Gay men in the United States now live in a post-Brokeback world, one where it's possible to share a same-sex love in some place other than a remote wilderness. We can move out of the darkness and the woods, and live more-or-less open lives. At least in the cities and the “blue” states, we don't have to hide our love away, and we usually don't have to fear the movie's terrible consequences.

So what have we done with our new freedom? Have we let ourselves love fully? Or, like Ennis, have we found ways to avoid love, excuses as to why it isn't practical, or why the time still isn't right?

This is what Brokeback Mountain implicitly asks of gay movie-goers: to love now, passionately, regardless of the cost. Seize the day, because one day, possibly before
you know it, it will be too late.

Despite the much ballyhooed sex scene, and the protestations of the right-wingers, Brokeback Mountain is not a movie about sex, but one about love.

That, of course, is what being gay is ultimately about too.

Gay men, being men, have never had a hard time finding sex. Sex, after all, is easy, maybe the most natural thing in the world -- just like it was easy and natural in the woods underneath Brokeback Mountain.

The love part, on the other hand, is a lot tougher, especially for us emotionally stunted men.

Like Jack and Ennis, I was taught that being gay was something shameful, something unspeakable, something to be punished. In the world of my Catholic suburban childhood,
I was told that gay love did not even really exist.

In the movie, Brokeback Mountain represents a place of the purest love, of total passion. To climb such a mountain is difficult for anyone, but for a gay man in 1963 Wyoming , it was virtually impossible. To dare the mountain meant paying a terrible price –- maybe even breaking one's self.

Page 1 / 2 - Next