Brokeback Mountain
The usually spot-on Ang Lee misfires somewhat in this well-intentioned romance, but there's nothing in its frames that is remotely as groundbreaking as the hype surrounding the film would have you believe. What makes this stand out from the many other films at this point that have featured gay characters—because it has a brief sex scene between two relatively well-known Hollywood actors? Big deal. The attempt to make a landmark film by placing gay characters in the same tragic-romance formula heterosexuals have inhabited since the beginning of cinema only creates the same maudlin, underwhelming experience you get by watching most of those films. There's also an indefinable sense that the internal timeline of the film is out of whack somehow: characters have reactions to certain scenarios five years down the road from when they should have had them. Add a completely unbelievable cowboy (gay or straight) in Jake Gyllenhaal, a pathetic make-up job in aging the young cast 20 years (just throw a grayish mustache on Gyllenhaal and a big blond wig on Hathaway, that'll work) and a grating music score by Gustavo Santaolalla, and Brokeback ends up more of a distracting experience than anything else.
The movie isn't all bad, mind you, just ordinary. The photography is anything but ordinary, however, and Lee and cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto capture the majestic visual backdrop for the story beautifully. Heath Ledger is actually quite good as a conflicted man uncomfortable in his own skin, as opposed to Gyllenhaal's character, who is perfectly OK with who he is while playing along with society's rules. But it's Ledger's on- and off-screen partner, Michelle Williams, who is truly superb as his devastated wife. One of Brokeback's strongest points is the distinctness of each character and their own particular story, whether it's up on the screen or simply implied. That's a rare and refreshing occurrence in Hollywood films these days, but unfortunately the sum of stories just isn't that interesting.