My brother – review

Despite some flashes of interest, Raph Shirley is underwhelmed.



My brother entered the scene in late 1989 and has been wowing family-occasion-goers ever since. Unfortunately, his performance has become rather stolid of late. Now he’s a sort of lumpen drudging knock off of better brothers such as David Attenborough and Ethan Cohen.

In a characteristic scene my brother, Ben, is reduced to limping about the kitchen moaning about unemployment and a lack of family support. A modern updating of the prodigal son it might be, but p-lease I haven’t seen melodrama this hammy since breakfast with the Aflecks.

One of the major problems are his frequent, often rambling soliloquies. Any editor worth their salt would surely take a large pair of scissors to about half of what he says. I’m still trying to forget Ben’s final speech of 2010; a rather ostentatious display of Brotherhood with a capital B, making outrageous claims about my disloyalty. Lets just say, Ben, you ain’t no Shakespeare, get back to the physical clowning.

Ben is clearly capable of amusing us, we still talk about him falling over in the paddling pool in 97, but he’s going to have to figure out what it was that we once liked, nay really liked. This brother needs to put more effort into the script and a little less into “not being such a prick all the time”. Sorry parents, but a few cuts would have gone a long way.

Lots of love,

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