Brothers of the Head

An incredible debut by Harry and Luke Treadaway, who steal the show in a pretty distinguished cast. I can't imagine better casting - the directors can have scarcely believed their luck.

Excellent music, well-performed and never false or embarrassing. If Chryssie Hynde voted for this movie as a judge at some film festival (Edinburgh?) then it shows the music works well.

Brilliant cinematography by a master of the art.

Some of the interviews with doctors (and the girl journalist, who is otherwise pretty good) felt a bit contrived; the American doc film-maker too doesn't quite ring true. Ken Russell, on the other hand, is completely believable.

It's not the greatest film ever, but it's very well worth seeing, and not just for that remarkable debut by the brothers.

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.

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

This film lingered in the memory for days after I saw it. It was a portrait, not only of the scabbier side of the music business, but of the intimacy, love and hate that exists between siblings of all descriptions. A lot of it rang true; the cinematic values were lovingly collaged within an overall 'feel' that was at times stunningly beautiful. The performances, particularly of the real-life identical twin brothers, Luke and Harry Treadaway, were lyrical, loving and intense. There was a sense that these two talented actors-who are also rock musicians in their own right, no musical stand-ins or overdubbing here-were giving the performances of a lifetime. After all, how many conjoined-twin-rock-star movies are there likely to be? Having said that, the fictional Howe brothers made a stunning metaphor for the freakishness that is almost a natural part of getting on a stage and screaming into a microphone; it really looked as though it could work, especially in this post-Slipknot world.

The plot was, at times, obscure; there was perhaps a bit too much cleverness in the multiple, and terribly post-modern, overlapping of supposedly-documentary narratives. I found that there was so much going on within the structure that I hardly noticed the climax of the story.

In all, to my surprise, I would describe this as a beautiful film, but with enough rock'n'roll grit to keep me riveted. We need more films like this.