One of my favorite romantic movies is Brokeback Mountain, the Oscar-winning film by Ang Lee. I remember seeing the film way back in 2005 when it was first released. It’s visual beauty, complicated characters, and tragic storyline made for compelling viewing. Ang Lee is one of my favorite directors; Sense and Sensibility is in my top 10 films of all time.
The film is not without its baggage; neither the director nor the screenwriters, Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry, publicly identify as LGBTQ. The writer of the original short story, Annie Proulx, does not identify as such either. The four stars, Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Anne Hathaway, and Michelle Williams are not LGBTQ. In fact, as far as I could tell, none of the major crew members were either. Of course, I’m sure someone on the production team was an LGBTQIA+ individual. Or maybe I missed something on my research. But the question arises: does that matter?
One of the best things about Brokeback Mountain is the collectivity of its directive. Yes, the film tells a specific story about specific people in a very specific society. The story would be different had it taken place anywhere else in America in any other time period. Through specificity, however, universality can be found. Ang Lee didn’t make a “gay love story,” but a love story that just so happened to feature two men.
I can imagine that having a straight director brought more attention to Brokeback Mountain than an LGBTQ one would have. It adds credence and weight to the “universal” label. And let’s not forget visibility. Brokeback Mountain went on to gross $178 million worldwide at the box office and won three Academy Awards, including Best Director for Ang Lee. The film famously lost the Best Picture Oscar to Crash. Many, myself included, have theorized that Crash’s victory was the Academy choosing the “racism” film over the “gay” film.
Let’s look at the Academy Awards this year: Tom Hooper’s The Danish Girl walked away with four Oscar nominations, including one each for stars Eddie Redmayne and Alicia Vikander. The film has been met with controversy since its inception, and its sanitized take on pioneer Lili Elbe’s story didn’t help much. But the film came prepackaged as a “prestige movie,” simply because of the pedigree of its cast and crew: Academy Award winners Hooper and Redmayne, with hot new talent Vikander. The Danish Girl is hardly worth the time or the awards attention, save for perhaps Vikander’s performance, which rescued the entire production. It’s a bland, self-congratulatory film that is neither socially relevant nor creatively crafted.
Directors like Andrew Haigh (Weekend) or Todd Haynes (Carol) may be known and respected within the cinephile community but even they have to struggle with the label of “gay director.” Haigh got into the Oscar discussion and the mainstream through his marriage drama 45 Years, about a straight couple. Haynes has never quite cracked into the A-list and couldn’t get an Oscar nomination for Carol, despite its widespread acclaim.
Brokeback Mountain benefits from a delicate hand behind the camera. The film is poetic and passionate. There’s no doubt in my mind that Ang Lee was the right director for the job. However, as Carol showed, a Todd Haynes directed version might have been equally interesting. At the end of the day, all I want is a good LGBTQIA+ movie, one that respects our stories and honors our histories. For me, Brokeback Mountain is one such film. I would always like to see more LGBTQIA+ filmmakers get opportunities and acclaim, but that is a major hurdle that cannot be overcome so easily. That desire for more inclusion behind the camera, however, does not diminish the high quality of Brokeback Mountain.
