Over 30 years ago, John Singleton’s directorial debut Boyz n the Hood successfully examined the plight of urban survival. The spiritual successor to slice of life films from the late 70’s and early 80’s such as Killer of Sheep or Bless Their Little Hearts, Singleton’s debut ushered in a wave of “urban” films that ranged from thought provoking character pieces to exploitative thug pulp. The DNA of Boyz n the Hood can be found throughout the modern zeitgeist of urban cinema across the globe. Introspective tales ranging from “The Chi” to London’s “Top Boy” are now streamed into our homes. Clement Virgo’s Canadian import Brother is next to carry the torch. The film tells the story of two brothers, sons of Caribbean immigrants growing up in the famed Scarborough district of Toronto, Ontario. Adapted from the award-winning novel of the same name, Brother delves into the lives of Francis (Aaron Pierre) and Michael (Lamar Johnson) as they face questions of masculinity, identity and family in the early ‘90s.
The film starts with an ominous moment of bonding between the two brothers that foreshadows the trajectory of the tale while underlying the relationship between them. Francis, the older brother, exudes confidence and has the street smarts to survive while the introverted and socially awkward younger brother, Michael, quietly dotes on his big brother hoping to emulate his stature. Michael watches as Francis navigates the tough streets of Scarborough, and we watch Michael learn to keep from succumbing to the pressures of those same streets without Francis’ presence and protection.
Virgo’s lens captures tense moments of sporadic violence and close calls with dark muted imagery, director of photography Guy Godfree utilizing cinematography as an added conduit to the brooding quietness of the film. Pierre’s portrayal of Francis simmers. Pierre approaches a fully fleshed-out character with delicate nuances that make Francis’ nurturing moments just as believable as his vulnerable and menacing ones. Johnsons’ portrayal of younger brother Michael does a lot of heavy lifting. The sporadic shifts in the timeline make it almost impossible to recognize the emotional effects of the impending tragedy on Michael. This gives the impression that there was always rage and grief brimming beneath Michael’s surface. Johnson handles this assignment well despite the disconnect with the narrative arc, and his portrayal keeps your interest while anticipating the impending reveal foreshadowed in the film’s prologue.
Brother benefits from strong, believable performances from its leads. Yet the script’s situations deliver interesting tidbits lacking an overall story, and that is unfortunate. There are a lot of topics to delve into, and none of them get the screen time they deserve. It may be the curse of adapting a more in-depth novel into a stand-alone film. The film’s excursions into the topics of mental health, sexuality and abject hopelessness are worthy of individual cinematic journeys. When crammed into a two-hour narrative, we are left with so many loose threads that it makes more sense to shrug off the experiences presented than try to connect them and empathize. That absence of empathy is where Brother fails to live up to its cinematic predecessor. Without the emotional resonance, it becomes just another hood story.
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