Pride and the Men of the Moors

Over the last 3 weeks, I have watched and posted my takeaway on several films that I've felt are consequential to Pride Month. By highlighting the power of the shared bonds that have allowed LGBTQ+ people to find a sense of community and self-acceptance despite all odds, these movies remind us of the necessity of living authentically, and never allowing your spirit to be suffocated by the ills of conformity. 

In Francis Lee's film debut, God's Own Country, protagonist Johnny Saxby's chief source of torment is himself. The young adult son of a hardscrabble sheep farmer on the beautifully desolate moors of West Yorkshire, Johnny finds himself taking on more and more responsibility after a stroke leaves his father temporarily disabled. The problem is that Johnny is not particularly industrious. He is also something of a shit. Emotionally closed off, this young lout is the product of an environment that consists solely of his stern and demanding pa, Martin; aloof, disapproving grandmother, Deidre; and a nearby village that offers nothing but drink and dead-ends to its residents. Other than the occasional, dispassionate jackhammering of a sexually available local in cattle trailers and bathroom stalls, Johnny's entire existence is an endless cycle of wash, rinse, repeat: thankless days toiling (not too strenuously) away on the family farm, ignoring the litany of criticisms doled out by his elders, drinking himself into oblivion at night, and then starting all over again. It's really no wonder Johnny's the way he is: no one in his world ever smiles or provides any sense of warmth. Since his mother decamped some years earlier, he's never known any kindness or affection (assuming he received either from her in the first place). So, while the farm's stone fences crumble and the sheep suffer from their owner's laxity, Johnny begins most of his mornings with his head in the toilet bowl, then proceeds haphazardly from there. This is his life. He's almost as bitter and numb to happiness as the rest of the household. 

Fed up with his son's ne'er-do-well disposition and negligence towards his work, Martin hires a temporary itinerant farm laborer from Romania to help keep the struggling farm afloat until he recovers. When a sullen Johnny arrives in the village to pick up the new arrival, he's a little disconcerted to find a darkly handsome man not much older than himself. Filled with resentment and a sense of superiority, Johnny refers to Gheorghe as "Gip" (for gypsy). Poor Gheorghe is installed in a chilly, rundown mobile "shack" parked behind the main house, where--being a "gypsy"--he is viewed with suspicion and condescension by his employers. As work progresses the following morning, Johnny expects Gheorghe to follow his orders and endure his racist slurs. For little more than a day, Gheorghe remains mostly silent and subservient to the bullying Johnny, but as the hired man quickly demonstrates his exceptionally nurturing manner with the animals and his working knowledge of property maintenance, it's clear to Johnny that he is on unequal footing with his conscientious employee. 

This changes the power dynamics between the pair, and Gheorghe takes Johnny to task the next time he calls him "Gip". Gheorghe turns out to be no pussycat and delivers a quick takedown of the shocked and speechless Johnny (who is not much for conversation to begin with). This stag fight leads to chilly(weatherwise)/hot(otherwise), muddy sex outside a falling-down barn near the stone fence they're meant to be repairing. From here the film focuses on the growing relationship between the two men, as Johnny lets down the wall he's constructed between himself and his emotions. 

Right when things seem to be going right--Johnny is smiling, happy and actually kissing and making love with someone for the first time--Martin has a second stroke from which he will never recuperate. Johnny must now take full responsibility for the farm's management. By this time, Johnny and Gheorghe have already had some minor disputes where Johnny screwed up and made amends, but the full weight of his father's irreversible condition, and his new role as custodian of the farm tips Johnny over the edge. This leads Johnny not to another trivial screw up but a major FUCKUP and Gheorghe takes his leave. 

Devoting himself to the farm and the care of his paralyzed father, Johnny soon realizes that he can't live without Gheorghe. Barely verbal at the best of times, Johnny is unable to express his feelings for Gheorghe once he tracks him down. However, unlike many gay romances (think Brokeback Mountain, which I do like, by the way), there is no sad or tragic ending for the male lovers in God's Own Country. Johnny's growth as a fully functional adult capable of giving and taking love, empowers him to come out to his family and, ultimately, move Gheorghe into his bed, rather than that pitiful, damp trailer (which is--pointedly--towed away at the end of the film).  

The two leads in God's Own Country--Josh O'Connor (Johnny) and Alec Secareanu (Gheorghe)--are so convincing and genuinely moving that it's hard to imagine them as separate from the roles they're performing onscreen: they play off each other so well that you completely believe in the complicated emotions spurring their burgeoning romance. The highly praised performances boosted the careers of both actors. (Currently, O'Connor is starring in Steven Spielberg's recently released Disclosure Day, while Secareanu also continues to act in film and television.) Director Francis Lee, who originally started out as an actor, became disillusioned with his career and went to work in a salvage yard while writing and directing short films. Though he never attended film school, Lee conceived his first full-length feature--God's Own Country--with a great deal of assurance, with the film garnering universal critical acclaim and nominated for numerous awards. Lee's screenplay is loosely based on his own life growing up in the remote, sometimes harsh, countryside of West Yorkshire. Like the other movies we've discussed this month, God's Own Country is, in its unique way, a beautiful, inspiring testament to the profound impact of love and connection. 

**As much as I enjoy this film--and I am usually not a great fan of romance movies--I am compelled to mention that you'll need to turn on the subtitles in order to penetrate the thick Yorkshire dialect spoken by Johnny and his family. By contrast, Gheorghe speaks with just a trace of a Romanian accent and is perfectly comprehensible.**