In “Brother,” a new coming of age story from “The Wire” director Clement Virgo, now playing in theatres, weaves three timelines together to form a vivid portrait of memory, regret and grief.
Based on the novel of the same name by David Chariandy, and adapted by Virgo, “Brother” is the story of Francis (Aaron Pierre) and younger sibling Michael (Lamar Johnson), the sons of Jamaican immigrants, growing up in Scarborough, Ontario. The athletic Francis, who harbors dreams of becoming a music producer, exudes confidence. He is Michael’s surrogate father and, despite quitting school mid-term, is his role model and guardian angel.
But even with Francis on his side, Michael is overwhelmed by police overreach and the gang violence gripping the neighborhood. Random shootings are a regular event and once, a stray bullet even pierces the wall of a nearby apartment, killing an innocent child.
On their way to adulthood, the brothers are bonded by family, but choose different paths.
The parallel stories of “Brother,” told on a broken timeline, are skillfully handled by Virgo. He
interlaces the various timeframes to create a vivid portrait of the lives of these two young men and the pressures that formed and informed their personalities.
As adults the two lead characters are brought to vivid life by British actor Aaron Pierre, who reveals real vulnerability as the formidable Francis, and Lamar Johnson as younger brother Michael, who struggles to live in the long shadow cast by his older brother.
It is the story of their struggle to live up to expectations, but more importantly, it is about the toll of the struggle. Disappointment hangs over Francis’s character, and as he becomes more and more unpredictable, Pierre skillfully displays the ways that his risk taking is the symptom of dashed dreams and it is heartbreaking.
Virgo’s supple, elegant filmmaking reinforces the film’s central themes by creating a richly textured world for the characters to inhabit. The streets that represent a looming danger to Michael are beautifully shot, at once suburban stark and yet poetic. It is that juxtaposition that gives “Brother” its layered, complex thematic feel.
“Brother” features fine performances, a killer soundtrack that ranges from Nina Simone singing Jaques Brel to reggae to hip hop, and combines them to tell an emotionally arresting story that is both thoughtful and tangible.
Adapted from a 2017 novel by Catherine Hernandez, which captured the author’s experiences of running a home daycare, “Scarborough,” now playing in theatres, is a raw yet inspirational look at life in the diverse, low-income community in east Toronto that gives the movie its name.
The film, directed by Shasha Nakhai and Rich Williamson, focusses on the marginalized kids at a neighborhood literacy center like Bing (Liam Diaz), a bright, chipper Filipino boy whose single mom works at a nail salon. His bestie, Sylvie (Mekiya Fox), looks out for him, but must also cope with unstable housing and a troubled brother. A third student, Laura (Anna Claire Beitel), struggles as she learns to read while addiction and racism hobbles her home life.
The centre is a safe space, a place for these kids to grow and learn. Outside the walls of the literacy centre the film explores themes of addiction, autism, child abuse and systemic negligence.
Shot in a documentary style, this coming-of-age story has a natural feel. Part of it comes from the use of first-time actors in the lead roles.
The stories and characters that fuel “Scarborough” are complex and while the handling of some of the big moments feels unwieldly by times, the film makes up for those lapses with an ambitious focus that includes many powerful moments.
A scene in which a mother is told her son is autistic and may never be able to live on his own amplifies the helplessness that can be felt by marginalized people as they try an navigate the health care system. It’s a potent sequence, nicely directed to share the character’s overwhelming sense of vulnerability. In moments like this, the movie shines.
It all sounds depressing, like an exercise in misery, but the movie is infused with hope. Hope for the kids, hope for the future. And, (NO SPOILERS HERE) Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” may never be used as effectively in any other movie as it is here.
Much of that uplift comes from social worker Ms. Hina (Aliya Kanani), a warm figure of encouragement who genuinely feels for the children she looks after, often at the expense of her own well-being. Her empathetic character gives the film its beating heart.
