A second view of the film brought home to me the number of parallels, in all the texts that sustain it (A.P.'s story, the New Yorker revision, Matthews' watercolors in the first edition of Close Range, A.P.'s subsequent footnotes on the meaning of "twist," etc., M. and O.'s script, the actors' readings, Lee's choices of takes and his addition of details small and large, not to mention the rare and unhappy phenomenon of dual editors), between Ennis and Jack. Both have been subjected to sadomasochistic treatment from their fathers, involving in the one case a possible hate crime, in the other lifelong alienation, whether Ennis' experience of being forced to witness the corpse of the emasculated rancher or Jack's father's disgust in A.P. with Jack's unmanly circumcision (at whose behest? his mother's? if anyone is prompted to start a thread on this one, feel free). Both are in search not just for each other but also what is involved in loving fatherhood. This second viewing also made me more comfortable with sequence: at first, led to expect a two-part movie, the one involving patient exposition, the second a frantic interleaving of events, I now can appreciate a consistent technique of significant juxtaposition, which is, after all, a technique used to assist interpretation as old as Homer. And a stunning example is the way in which Ennis' rejection of Cassie is interleaved between his last, dramatic confrontation with Jack and the news of Jack's death. Ennis is already engaged in rethinking the relationship in positive terms; in a deeply moving way, the jolt he receives from Texas does not stop the process. The further stages of change, small as they may be, continue (and are beautifully registered by Ledger) until the final moment when he grazingly kisses Alma Jr.'s sweater (as a reader reminds me) rather like a priest quickly kissing his stole, conferring upon his love for both daugher and friend its sacramental due.
