Sprained Neck Theater

All hell broke loose last night at the Chelsea Cinemas on 23rd Street, when word got out that the 6:30 pm showing of the hot man-on-man western "Brokeback Mountain" was sold out. "What!?" shouted one small gay from the back of the line. "No seats!" another hulkier homo hissed alliteratively. Cut to a man in a feather-dress running up to the camera lens, fingers clawing into his face "What are we gonna do?!?!?!"

These people, ladies and gentlemen, would comprise the audience of the 7:15 pm showing of "Brokeback Mountain" last night.


People in line: Impatient, but ravishing.

Now, if you're in the mood for a gay cowboy movie, I can't really think of a better option for you. However, if you're in the mood to sit in a theater with 300-or-so perma-rections for 2:30 hours (all springing to life from those effeminate Fandango ads, with their brown-paper-fag puppets), then might I suggest catching a showing of the film at the movie theater in Chelsea, which, according to Zagat's, is New York's "Really Really Gay" Neighborhood.

How gay? Let's just say when one of the Fab Five from "Queer Eye" is standing behind you in line (Jai Rodriguez), you've pretty much hit tight bottom.

Of course, my friend Becca and I lurved every second of it, as we are like the Pied Pipers of Gayboys, playing our novelty dildo flutes down 8th Avenue from brunchery to brunchery, lactating Bumble & Bumble hair products, being surrounded by some of the city's hottest men, only to realize that they'd never have any interest in us, no matter how buff our pecs were to become. This was our Mecca, except we were the only ones who didn't have kneepads... for praying... or explaining confusing metaphors.


Still too feminine I guess.

As far as the movie goes, if you like postcards, and hard, skull-crushing make-outs, it's a must see. And while people keep lauding Heather Ledger, let's be honest: How hard is it to 1. express no emotion; 2. speak with your mouth pursed into a little anus (Jake's, obvs.); 3. mumble practically everything; 4. go fishing with your male lover? The answer: according to the Hollywood Foreign Press, hard enough to earn you a nomination for a bogus, made-up award.


Although, judging from that perfectly lithe pose alone, I'd give him the Golden Globe anyway.

The best part of the movie came at the very end, after the credits rolled, when we headed to the ladies room, and lo and behold, for the first time in cinematic, nay, theater going history, while the line to the men's room was at least 50 gays long, the women's room was completely empty. I nearly forgot to place 48,000 toilet paper squares on the seat, I was so jazzed.

"Brokeback Mountain", overall, is a moving film and worth a look. And now I officially feel like I've ended an eighth grade history test. ("The Revolutionary War, overall, was revolutionary and a war.")


My letter to Santa this year. I really hope I get that ironing board!! Although a "bath tob toy" would also be pretty great.