Reviews "It's
melodrama of Tennessee Williamsian proportions as an often shirtless,
sweat-dripping gay cowboy enters the home of a secretly gay man and his
sexually unsatisfied wife. Mix and stand back! ~ "When Brokeback Mountain came out, I had no idea it would be such a popular hit. I was completely ignorant of the fact that it was nominated for the Oscars etc... I thought, something different, something to add some luster and edgyness to my mundane existance. It was a sweet movie, but not at all edgy. Cowboy Junction satisfied that need for luster and edgyness the way that Brokeback couldn't. Without being pornographic, the love scenes were real and courageous. Sure, it was low budget and you have to get around the fact that millions of dollars weren't spent to make the film look beautiful and grandiose. But the acting was remarkable and the plot was dark, twisted, and intense. Just when you think the two lovers will finally be together, a dark secret unfolds that ties the missing puzzles in the dream sequences and flashbacks together. This movie is the dark side of Brokeback. And the lead cowboy played by stunning James Bobby is a photogenic hotty. If you're not into low budget films, watch it just for him. He's a budding star if I ever saw one. The wife, played by Elyse Mirto gives off a hair raising performance that reflects many levels. Her character is vulnerable, sexy, hideous, and verging on maddness at one point. She tackled the challenges of playing such a character with the guile of a skilled artist. The Husband, played by Gregory Christian, who also wrote and produced the film has a rare presence that I cannot compare with any other actor. He gives you shivers with his dark stare and stillness. You know there are sinister secrets and repressed thoughts behind his eyes. Yet, he often appears light hearted and playful like your favorite gay neighbor. "You'll either love or hate the dialogue. It is full of wise cracks, put downs and low blows. There is a raciness to what is said despite the intense nature of the plot. Don't be afraid to laugh. There is wit to it. Gregory didn't seem to mind when I laughed, gasped and made remarks such as, "no she didn't!" "INTENSE is the best way to describe this film, "like you know something bad is about to happen any minute," as one audience member put it. An original and brave first feature for Gregory Christian. I think I see a budding David Lynch or Quentin Tarantino in our midst." - Rhea Morales is an independent film reviewer _____________________________ Production Notes"Cowboy Junction" was originally conceived as a short story entitled Me, Bobby McGee and the Gun. The simple yet sweet tale of two men who meet by chance and throw caution to the wind has always resonated for screenwriter Gregory Christian. "It is a fairy-tale of sorts," he has said. "Just think back to the last time you fell in love with a stranger." But this "boy meets boy" tale took on a completely different twist when he began adapting it as a short screenplay for entry into the film festival circuit. Suddenly, one of the boys was now a married man caught up in a world of homo-erotic fantasy and coveting his gardener (the Bobby McGee character now envisioned as a rugged cowboy). When the script was ready, the problem of finding two suitable leads arose. While working at the Kingsmen Shakespeare Festival, Mr. Christian decided, after much debate, to cast himself as the MAN and fellow actor James Bobby as the COWBOY. Bobby was more than up for the task of tackling such challenging and tongue-in-cheek material. The wheels were in motion and a summer 2004 shoot was set. Gregory calls the short a "one-day wonder." The entire piece was shot on a Saturday in August in less than 14 hours. When the final cut was ready, he began submitting it to numerous film festivals. In May 2005, the "Cowboy Junction" short premiered at the Miami Film Festival. It played on multiple screens at the Regal Theatre as part of their wildly popular "Boys' Shorts" program. The piece was a definite crowd pleaser and also garnered a cover on local Floridian magazine "411" as part of an article about the festival. The short was so well-received, Mr. Christian announced at the showings that the short would be pulled off the circuit and a feature would be going into production. The script was ready, the cast and crew were in place and production was set for five days following the conclusion of the festival. The character of the wife was now a prominent part of the storlyine and would be played by veteran actress Elyse Mirto (another Kingsmen Shakespeare alumni). The tale was now a story of her husband's sexual repression and gut-wrenching "coming out," amongst the most dire of circumstances. The entire movie was a wonder in it's own right: completed in nine days of total production time. _____________________________ Short Story Me, Bobby McGee & the Gun by Gregory Christian
