In the office, yesterday.

Mike: So, are we seeing Brokeback Mountain tomorrow night?

JP: Yes, definitely. Er, you do know it’s quite sad, don’t you?

Mike: Is it? Well, that’s fine. I have plenty of moral resilience.

JP: Huh?

Mike: Oh, did I say moral? I meant emotional. Emotional resilience.

JP: Now I understand.

Mike: I got my emotions and my morals confused. Not for the first time, either.

JP: Always dangerous when that happens.

Mike: Tell me about it…

Update: How strange. I left the cinema last night dry of eye, distinctly underwhelmed, and cursing my over-heightened expectations; and yet today, I can’t shake the damned film out of my head. Meanwhile, two people I know have already been to see it twice, one of them claiming that it’s the best film he has ever seen.

I shall file this one under Slow Burner. Perhaps because it has taken a little while for my perspective to pull back from the particular (a gay “issue” flick) to the universal (a meditation upon missed opportunities) – but also because of the lingering quality of the individual performances: the looks, the pauses, the things left unsaid.

I’d do a longer review, but Tom Coates and Lubin Odana have already done such excellent jobs that there scarcely seems to be any point. Go read them instead. They nail it.

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