There are two kinds of people, those who break people down into two varieties, and those who don't. But that has nothing to do with Brokeback Mountain.
First CNN tells me Brokeback Mountain is a "gay cowboy movie". I saw two shepherds in actual reviews and clips. Who should I believe?
I heard the guys who see it will switch to the love which dare not speak its name. Which is fine, if ordinary guys paid money to see movies about shepherds in love.
There are some rules if you want to sell movies to the vestigial American male.
One, special effects, you can't spend too much. I want to see a half billion in unnecessary technology clogging every square inch of the screen. This is a simple transaction. I give you money. You impress me with huge explosions and whole fictitious landscapes, which eventually explode.
Fast things, turbos, chases, airplanes, parachutes, zoom... zoom? Again, you can't have too much. Sheep and horses qualify if you can get them to fight. Listening to Paul Oakenfold while Jason Bourne speeds away in a Mini: totally unnecessary. Also Priceless. James Bond had a shootout between gangs of divers.
Two words: Bond Girls
Ursula Andress wearing a bikini which Halle Berry reprised? Without doubt the performance of a lifetime. I almost thought they'd never make it off that burning jet. A giant solar laser chasing the super fast rocket snow car? Hey, could happen to someone like Valerie Plame.
More of that, but less emotionally-significant moments of pathos and longing. Mmmmm. Halle Berry. But not Catwoman. Strange. I have no problem with cats until their sheer numbers become oppressive.
Conflict? Epic. Huge herds of war sheep in armor about to engage in the final battle against dark cat forces? Entertainment. Two guys in hats and sideburns making the beast with one back? TV movie. Gay is cable network, not large screen. We like Jessica Simpson in Daisy Dukes, not the Dukes doing the dirty deed. Again, this is a business transaction. Critics might not like Ultimate Fighting V: Ripping Out Spleens, or whatever, but that's the nature of art.
Geeky technical Oscars go to my celluloid heroes, or Halle Berry.