I'm 23, and I find it hard to write this review. I saw the film exactly one week ago today and not a moment has gone by when I don't ache. It finds me in the shower; it haunts me in bed; it has filled my mind and clings to my thoughts, and it won't let up. I try to lie to myself, to find some solace by saying that it's just a movie, but I know better. Jack and Ennis are alive, and they represent so many aching people, so many untold stories. There is no contrivance, no manufactured importance; there are no tricks. Brokeback Mountain tells, with painful honesty and frankness, the story of two men's lives and nothing more. Whether you are gay or straight, it doesn't hit close to home: it hits you. Brokeback Mountain is a place we all most desperately yearn to go. It's where we can be free. It feels funny to say that Brokeback Mountain is my favorite film of all time, because I think it almost an injustice to call it a film at all, or to critique its incredible technical sophistication. Somehow Brokeback Mountain transcends that. I could hear a thousand speeches celebrating diversity or read a hundred love stories and not be absolutely broken in just two hours as I was after this film. I've never felt waves of nausea come over me as I did sitting in that theater, my face contorted as I watched truth and honesty spill from the screen and onto moviegoers who had no idea what they were in for. I am usually the first to point out bias, so I know my words might be mistaken for favoritism or blind loyalty. They should not. This movie will change your existence. I find so many things in my life trivial now in the wake of this film---for me, watching it was truly like having a near-death experience. And am I better for it? Yes. Broken and undone, but better. For once in my life, I feel hope, and I've seen love.
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