Brothers of the Head

One of the most realistic mockumentaries to ever hit the silver screen, Brothers of the Head boasts its high production value with a big head. This film pours its soul into the authenticity of the circa 1970's ambiance and climate, and never looks back, or forward at that. This film about a pair of conjoined twins that become a British rock group, is simply too difficult to absorb. The twins played by real-life brothers Harry and Luke Treadaway, could be the one redeeming quality of the film, besides the amazing authenticity, which keeps us guessing if this is a real documentary or not. Unfortunately the music in this film lends to the authenticity of Brit-rock at the time, and is just obnoxious and at no point catchy. Along with the annoyingly loud and incomprehensible music is the unnecessary dream sequences meshed with flashbacks of the two young twins. Keith Fulton and Louis Pepe, directors of the film, simply do not re-create the magic they had in Lost in La Mancha. Although this is a very noble and heartfelt attempt at showing the exploitation of the entertainment industry, it simply is too bona fide for its own good.

When I viewed the catalog for the Cleveland International Film Festival, Brothers of the Head was the first film I decided I wanted to see. It had all the potential of being a great rock movie with an interesting twist. The film itself was not completely what I had expected. The storyline was interesting and unusual. The music was humorous. The acting was great. The cinematography was excellent, especially during dream sequences that appear throughout the story. The one problem with this film, which has the potential to destroy the entire experience for the viewer, is its faux-documentary style. The writing was obviously intended to give a third person narration of the boys' life so that it is more dark and tragic. In this way, it is absolutely effective, especially at the conclusion of the film. However, it slows the beginning and keeps the viewer from being pulled in at the start. Many viewers in Cleveland found that this kept them from enjoying the rest of the film. It is sad that such an unusual film may not meet its full potential because of not-quite-there writing.

I suppose that a film about co-joined twins who become punk rock stars in the mid-70's has to have something going for it and, indeed, this partially successful film did keep me gripped for most of the journey. As with most rock films, melodrama is the order of the day and this is no exception as the boys face physical abuse, drugs and rock star blow-out in the grand tradition of the likes of Hazel O'Connor in that other punk drama Breaking Glass.

There is much to like in this film including the stylised direction which veers away from the mockumentary format into more creative territory from time to time. There are some excellent ideas at play here; including scenes from an 'unfinished' Ken Russell film.

The problem is that this film is screaming out to be great little cult film but it never quite succeeds; perhaps its the lack of humour and the ease with which it lapses into cliché. Mostly though I think the tired 'mockumentary' format is what ultimately works against this film. Interesting and worthwhile but ultimately not the success it should and could have been.

Some people seem confused as to whether they are supposed to take the film seriously or not. Perhaps such people are going into it thinking in terms of the standard mockumentary format, satirical in an obvious form of comedy. That is, taking an idea to the extreme version of itself to point out the irony on the subject matter. This concept is certainly taken to the extreme as any good satire, but it does not rely on humor to get this point across.

The approach used in this film is fresh and unique, exploring human exploitation without actually exploiting anyone. I was forced to look inside myself and find my own values and beliefs in this unconventional story and I commend the filmmakers for giving me the opportunity to do so. The messages are more subtle and require more participation than most satirical portrayals, so perhaps this is something people are not ready to do with this subject matter. If you think you might like a challenge, set yourself outside your comfort zone and see this movie. Decide for yourself, don't depend on the unfair opinions of those unprepared for the experience for what it is, not what they think it should be.

Dogmatically realistic mockumentary observing the bizarre life and times of Tom and Barry Howe, conjoined twins who take a ride to punk rock stardom in mid 70's England, is quite the mixed bag. On the one hand you have a completely unique character study(s), aided by unfettered realism, even tragically punctuated by the two amazing twin leads (twins themselves). The moments actually trying to make an emotional statement feel quite profound, the boys we're simply amazing in their required roles. However, these moments become few and far between around the mindfully conceived, though flawed majority of this overextended what-should-have been-a-short. Despite the introduction of many characters and several different perspectives given coverage throughout, this still cannot shake the vibe of being a one-trick pony. Although short for a feature, it clearly does not have enough juice to make it through to the finish line unscathed. With the (period appropriate) documentary-style filming abound and all of it's horrible aesthetic ramifications, the interesting approach does succeed at becoming an item of half-truths in the improvised grandeur and supreme realism of it's ways. Unfortunately the majority of on screen time pervading this realism does not translate all that well to film, and only when the brother's inner spaces are illuminated in the film's keenest moments does the movie hint at the true appeal that will be lost on the majority of viewers unable to connect with the pretty inaccessible subplots and overall style. If not for the little, but riveting emotional substance to be mined from this movie, mainly I can see no other reason for the indulgence in this soon-to-be-cult-but-likely-for-no-one-else oddity, except for old school, Sex Pistolesqe, punk rock fans who will likely froth at the mouth through a good half of the footage dedicated to the band's assault of their songs, as all other viewers feel assaulted in their ears. The nasty homage of a soundtrack that fuels this fictional band does have some fittingly manic style, a dash of intelligence, and attitude to spare, but becomes immediate second(if not third!) fiddle to the sole saving grace throughout the interesting experiment : How real, Howe's were