The Problem with the Brokeback Comparison

Earlier this autumn I had the opportunity of watching Oliver Hermanus’ new film, The History of Sound (2025), when it was screened at a local film festival. Before the opening credits could roll, the audience was given a brief introduction to the film in which our host wished to stress that this was “the Brokeback Mountain of our times”. Given that it transpired to be quite different from what this comment had led me to believe, I couldn’t help but wonder: why do Queer films still receive the Brokeback comparison? 

On one level it can be seen to align with the current ‘big’ studio reliance upon remakes and sequels, from the Jurassic World to the Avatar franchise. The popularity of shows such as these has proven that people know what they like and they like what they know. With an industry in crisis, this low-risk recycling strategy seems to work (well, at least most of the time). 

Though it is not wholly possible in Queer cinema, on all levels, to remake previous narratives given the profound lack of representation in older films and TV shows, there is still value to be had in this market. If they can’t remake, they can compare what they know to be good. 

So, from a marketing perspective, pushing such a comparison between a new film and this classic makes commercial sense. Having premiered at the 2005 Venice International Film Festival winning the prestigious Golden Lion, Brokeback Mountain went on to be a sweeping box office success, racking in $178 million worldwide despite the considerably smaller $14 million budget. The comparison essentially functions as a call for engagement by critics and those audiences already invested in this media. When it works, it almost guarantees getting people through the doors. 

Paul Mescal, the nation’s favourite ‘emotionally aware yet still muscled up antidote to the closed-off hyper-masculine male’, plays the love-struck Lionel at the centre of The History of Sound. When speaking at the Cannes premiere of the film last year, he confessed that he found the comparison between the two films “lazy and frustrating” on the grounds that The History of Sound has vastly different thematic interests to that of Ang Lee’s 2005 cult classic. Acknowledging these differences, for Mescal, is key to recognising that the films cannot be compared on the mere basis of the protagonists’ sexuality. That would be like saying Notting Hill (1999) is the same as Fifty Shades of Grey (2015). 

Mescal is also able to see how this treatment feeds into a trend of critics continuing to reach for Brokeback as their default yardstick with which to measure or beat anything with a hint of Queerness that has appeared on our screens since. Take, for example, Jessica Kiang’s review for the BBC of Francis Lee’s God’s Own Country (2017) which she titled: “Britain’s answer to Brokeback Mountain”. Though her piece works to address why the film is not a British imitation of Brokeback, she nonetheless insists that a dialogue be had between the two movies.

Understanding this, I want to suggest that the comparison still exists for reasons other than those Mescal has considered when discussing the issue. 

Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal’s characters have been compared to those played by the likes of Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer (Call Me By Your Name, 2017), Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal (All of Us Stranger’s, 2023), Drew Starkey and Daniel Craig (Queer, 2024). Whilst these characters may not strictly adhere to conventional heteronormative masculine ideals, they all have one thing in common: they are white cis-gender men who engage in homosexual relationships. 

The comparison, then, can be made and given value when it is used to illuminate the general lack of diversity within the thin sliver of Queer films that have successfully fought for recognition in the mainstream. More broadly, it is symptomatic of ongoing issues of representation within the industry. In their most recent Studio Responsibility Index report released in May of this year, GLAAD found that of the 23.6% of the 250 films in their study that featured LGBTQ+ characters in some capacity, only 36% of these were people of colour. 

The aforementioned films are complacent in this given the casting pattern observed as they do not represent the broader intersection of Queer identities with race, gender, disability, and religion that exist and have very real effects on people. If only ever viewed in isolation of other Queer media that does represent this intersection, a narrow, singular presentation of Queer experience is maintained. It implies that the universal standard is that of the white, able-bodied, cis-gender, homosexual male. 

This is, frustratingly, the very thing that the Brokeback comparison works to do. It plays a part in determining what narratives get a platform if it manifests as the transference of viewership from one film over to another. Maybe Paul Mescal is so resistant to the comparison because he hopes The History of Sound will be a commercial and critical success on its own merit; much like the great films of 21st century Queer cinema that rupture rigid cultural norms in their presentation of diverse Queer experiences, such as such as Pariah (2011), Moonlight (2016), and Unicorns (2023).

Still, the bottom line is, even if the reviews for The History of Sound are not as great as he may have hoped them to be, I can almost guarantee it will still sell partly on account of the comparison, and partly on account of his and Josh O’Connor’s features (in both senses of the word).

Rather than emerging from any identifiable audience group, the Brokeback comparison persists most visibly within critical and promotional discourse, where it operates as a shorthand for seemingly legitimising Queer narratives within a still-narrow cinematic canon. What we must allow it to do then is to continue asking how far Queer representation has progressed in mainstream cinema since the early 2000s, and what we can do to further it? 

Yes, Brokeback Mountain undeniably made leaps and bounds for this representation, but it is important to acknowledge that it cast a light upon only one specific area of Queer experience that as a whole is much broader, dynamic, and ever-changing. 

A singular film cannot be expected to cover this range, but critical phenomena like the Brokeback comparison do not work to benefit Queer-narrative focused films made outside of the big studios GLAAD’s report analysed. It contributes to their struggle to gain a wider audience that would enable them to be distributed and seen beyond the arthouse walls.

In an environment where empathy is flagging and LGBTQ+ rights are ever under threat, we now more than ever need to find a way to platform these films. These experiences are critical to contesting a narrow cultural standard. 

‘The History of Sound’ is set for release in UK cinemas from January 23rd, 2026.