#brodre

Tobey Maguire and Jake Gyllenhaal bear the eponymous roles in director Jim Sheridan’s Brothers, an adaptation of a 2004 Danish film of the same name (Brødre). Maguire’s Sam Cahill is a Marine captain on his way back to Afghanistan; Gyllenhaal's Tommy Cahill is recently released from prison. A family dinner—including Sam’s wife Grace (Natalie Portman), their two children Isabelle (Bailee Madison) and Maggie (Taylor Grace Geare), and Sam and Tommy’s father Hank (Sam Shepard) and step-mother Elsie (Mare Winningham)—brings everyone together and plants the seeds for what’s to come.

Unfortunately, the garden yields green tomatoes and artificial fruit. The first act crosscutting between Sam’s overseas struggle and Grace and Tommy’s domestic relationship undermines the depth and complexity of both situations. It’s difficult to settle in with either setting, and pacing issues result in a number of synthetic scenes. Furthermore, for much of the second act, it feels like David Benioff’s screenplay keeps dropping us into the wrong scene. It’s as if we’re late to the party, just missing the telling moments that would have revealed so much more about the characters. Instead, we witness uneventful or out of context sequences that play with little authenticity.

That said, the film’s soundtrack is easily its most glaring flaw. Not since the commercial imbroglio of the 1980s has a film employed so many obtrusive musical numbers. In particular, an unrecognizable piece of pop-rock playing over a day at the skating rink had me convinced I was watching a made-for-TV movie.

The acting performances are primarily strong. Both young actresses are quite effective. Isabelle and Maggie have identifiably unique personalities, and the older Bailee Madison handles a couple demanding scenes with astute credibility. Tobey Maguire is well-cast as an estranged husband and alienating father, and his performance is probably the most notable of the adult performers.

In spite of the first- and second-act issues, a surprisingly tense climax emerges. An out of sight animosity comes to a head, and it’s here that the film most strongly addresses the issue of mental illness and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in returning soldiers. A heart-pounding anxiety throbs through the scene, if only because of the sheer unpredictability of Sam’s mental state. Maguire deserves commendation for his portrayal, as does Benioff’s careful writing. Despite its earlier artificiality, Brothers culminates with frank authenticity.

It’s most fitting, then, that it ends with abrupt resolution. Sam and Grace meet outside a hospital for a moment of honesty, undercut with genuine uncertainty. If only it came in larger doses.