Brother, 2023.
Written and Directed by Clement Virgo.
Starring Lamar Johnson, Aaron Pierre, Kiana Madeira, Marsha Stephanie Blake, Lovell Adams-Gray, Maurice Dean Wint, Taveeta Szymanowicz, Dwain Murphy, Anthony Grant, Khalid Karim, Alsseny Camara, Sebastian Nigel Singh, Jacob Williams, Delia Lisette Chambers, Orville Cummings, Mazin Elsadig, Franco Lo Presti, and Isaiah Peck.
SYNOPSIS:
Sons of Caribbean immigrants, Francis and Michael face questions of masculinity, identity and family amid the pulsing beat of Toronto’s early hip-hop scene.
This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strike. Without the labor of the writers and actors currently on strike, Brother wouldn’t exist.
Opening in the middle of the story and the lives of these titular brothers, writer/director Clement Virgo’s Brother (adapting the novel of the same name by David Chariandy) utilizes a non-chronological structure, methodically moving between the past, present, and future for a more effective gut-punch finale, with multiple threads of characterization more powerfully coming together. That introduction plants the idea that something tragic occurred while teenage brothers Francis (Aaron Pierre) and younger sibling Michael (Lamar Johnson) were boldly climbing an electrical tower, with the older brother also handing out metaphorical life lessons.
There are also glimpses of the boys as children, showing how their inseparable bond began and how they came to fear a world (in this case, it is Scarborough, filled with drugs and gang violence) that they can’t wait to escape in the present, even if they have been backed and supported by their hard-working Jamaican immigrant mother Ruth (Marsha Stephanie Blake, excelling at playing both a fierce, no-nonsense mother and a broken one considering the shifting timelines). Their father hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. However, that doesn’t stop the boys from trying to track him down in one of the film’s many somewhat bloated subplots trying to accomplish a bit too much in its efforts to deepen these characters (there are moments that, while dramatically engaging, also feel superfluous from how long they can go on.)
The brothers are always tight-knit, even with different personalities. In high school, Francis could be mistaken for an adult and commands respect, presumably coming from intimidation alongside the likeability and charm he carries for himself inside his social circle. He uses that pull to protect the much smaller and frequently bullied brother. Michael is shy, whereas Francis increasingly has outbursts and feels the walls closing in that he might never be destined to escape Scarborough.
Francis and his immense music knowledge have lofty ambitions of becoming the next great successful rap music producer, namedropping Dr. Dre, which also provides a firmer grasp on what exactly these events take place. This results in him making questionable choices (such as dropping out of school) and becoming more temperamental from the pressure he puts on himself to make his mother proud by creating something of his life.
Meanwhile, Michael strikes up something serious with Jamaican-Portuguese classmate Aisha (Kiana Madeira), bonding over their status as descendants of immigrants and the natural gravitational pull that brings them together. However, the future timeline shows that whatever relationship is being built didn’t exactly pan out, but that they are there for one another, offering support through their individual experiences of grieving. Meeting up after an extended period brings complicated memories up to the surface as they figure out how to honor their loved ones, handle current problems, and the best way to move forward.
From reading this, figuring out what happened shouldn’t be difficult. And although Brother continuously builds to that moment while jumping back and forth through time, without explicitly showing what or how this went down, there’s always the lingering suspicion that police brutality is involved, especially since the thoughtful cinematography from Guy Godfree often refuses to clearly present them in any given shor (the camera is either cutting their heads off or obstructing their visibility.) The police hang over this narrative like a symbolic manifestation of Death, even when Ruth comforts Francis and Michael as young boys by telling them they will catch the criminals on the news.
With that in mind, the opening sequence of Brother feels like an intelligent distraction away from the familiar territory that this narrative covers. Thankfully, the metaphor at play can be taken far, so this technique doesn’t necessarily feel cheap. However, the nonlinear structure of Brother is about iffy deception tactics as much as it is about a poetic construction of exploring memory and pain (elevated by a stirring score from Todor Kobakov.) Despite sometimes looking off in appearance due to the time shifts (Michael seems too young to be an adult, and Francis looks too old to be a teenager), the ensemble is riveting throughout, overcoming those shortcomings. This is familiar and timely territory told from a unique approach across multiple characters and places in time, amplifying that emotional gravitas.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
