I saw
Brokeback Mountain at the historic Wilma Theatre,
a short walk from my home in downtown Missoula, Mont.
Built in 1921 by producers of a Wild West show meant
to bring "entertainment and culture" to
Montana, it is a place where Will Rogers once performed his
cowboy satire. Between the old sound system and bad
ears from my time in the Marine Corps, I had
difficulty hearing what sparse dialogue there was. But
the landscape was spectacular, and I could pretty much guess
what Jack and Ennis were mumbling after having read
Annie Proulx's story twice.
The first time I
read it, I was still closeted and married--fighting,
denying, and suppressing my attraction to men--and I
was leading a secret, shameful double life. The story
hit deep and hard, and I felt doomed to a life of
deceit. I read it again last year, when hype about the
upcoming movie first hit the press. By then I was out,
best friends with my former wife of 14 years, and
living more honestly to myself. My second reading of
Brokeback Mountain struck a radically different
note, of course, making me grateful I'd found
the courage to change my own story to a happier
ending.
What surprised
and moved me most about the movie was the elk hunt. Jack
and Ennis lose their supplies when a black bear (played by a
sadly tame, fat Hollywood bear) spooks their horses.
Hungry and out of food, they sneak up on a bull elk
and shoot it. We see the bull stumble and begin to
drop, followed instantly by a scene where Jack and Ennis are
sitting around a fire, cheerfully gorging on wild elk
while strips of meat dry a makeshift rack behind them.
It might be the best elk-hunting scene since
Jeremiah Johnson or The Last of the Mohicans.
As was the case
with my long struggle to come to terms with my
homosexuality, I also struggle with my identity as a hunter.
I'm sort of an antihunter who hunts. The
majority of my fellow hunters leave me saddened.
Seemingly caught up in an endless quest to kill the biggest
possible bull or buck with the least possible effort, they
tear up the land with off-road vehicles, spend
fortunes on gadgets meant to replace woodcraft,
routinely take shots at distances that show no respect for
either themselves or their quarry, and curse the
"damn wolves" they claim are eating all
"their" elk and deer. I love wild
meat--bloody and rare--yet I almost see
myself as an atavistic vegetarian, eating native sedges,
pine grass, and fescues wild elk have converted to protein.
In much of the West, hunting is still a sustainable
way to live. Through countless hours of hiking and
stalking, crawling and slipping through remote, rugged
wild country in pursuit of wild elk--seeing and
smelling, hearing and feeling not just elk but wolves
and grizzlies, pine martens and wolverines, mountain
lions and bull trout--I have come to deeply cherish
wildlife and the wild places they roam. I have spent most of
my life working and volunteering for nonprofits that
strive to protect what little wilderness remains. I
can't recount how many times hunting has
restored me through these primeval connections between
predator and prey, between humans and wild things,
between heart and soul that unfortunately too few
people still experience. Instead, we are in denial and
delude ourselves, pretending we are somehow separate
and distinct from nature.
I spend a lot of
time in elk country, alone in remote places, hunting,
fishing, backpacking, snowshoeing and backcountry skiing. I
am happiest and most myself--truest to my own
nature--in wild places among wild animals. There
is always the rare chance a mountain lion or grizzly might
judge me a decent feast, but they certainly don't
seem to care whom I sleep with. Jack and Ennis falling
in love in the wilds, killing and eating wild
elk--I didn't need to hear dialogue to relate
to that! The movie's tagline sums it up:
"Love is a force of nature."
I occasionally
surf The Bowsite, a chat room where fellow bow-hunters
often post rants against liberals, antihunters, wolves,
grizzlies, and tree huggers. For fun, on the Big Game
Forum, I posted a new thread: "Brokeback
Mountain: Best Elk-Hunting Movie?" Since folks on
this site often and justly complain of poor Hollywood
depictions of hunting, I mentioned that here was a
good positive portrayal. The response didn't
surprise me. People with screen names like Terminator, Sewer
Rat, Bearman, and ElkSlayer wrote things like
"No queers could really hunt elk";
"Elk are too majestic an animal to be killed by
f****ts"; "Imagine a gay elk camp: guys
would worry that camouflage makes them look fat."
The Bible thumpers chimed in, quoting all the antigay gospel
they could muster; one claiming that "no good,
God-fearing Wyoming cowboy would engage in homosexual
behavior." I finally asked if any of them had
actually seen the movie. Most said they would never watch a
movie about "two f****ts." Since I had
actually seen it, one guy said he "sure did
wonder" about me. Another guy called the movie
"Hollywood propaganda to promote a liberal
homosexual lifestyle."
If that's
the case, someone in Hollywood screwed up. The movie, like
the book, is a heartbreaking depiction of being gay.
It goes to the heart of the fear and prejudice that
lead to so many sad, desperate, unfulfilling lives.
Brokeback may change some minds, but I hold no
illusions that my fellow bow-hunters or most rural
Westerners will ever accept me into their
fold--a gay, wolf-loving, tree-hugging Force
Reconnaissance marine who kills elk. Then again, who
knows? Perhaps when the DVD is released, a few might
sneak it home, secretly watch when no one is around,
and face their own internal turmoil.
In the meantime,
fortunately, there still exist remote, rugged, wild
places where a man like me can roam, true to the forces of
nature, and sit around a fire eating wild elk.