The movie that haunts me still...

Rating: 10/10 (13 January 2006)

Frankly, I wasn't thrilled when my friends suggested we all go see "Brokeback Mountain". It just didn't seem to be a movie I'd enjoy, but when the group votes, you go along & ultimately enjoy the fellowship if not the film.
"Brokeback Mountain", however, caught me totally off-guard. Here is a story, and what a story it is! The characters are REAL, the story is well crafted and tears at the heart, the scenery is breathtaking ... and the actors deliver remarkable and unforgettable performances.
In particular, Heath Ledger is wonderful as the cowboy who struggles to deal with his feelings. But also, Roberta Maxwell is unforgettable ... those few minutes on screen and her delivery of the dialog is absolutely amazing ... in my opinion, she deserves a best supporting actress Oscar, for she truly "got it" with her interpretation of Jack's mother.
The movie has haunted me ever since I saw it a week ago, and I've spent the time since selling it to my friends and family. Everyone needs to see this movie, with open heart and mind. Why can't I forget it? Why does hearing the music even bring tears to my eyes?
My grandmother had a photo album of images from her childhood through her old age ... in it was a picture of a tall, handsome man in a dark suit. I remember as a child asking, "Grandma who is that man?" Her expression changed from joy to sorrow ... "That is Nick Carpenter, my first boyfriend," she replied. "He died in the first world war." She watched that snapshot fade for over 60 years.
Also a great aunt, Elizabeth, in her old age when her body and her mind were failing, would arise each morning, get dressed in her finest dress, and sit by the front window, waiting for a man. While family record does not preserve the name of this man, we know he was not my Uncle David.
Perhaps that is the haunting appeal of "Brokeback Mountain"; perhaps it's the memory of a lost love in our own life that, for whatever reason, never worked out -- and the sad recollections of what might have been, which are oftentimes far more moving than mourning what actually was.