Crying at the discotheque cinema

Stupid Brokeback Mountain.

Made me break my 3-year record of not crying in public.

How am I supposed to maintain my super-butch, motorcycle-ridin’, short-haircut-sportin’, King Gee wearin’ persona when Heath Ledger makes me blubber? Huh?

So, a couple of things:

1 How Heath Ledger got all the award nominations is beyond me. His performance method appeared to me to simply involve wiring his jaw shut, scrunching up his face and kicking the dirt a few times.

2 Could they have laid the soul-destorying abject poverty on any thicker? I was waiting for Michelle Williams to sell her kidney and start cooking dust for dinner, ferchrissakes.

3 I felt like punching the people in the seats behind me who chuckled and giggled for far too long when Michelle Williams discovered Heath and Jake gettin-it-on.

4 Heath’s character was a jerk! So it made it very hard for me have any sympathy for him and for most of the movie I failed to connect with the plight of the main characters (‘cept for Michelle Williams, who I felt gave the finest performance). My big wuss-out emotional response only came when Heath visited Jake’s parents downonthefarm.

5 Heath and Jake (or their characters, if you like) shoulda just upped and moved to San Francisco or New York. They could of walked right into a happy gay commune-like environment like the one in Tales of the City. Problem solved! Scenery probably not as dramatic though. Not as many sheep, either.

So onto the next ‘mainstream treatment of queer themes’ movie, Transamerica. The LovelyWife and I are planning a trip to the south coast next weekend. I wager it might not be showing at the small-town cinema...