I was driving down the PCH when I saw HIM. You know who I am talking about. THAT guy; the one who makes you feel all squishy inside. Anyway, I was speeding along when he pulled up next to me. That damn light near the Jack in the Box never changed. I tried not to look at him, for fear he would be some straight guy who would follow me and beat me up. That's when he whistled and shouted, "Hey gorgeous, you going my way?" He winked and, with a flounce of his head, he sped off. His beat-up blue El Camino was an ozone hazard, but I didn't care. I had just met Bobby McGee. My little red monster easily caught up to the cocky McGee. Suddenly, he began slowing down and pulled over to the side of the road. I followed suit, frightened to death. I swallowed the enormous gulp in my throat. As I watched him hop out of his car, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my brow. I immediately wiped it away. "Hot day, huh?" The sight of his face peering in my window made me jump. "Didn't mean to ruin your shorts," he cackled through tears. I got out of the car and stared him down. I wasn't laughing. We shared a tense moment until I started giggling. He smiled and came over to me. He was tall and tan. And built; I could tell through his tiny see-through
tee. He was wearing hiking boots, loose-fitting jeans and a Stetson. He
WAS the hottest man I had ever seen. And for the moment, it looked like
he was all mine. He backed me up against my car and stood over me with
his towering body. I looked up at him. He was smiling, which put me at
ease. A second passed. He put his hands over mine and leaned in. Fireworks
went off and I was half-blind when we finished locking lips. However, this was a new millenium; another place, another time. And, fortunately for me, Bobby didn't seem to have a disapproving mother lurking around. My eyes closed; I was lost in him. I felt him stop. "Let's go for a little ride," he said with a wink. "Okay," I responded, excited at the prospect. "Can we take your car?" he wondered. "Mine won't get over the hill." I said. "Sure." And we were off. As I took the PCH towards Santa Monica, he reached for something in his pocket. I thought, for sure, he was going to show off. "FUCK, WHAT IS THAT?" I screamed, as I swerved the car to side. I held on to the steering wheel and looked at him from the corner of my eye. "It's my gun. Do you like it?" He traced his hand over the smooth metal and smiled. I didn't like it but I could not tell him why. He would see me as weak... The alley was dark. I couldn't believe I had been stupid enough to go chasing after X in this part of town. The "White Party" was this weekend and I kept reminding myself that the "girls" were all expecting me to score. I'll just flip a bitch and get out of this dead end. Before I could, I heard a tap on my side window. Some freak was aiming a shiny, silver pistol at me. I didn't make it to Palm Springs that week. What I do remember is waking up in the hospital, much like Julia Roberts in "Steel Magolias," with my "family" hovering over my pasty face. I could not go there with Bobby. This was too much information for a newbie. He had to earn my trust and waving a gun at me was not the way. The metal shone in my eyes. I had pulled a stop and the ocean was to our left. My eyes met the waves and I wished I could run into them. This guy was a mad man. Or, so I thought. I felt lips brush against my neck and I shivered. Bobby whispered, softly, "I didn't mean to scare you." He slowly turned my face to meet his. That when I noticed he still had the gun pointed at me. But, his look was not menacing; it was almost sincere. He handed the .38 to me, as a gesture of good faith, trust, whatever; I was just glad I got it out of his hands. I took the keys out of the ignition and unlocked the glove compartment. I put his pistol away. The moment I had closed it shut, Bobby pounced on me. He reached over to my side and put the seat back. Like an animal, he began pawing at my clothes, tearing them off my trembling body... * I was sore. The work-out that Bobby had put me through had left me exhausted and out of breath. He was covered in sweat. His body looked like a well-oiled machine, each muscle in its proper place. He pulled his pants on and sat up. He reached back for something in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He offered me one. Now, normally, I would say, "No, thank you," and