Brokebacking Lack

Saturday night brought the long-awaited cold snap. I say long-awaited, since I had been sitting on a stupendously bulky parka for an entire week, while temperatures remained rather balmy. Problem was, I'd left the house, with an absurdly trusting cutesome in tow, in the usual

Clearly, Vini & Olii was now out of the question. It was hard enough to keep my face intact lurching across the Atlantic Yards, and we thus scuttled in to Cambodian Cuisine to be taken on a bewildering, deceptive, but occasionally fruitful, tour of their confusing menu. We ended up with chicken turned into a paste over greens, and very sour Tamarind and beef soup. Next time, swore Cutesome, whose demeanour was much more dented by the cuisine than the cold, we would stick to the noodles.

But why, Gringcorp, did you leave the house on such a potentially inclement night? Are there not many reasonably-priced ethnic restaurants on this miraculous Fifth Avenue of which you gloat. True, too true, dear reader, but we do not have is a solidly liberal cinema. So, for gay cowboy spectaculars, BAM is the best game in town.

Brokeback Mountain was much better than I had anticipated. Ang Lee's fondness for lingering on natural scenery has often seemed to me to compensate for many a badly-paced, unabsorbing movie. And Brokeback's sheep-laden first quarter would have been difficult to sit through without a vast sugar payload. But the story was convincing, and gripping, the characters engaging and believable. It was more stirring, and less silly, than Alexander.

Which is why, the juxtaposition of "gay" and "cowboy" aside, the ethos of the film, all trying to put commitment to family ahead of being gay and self-absorbed, should endear it to the more conservative. It is, after all, the protagonist that gives himself up so much to his urges that meets the most misfortune. Deserves being so far up on the critics' lists.

It also provided me with a more realistic depiction of the rodeo than that of the South Park episode where Cartman turns into a Vietnamese prostitute. "Send in the clowns!" uttered once every couple of minutes? I'm there.

Turbonegro - "Prince Of The Rodeo"
Purhase "Apocalypse Dudes" here. Go on, it won't "turn you gay"

Kill Henry Sugar - "Rodeo"
Get "Sell This Place" here. It's rather evocative (Of what, you pretentious w*nker?)