By Sarah Kurchak

Dir: Clement Virgo. Canada, 2022. Clement Virgo’s long-awaited return to feature filmmaking begins with its titular brother as a teenager standing at the base of a group of transmission towers. With electricity humming at an almost palpable volume in the background, Francis (Aaron Pierre) carefully outlines all of the dangers that his younger brother will face as they start climbing and urges him to follow his every move. Michael (Lamar Johnson) takes in everything he says, looking a little pensive, but with an unwavering belief in his big brother that immediately becomes obvious to the audience.

When the film shifts back in time to their childhood, we see how emblematic this moment was of their lives and their bond. In 1990s Scarborough, their mother (Marsha Stephanie Blake) does her best to protect her sons while working night shifts and overtime to provide for all of them. She tells them to stay inside, and keep the TV off when she’s not there, but it’s not enough to keep the outside world away. The dangers they face and Black children in Canada is as overpowering through CityTV news reports of local crimes and on the other side of their door as the electricity’s hum, and a nervous, wide-eyed Michael looks to his brother for comfort and guidance. Francis, who is barely older and dealing with his own fears, hurts, and dreams, does his best to be the father figure he desperately craves for both of them.

When the film shifts forward to Michael’s adulthood, we see Francis’s absence reverberate through his loved ones’ lives even more powerfully. His death has left their mother almost catatonic in grief and Michael must try to figure out how to take care of her and himself when the one person he could always turn to is no longer there. When an old friend returns to their neighbourhood to reconnect, though, both Michael and his mother are lovingly pushed to open up their home and their lives to something other than their unbearable grief.

Virgo’s adaptation of David Chariandy’s award-winning novel is near flawless in its execution. Its performances are universally stunning. Even its details are pitch perfect, from the 1980s Tupperware, to the Master T footage, to the iconic bus shelters, to the bored white music execs who helped to make Toronto the Screwface Capital long before it became The 6ix.

But even in a film as universally exceptional as Brothers, Virgo’s direction and screenplay stand out. The way he weaves timelines together, with a structure that makes The Sweet Hereafter look linear and straightforward by comparison, is nothing short of masterful. And it’s even more emotionally resonant. This is what grief feels like, with every treasured moment, every high and low with your loved one seemingly happening and once or all over again. Virgo and his crew have captured it every bit as heartbreakingly and triumphantly as they have the characters who are living through it and their surroundings. 5/5 stars.