His Celluloid Footprint: Remembering Heath Ledger's Ennis Del Mar

Heath Ledger was a complex guy. When he found mainstream success, he could've gone in so many less noble directions. Instead, he stayed true to his craft and seemed to only tackle roles that challenged him (and us). When I heard of Ledger's death, I was, like the rest of the world, shocked. I was immediately drawn into the drama and mystery surrounding his final hours, yet at the end of the day, I found myself drawn not to the scandalous, but to the eternal. What is eternal is Ledger's body of work. All of his performances are commendable, but he will more than likely be remembered for one performance in particular. A performance so singular and exceptional, it is indicative of an impressive talent and fearless bravado. And what a legacy he has left us in the character of Ennis Del Mar.

When I first saw "Brokeback Mountain", I was blown away. In fact, I didn't speak for about 24 hours after seeing it. It was a lot to process and wrap my mind around. Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal were simply superb. Yet to label their performances "superb" is not really doing either of them justice. It would be more appropriate to say that they were utterly, brilliantly, tragically real. While Gyllenhaal's Jack Twist was terrific, it was Ledger's Ennis that made this film for me. It is a performance you really must decipher, not just watch. It is a challenging, and I daresay flawless, examination of repression, devotion, and manhood. A character that at first may come across as a grumbling, grouchy cowboy is really something so much more. But Ennis's secrets won't be handed to you: you have to look for them. Which is precisely what makes this portrayal so blissfully challenging.

I instantly saw in Ennis so many men I've known in my life. I come from a place as desolate and remote as Wyoming, a place where strict lines are drawn between right and wrong, good and bad, moral and immoral. Living under such restrictions, people tend to fall into themselves, expressing their humanity in a slump of the shoulders or a knot of the brow. Ennis Del Mar is one of these men. He has wholly collapsed into his own body. He avoids eye contact, his forehead is permanently creased, his spine perpetually curved. So elaborate and successful has his self-forgetting been that his voice is a mere croak and his gait is one of defiance and purpose. Purpose to what, we don't know -- and neither does Ennis. That's why his connection to Jack is so intense: we see a glimpse of purpose, of humanity, behind those heavily-veiled eyes and that firm-set mouth. And at the end of "Brokeback Mountain", when Ennis finally allows himself to not only feel, but to express something, it is as if our own floodgates have been, at long last, burst wonderfully open.

This one contribution to film is worth more than most actors' entire resumes. It is a brave man that can tackle such a role with a spirit of energetic investigation. When I remember Heath Ledger, I will not think about his sad end, but I will instead think of Ennis Del Mar. And how fortunate we are to have had an actor like Heath Ledger among us.