Brothers of the Head

Rating NR Formats DVD Genre drama Starring Harry Treadaway, Luke Treadaway, Jonathan Pryce, Tania Emery, Ken Russell Directed by Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe Publisher IFC Films External Links Official IFC FIlms Website

Bearing more than a passing resemblance to Hedwig And The Angry Inch and Velvet Goldmine, Brothers Of The Head delivers infectious Brit-punk tunes and sullen, sweaty boys with eyeliner. The premise is intriguing--greedy promoter grooms naive Siamese twin brothers into cult rock gods-—but this modern "freak show" parable lacks the substance to resonate beyond its initial glitz and glam.

Executed like a docudrama and studded with random experimental nightmare sequences, Brothers tells the tale of striking teen twins Tom and Barry Howe (Harry and Luke Treadaway), joined (ironically not at the head) but at the chest. Hand-picked for their shock value as opposed to their skill, they struggle through voice and guitar lessons until their latent talent and newfound creativity emerge. Music becomes their portal of catharsis and escape, and soon their band The Bang Bang is selling out dozens of underground shows.

Bursting with primal rage and spastic sensuality, the brothers writhe and scream their way into the hearts of screaming teen groupies and grown women alike. Tom, the shyer, guitar-wielding twin, cultivates a doomed romance with enamored reporter Laura while unstable singing extrovert Barry chops his hair into a mohawk, throws tantrums, and falls predictably into rock star substance abuse. In one telling scene, sensitive Tom pours his heart into the haunting love song "My Friend," which Barry jealously distorts into the testosterone-charged "My Friend You Cunt" onstage. Unfortunately, if not for the stellar soundtrack, the brothers read as little more than caricatures, and it is hard to identify with their actions, emotions, and confusing, childishly repetitive banter. In spite of or because of this, they succeed as sex symbols. Much like David Cronenberg's eyebrow-raising Crash, Brothers sexualizes their emblematic abnormality to fetishistic excess, a theme that shines most clearly during a photo shoot where the shirtless, androgynous boys soulfully kiss each other and masked women probe the patch of skin connecting their two bodies.

Spastically sexy and petulantly punk, the Treadaways own the stage like twin Ian Curtises with a dash of Iggy Pop and Suede thrown in for good measure. It's just unfortunate that the attention paid to music and sex appeal could not have trickled down to the story itself. Events unfold chronologically and vaguely, enacted by the brothers or "retold" as bland interviews with old band members and family. The form alternates from being boring and predictable too self-conscious and pretentiously experimental. Visually and verbally, it's often hard to tell what's going on, and neither the brothers' stream of consciousness mumbling nor random shots of the manic lyrics they scribble on the attic walls (though doubtlessly indicative of their mental states) do not help matters. Aside from its haunting, artsy moments, Brothers offers no lasting resonance. Ultimately, the conflict is just too obvious and the film's weak rockumentary framework cannot sustain 90 minutes.