Final Rating: 5/5
Brother opens with one of the most electrifying scenes ever put to film. Sure the scene literally takes place at a transmission tower, but that’s not what is so electric about it. The camera slowly pulls back from an empty field in a residential neighbourhood, entering a closed off fence where you see two young men looking up the tower. The humming of the electricity surging through the wires slowly grows louder, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. The older of the boys is imposing looking, several inches taller and significantly more muscular. He asks if the younger one is ready to climb the tower, except it isn’t really a question. It’s a taunt. It’s a test of bravery, strength and manhood. He talks about how if you touch the wrong part of the tower, one slip up, you’ll be instantly fried to death. He asks the younger boy if that’s how he wants to die. The young man meekly says no and that he’s ready. So they begin their ascent and we begin the journey to understand what led these boys here and if they will survive the perilous climb just to get a fantastic view.
Clement Virgo is back. He never really left, but he hasn’t directed a feature film since 2007’s Poor Boy’s Game. Since then he created and directed the mini-series The Book of Negroes, worked on episodes of Empire, Greenleaf and the recently released Netflix show Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story. But his voice as the pre-eminent director of black Canadian stories was missed. Brother is based on the David Chariandy novel from 2017 of the same name. It follows the story of a young man, Michael, from three points in his life in a non-linear fashion.
We get a very young Michael and his older brother Francis in the early 80’s living in Rouge Valley, a community in the east end of Scarborough. The boys are raised by their single mother, Ruth, who is a domestic worker and an immigrant from Jamaica, their father is out of the picture. The boys often are left alone all night while their mother is at work, they watch TV and are bombarded with stories of “scary black men” committing crimes on the sensationalist news, which routinely vilified black communities claiming it was plagued by violence. The heart of the story takes place in 1991, as Michael is now in high school and Francis is considering dropping out mere months before he graduates to pursue a career in music. Micheal is stuck between idolizing his brother who increasingly is growing distant from their mother and seeing how much she depends on her children for strength and support. Michael is constantly in Francis’ shadow. He’s popular with the ladies, while not gang affiliated, they still respect him due to his massive stature and leave him and his baby brother alone. Lastly the film shifts to 2001, where Michael still lives at home, dealing with his mother who seems to be suffering from some sort of alzhiemers as they both grieve Francis’ death from some years earlier. Michael is stuck in the past, he picks up the same part time job that Francis had and refuses to get additional help for his mother.
Rarely does a film come around that completely puts you on notice. Every single frame is a perfectly constructed tableau. Every shot is perfectly layered, with actors stationed in the foreground and background that highlight the dynamics of the scene. The sound design and scoring is impeccable. We get needle drops from Nina Simone right next to Eric B and Rakim. Sound design that features a steady hum of electricity, buzzing cicadas and police sirens that are never far away. The film is methodical and slowly paced as every moment of pain, heartbreak and violence is fully realized and felt by the audience. You can’t blink or turn away, because it will still be on screen when you look back.
It is also hard to understate the unbelievably powerful performances in the film. Lamar Johnson plays the teenaged and adult Michael and we see the world through his eyes. There are so few scenes that aren’t from his perspective, so we only know what goes in the film when he knows it. He’s quiet and reserved and can’t hide his emotions. He is often left feeling scared and confused and he doesn’t need to speak to let us know where his head is at. His mother Ruth is played by Marsha Stephanie Blake who is able to drift from tender to protective to hurt all in one scene and when she is Ruth in the later years, her distantness is haunting. But the standout performance goes to Aaron Pierre who plays Francis. From the moment he appears in the opening scene and all throughout, he is utterly mesmerizing. Listening to Virgo after the film discuss that Pierre was able to bring a masculine and femeine energy to the role, something akin to Montgomery Clift, which was crucial to the success he achieves. He has an aura that instantly gravitates you to him with a level of threat that you never know if he will explode or melt you.
The film will likely draw comparisons to the Best Picture winner Moonlight in the sense that they are both about a young black man from a disadvantaged neighbourhood and told in three parts of his life. There is a queer mentor and a single mother who despite loving her children may not always be the best parental figure. Both films are beautifully shot, with Brother possibly being the nicest looking movie in who knows how long. Virgo has crafted a masterpiece that plays with genres and expectations. There is an air of mystery to the film as we learn early on that Francis dies but the movie doesn’t reveal how. There are numerous instances that make you think this is his end, but it keeps you guessing until the very end. It’s a shame that the movie is a low budget Canadian one, because it should be the front runner for every awards show over the next few months. With any justice, it will be the most celebrated movie at next year’s Canadian Screen Awards. It is without a doubt, one of the finest films ever made.
