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no way do I wish to encourage film makers, or film
goers, to indulge in any more
"mockumentaries". "Spinal Tap"
is an inanely brilliant comedy, but beyond that,
all the fake interviews where people act serious
but say stupid shit and the humor is dryer than
the deserts of the Sudan is just too Mad TV on a
bad night for me. And,
does the world at large need more movies dealing
with the ultra-rare genetic phenomenon that is
conjoined twins? The Farrelly Brothers'
"Stuck On You" made me chuckle in spite
of my preconceived cynicism, but aren't Siamese
twins kind of freakish and truly demonstrative of
humanity's impotence in the face of Mother Nature
and her sociopathic caprices?
It would seem that directors
Louis Pepe and Keith Fulton felt that two wrongs
would make a right, as their film "Brothers
of the Head" is a mockumentary about
a set of conjoined twins. The directors'
incorrigibility in the face of simple logic proved
to be a partial success, as the film, though not
without the foibles its thematic chromosomes
passed on, comes off with an inimitable sense of
melancholy, humor and essence of life; its acmes,
its hopelessness and its nadirs. Tony Grisoni
wrote the screenplay, and while those may seem
like five words I used to fill up space with a
superficially important fact, Mr. Grisoni also
wrote the screenplay to one of my favorite films,
"Fear and Loathing in
Las Vegas
".
"Brothers of the
Head" tells the fake true story of the
inseparable brothers Tom and Barry Howe (Harry and
Luke Treadaway) and their rise to ephemeral fame
in the British punk scene of the late 70's. Expect
the core plot to run its course in exactly the
manner you would expect it to. A rich svengali
prick named Zak Bedderwick comes up with the
cockamamie idea to make a pop group called The
Bang Bang out of a set of conjoined twins living
on an island called L'estrange Head…
Yes, you read the name of the
brothers' place of residence correctly. Grisoni
follows the mockumentary paradigm for comedy
strictly and with cathartic, intellectualized
rhythms and references. For instance (s): the
mansion rented for the brothers to party and
rehearse in is called Humbledon, their songs have
titles like "My Friend (you c**t) and
"Two Way Romeo", and they have lyrics
like, "We don't give a shit/ we're sitting in
a car" and the metaphysical,
"Two-to-one-to-one-to-three / are you you or
are you me?" Basically, if you are the kind
of person who doesn't lol at the end credits of
"Spinal Tap" when the guitarist tells
Rob Reiner that if he weren't a rock star he would
be a salesman in a haberdashery, then this would
not appeal to you.
…Back to the drive-by plot
summery of "Brothers of the Head".
The brothers are of course
introduced to groupies, booze and line sniffing by
their trashy producer Bryan Dick (Paul Day) and
kept in line
by their asshole manager Sean Harris (Nick
Sidney). Tempers flare, Sex Pistols-esque punk
rock is played loudly, and a bohemian female
journalist attempts to split up the band – and
the brothers' stomachs – in a move of
ultra-literal Yoko Ono irony.
Some aspects of the film are
predictable and played out, but "Brothers of
the Head" achieves an album-like quality in
that it has the effect of creating and sustaining
a mood. Jokes and dirty talk are appropriately
integrated into believably forlorn commentary,
unnerving performances and conflicts, and
disquieting cuts to embryonic and ambiguously
apocalyptic images overdubbed with dark sounding
low talk and whispers. And ingenious use of a
macabre color palette in post production on some
scenes brings a welcome Oliver Stone feel into
play as well.
The Treadaway brothers are
intense, vulnerable, immature and endearing as
they eerily acquiesce to the fatalism inherent in
their characters' life circumstances. The
supporting cast does an adequate job and the
combination of subdued writing - with sparse
effervescence bubbling up from an ocean of bleak
sadness - and frenetic directorial energy allows
the film to surmount its initial handicaps.
"Brothers of the
Head" is an exception to fundamental logic.
It convinced this reviewer that maybe it is a
little guileless to dismiss a piece of art just
because of its premise and to say that at the
least it will prompt you to ruminate on a lot of
issues, one being the unavoidable incestuous
nature of a conjoined twin's sexual relationships
and the legality of such a thing. If two people
connected by their stomachs with a nondescript
chuck of extra skin make you squeamish, then I'm
sorry you read this whole review.
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