/index.php/topic,10718.0.html

(BTW – In case you’ve ever wondered just how long the short story is, it’s approximately 80 words longer than this post of mine. And it’s a much better read.)

In agreement and homage, I end my post with the same words latjoreme used to end her post:

“Anyway, whenever I hear that someone doesn’t love it, I also feel a bit sorry for them, because they’re really missing out.”

Meryl:
Thank you for reposting this great thread, Bruce!  It's really nice to have it here at BetterMost where we know it's safe.  8)

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