decline, but with Bobby, it was different. Something in me told me to go with it and take a puff. It was okay. As long as I was with Bobby, it would be alright. He was different from the guys I was used to dating; not that any of them were hags. It was just that Bobby didn't fit the cookie-cutter definition of "gay" like some of my old flings did. He was a bit more rough around the edges. He was looking down at his hands, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. "I was destined to meet you," he said. I rolled my eyes, thinking what a cheesy line that was. He paid no attention. "You believe in soulmates?" I nodded my head. "Well, mine found me," he contiued. "But, I was too stupid to notice. He would follow me around everywhere; this kid, this sweet kid. 'Can I get you this? Do you need anything?' Everytime, it was the same old thing. One day, I was cruising some guy in WeHo and he comes around. I had it. I told him to go get me a latte' from Starbucks. And that was it. He got hit by some guy running the red. I ran over to him, held his head up. And, you know what?" Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I shook my head. "He said, 'It's alright. You'll meet someone...someone you'll like.' Promise me something, huh?" "What?" I wondered, wiping my face. "Don't do anything for me. Let me take care of you. 'Cause you're that someone I like." We finished our smokes in silence and drove to my place. As we approached my little hut in the Hollywood Hills, I noticed Bobby's eyes had widened like a little child's. "Hey, bud, what's up?" I asked. He turned to me, tears forming. "What's wrong? Did I do something?" I wondered. "No," he replied, simply. "Then, why are you-?" "I'm cool, dude. Just chill." He wiped his eyes. We came up my driveway and he turned to me. "I feel like I've come home. Is that cheesy?" "No, that's sweet," I said, as the violins in "Psycho" played in my head. I parked the car and we got out. He looked over at me and smiled. "Do you approve?" I joked. He laughed a little, the sun catching the fine features of his face. Then, he took my hand with a firm grip and ran with me toward the front door. I was running down the street when I learned little Brandon Meyer had moved. Faster and faster, I was a streak of light and I had to get to his front door. I barely had time to brake when I reached it. I slammed into it, hard. I thought by sheer force of will that I could make the impossible, possible. That by running over to his house, he would be there. All I did was displace my shoulder. Bobby reminded me of myself, in that moment. As we fumbled for my keyes, he started tickling me. I began laughing uncontrollably and we both collapsed on my porch, covered in leaves. * We spent the rest of the afternoon playing "Truth or Dare." We had both regressed to a scary but innocent place. I found out that he was a Navy SEAL but got kicked out when was caught blowing another recruit. His folks were scary, Southern Baptists and have had nothing to do with him since he came out. As we lay in bed, my head placed snugly on his chest, I thought of how Eric used to hold me this way. For hours, we would lay like this and do nothing. Until he started confusing me with a punching bag. Everytime things went wrong at work, he would shove me or slap me or knock me to the floor. There was nothing I could do. The LAPD tends to laugh off any domestic disputes between fags. I promised myself, never again. Yet, here I was with a guy who would take me down. If only, I had a sign that this was right. "This feels so right," Bobby chimed in, reading my thoughts. He smiled and held me tight. Looking up, I knew. * The next morning, I awoke to an empty bed and no sign of Bobby. Immediately, I rushed to my dresser and checked for my wallet and jewelry. Nothing seemed to be out of place or missing. I looked in the mirror. I was a mess but I didn't care. He was just another trick. Would I ever learn? At least, he didn't rob me like tht slut Tony had. Fuck it, I though, and headed back to bed. That's when I noticed it. There was a single, red rose on the pillow where Bobby's head should have been. A driver's license and note were underneath. I picked up the flower and smelled it. I took the license in my hands and read: ROBERT McGEE. Too good to be true? Miss Joplin, I thank you. I was nervous as I perused the note. It simply stated: BE BACK SOON... This was IT! HE was the done! He was not little Brandon Meyer; he would not move away. He was not Eric; he would not hurt me. He WAS Bobby McGee and I loved him. And, in this moment of time, he was mine. All mine... -THE END-
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