Little Brother

Little Brother follows Mark (Frankie Wilson), a loving husband to his wife, Sarah (Catie Ridewood), as they struggle to conceive a child. Alongside their own struggles, Mark is reunited with his brother Lee (Théodore Sylvain), who has just been released from prison and is trying to reconnect with Mark and find intent in his life. The piece is a raw depiction of brotherhood with stunning direction from writer/director Jack Sambrook.

While the viewer is provided with a slight context for why Lee was in prison, the chemistry between Frankie Wilson and Théodore Sylvain is incredibly magnetic, allowing the audience to connect with their estranged relationship. Both central performances are undoubtedly well nuanced, and the dramatic beats completely land thanks to their screen presence, accompanied by an evocative musical score by Simon Pitt. The musical score not only elevates the material, but it also never feels intrusive or overbearing in the dialogue-heavy sequences, making the experience more visceral. Rowan Bahçeli Holford’s cinematography is captivating, as most of the runtime is condensed to Mark and Lee in a car; the use of close-ups is mostly effective, capturing their complex relationship and Mark’s attempt to see beyond Lee’s flaws. The use of visual storytelling is another astounding formal decision that pays off beautifully within its haunting and emotionally striking conclusion.

Despite its tight runtime and a lack of exposition, Jack Sambrook’s screenplay does an incredible job of establishing the central three characters and their struggles to a suitable degree. The dialogue is captivating and never loses sight of its themes, balancing the comedic and dramatic beats astoundingly. The film flows remarkably well, never overstaying its welcome and conveying its message and thematic elements eloquently in its limited duration. However, the scene transitions feel episodic as they cut jarringly to black for a brief moment before cutting to the next scene. An extended runtime could’ve potentially enhanced the characterisation of Mark and Lee more profoundly; however, the lack of expository dialogue is refreshing and a unique way to tell this story. The performances across the board are phenomenal, particularly Catie Ridewood’s portrayal of Sarah, as she conveys the inner turmoil and emotional support for Mark as they both struggle to conceive a child.

One of the only minor gripes with the piece is its lack of staying power after the credits; despite its meditative conclusion, there is rarely anything to latch onto outside of the performances and central theme of forgiveness. That being said, the filmmakers accomplished a rare feat of maintaining an engaging narrative that uses subtle formal decisions to enrapture the viewer and suitably conclude without feeling rushed or anticlimactic. While the filmmakers could’ve implemented more context to Mark and Lee’s relationship before his prison sentence, both performances from Frankie Wilson and Théodore Sylvain elevate the material, allowing the audience to sympathise with their misunderstanding of one another's differences.

Little Brother is a masterful depiction of two brothers learning to grapple with forgiveness and self-purpose. Despite flaws in the episodic nature of the editing, the piece is anchored by three incredible performances from Frankie Wilson, Théodore Sylvain and Catie Ridewood, and is a powerful piece of work that concludes wonderfully.