With it being Pride month, Brokeback Mountain seemed like the obvious viewing choice during a road trip through Montana and Wyoming. I have always been peripherally aware of this film, in particular the scene of two cowboys kissing in a tent. Still, I had never watched the whole thing, read the short story it originated from, or even really paid attention to what narrative was being played out in the first place. My fascination with the film was only made more palpable by a meme account reposting Trisha Paytas and her disregard for Hot Girl summer in lieu of a Brokeback summer. Now, after doing my research, I feel equipped to unpack the elusive concept of this so-called Brokeback summer.
For once, it would appear the film and story don’t stray too far from one another. Though I must say the short story arguably does a better job of humanizing the main characters, and honestly leaves more to the imagination of the audience, which in this case is a plus. Regardless, in the plot we see two strangers with similar, rough and tumble upbringings, Ennis and Jack, grow closer and closer one winter while tending to sheep on Brokeback Mountain. One cold evening, Jack, taking a leap into the unknown, makes a pass at Ennis and from there the rest is history. From the jump, their relationship is extremely violent. To the point, that I don’t feel the need to romanticize any of it. Certainly, they had their moments of intimacy. Yet, that all seems to come crashing down as we see fists and words flung about with the clear intent of bringing about pain to one another. In reality, they’re fighting themselves and the piece of their identity that would ultimately ostracize them from the only lives they know.
Exploring the natural expanse of this part of the country, one can begin to understand the environment the film takes place in. In a vast landscape of beauty, it’s hard to not begin to feel so small. The mountains seem to roll on forever, and even though they exist miles and miles away, you still rest at their feet. Up high, the rest of the world can seem so small and insignificant. No matter where you are, seeing the valleys, roads, and an untouched sky exist so freely and openly, the contrast of lives that are lived largely in isolation and closed off is starkly felt. Furthermore, to only ever know this place, a climate of volatility and brief moments of bliss, is to be unknowingly hardened by the elements. It is this ruggedness that so characterizes Jack and Ennis, but one would be remiss to not notice the soft, splendor their love affords one another, something found also observing nature preserved.
Of course, what Jack and Ennis have cannot last, at least not in the conventional sense. Throughout their years together, Jack holds onto to the fantasy that one day they will finally build a life with each other. Physically, he literally fights for the affection he feels he deserves. In an ideal world, he could’ve pulled Ennis into submission, but I’m left wondering if that really would have been any better. Perhaps what makes this love story so remarkable, outside of the imagery of mountains and crystal clear watering holes, is the wavering question of “what if.” For both of them, their fishing trips together served as a taste for what they could be. Yet by that same token, their fits of rage with one another show their potential just as clearly. So much so, that their two blood-soaked shirts become momentos of their relationship.
The most heartbreaking piece of this story is the fact that no one seems to really win. This is teased out in it’s closing words: “if you can’t fix it you’ve got to stand it.” The dreamer, Jack, who wishes to start a life with Ennis, meets a fate that is foreshadowed earlier in the film. This is because Jack is a man lost in between, living in a fantasy world, waiting for his lover to join him. Here, we see how powerful and counterintuitive yearning for someone just out of our reach can be. In his eyes, Ennis has left him to fend for himself to satisfy the urges that take hold of him.
More interestingly, their love for one another is one that relies on their not being together. In an ideal world, where they could fully actualize their relationship, it is almost certain that it would fail, expeditiously. The second they no longer had lives to run away from, a secret to share, or, ultimately, an itch to scratch, the facade of their connection with each other would likely come crumbling down. That is the allure of Brokeback Mountain; love sustained on the edge of what could be, and what must never be.
Ennis, scared of himself, banishing any real capacity to show love or emotion, has no connection with his own family, the people he was supposedly thinking of when it came down to the wire. He truly only ever cared for himself, but only superficially. Refusing yourself what you so desire, while also rupturing the family you played a hand in creating seems so implausible, but so many people continue to live out this script today. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in thinking we’re doing the right thing that we lose sight of who we’re even doing it all for.
Seeing this part of the world firsthand, and in more ways than one, has made me think about how much society has done to come together, unfortunately at the expense of nature. It’s as though the closer we try to get, the further we grow apart. Bigger cities and smarter phones preach connectivity, but both seem to go at odds with our humanity. Beautifully, exploring the great outdoors, it is clear more has been preserved than I ever imagined, and even still it’s only a fraction of what once was. Escaping from false connections into brief, meaningful bliss, seems to encapsulate the most positive thing I can gather from this film. To chase this elusive Brokeback summer, is to embrace the freedom that our everyday lives deprive us of. There is something distinctively carefree in the bubbly air that takes hold of Ennis and Jack as they escape the lives that cruelly steal their happiness.
The desire to run away from life, and to take solace in the crisp, cool tucked away world of summer in the mountains, had never crossed my mind. In the throes of it all, laying under a blanket, watching the Sun shrink away behind jutting edges of rock, I found reinvigoration. The energy I didn’t even know I had lost, a life force replenished, suddenly snapped me back to life. I will never be a full-time mountain man, toughing it out in the elements, but brief excursions, as almost shocks to the system, have shown me a side of myself that has clearly gone untended to.
Brokeback Mountain is a lesson in what happens when we become complacent with the narratives handed to us. I see how sad it can be to know something so special, but having to keep it at arm’s distance. Ennis and Jack left a piece of themselves on Brokeback Mountain, and instead of trying to create something new, they chose to subsist off of those memories. In envisioning a Brokeback summer, I say we get rid of the secrecy and self-hatred that led to this tragedy. Let’s also shed the burden we carry of trying to will the impossible possible. In Brokeback summer we are embracing what life casts our way, but remaining mindful of what does and does not serve us. There is power in meeting others where you feel comfortable, and in loving them how you wish to be loved. Summer is only here for so long, and we deserve to enjoy every second of it.
