MIFF Review: Brian and Charles
There’s nothing like a film at eleven in the morning. It’s a pleasant walk to the Kino, and in the serene quiet of the cinema, there are no surprises…
The first surprise was seeing a baby in front of me. The second, a nervous volunteer informed the crowd that this session would be a little different. Mum and I had unwittingly – thanks to the minuscule fine print on MIFF’s website – walked into a Crybaby session. For those not in the know, at a Crybaby session certain adjustments are made, specifically to accommodate weary cinephile parents. Mum tells me this is a common practice in cinemas. It has even been around since I myself was a screaming little gremlin. It’s awesome that parents can enjoy the magic of the theatre without judgement. However, I’m not a parent. I am, in fact, a man child. As you can imagine, keeping the lights up, allowing toddlers to run around, and having the volume lowered didn’t exactly sound enticing. Nevertheless, as the curtains rose, I stuck it out. And if I hadn’t, I would have missed out on one of the most wonderful and understated films at MIFF this year.
Based on the 2017 short of the same name, Brian and Charles (2022) follows the titular Brian Gittins. This optimistic nobody in rural Wales tinkers away at failed inventions in his garage. Until one fateful day, when his loneliness gets the better of him, he cobbles together a robot. With the help of a mysterious thunderstorm, he soon comes face to face with his greatest creation and friend. His name: Charles Petrescu.
Writers David Earl and Chris Hayward, who play Brian and Charles respectively, sparked life into this wholesome and subtly hilarious modern twist on Frankenstein. Meanwhile, director Jim Archer’s mockumentary visual style allowed for restrained performances that, when held on long enough, gave me time to appreciate the heart beating underneath each of these fully formed characters.
When Brian shakes hands with Charles at the end of the first act, it hits harder thanks to seeing the inventor struggle to keep his sadness in check. Not only has one of his inventions worked for the first time, but Charles, despite his simple robotic gesture, has offered Brian his first real connection with someone.
However, unlike Her (2013), this isn’t a romance. So, how does the film separate itself as a buddy comedy? Earl and Hayward have lightened the mood simply by changing the dynamics of Dr. Frankenstein and his creation. A disgusted scientist becomes a doting, albeit overprotective, mother; while a curious creature turned rebellious monster becomes a curious child turned rebellious teenager. This creates a brilliant chemistry between the pair and allows for some of the funniest and most honest gags about parenting I’ve ever seen.
But what would a Frankenstein adaption be without any angry villagers? In a playful twist, most of the townsfolk are friendly towards Brian. Even love interest Hazel is amazed by Charles’ existence. The local bully, Eddie, and his equally unpleasant family therefore adopt the role of a hateful, micro mob. Eddie’s violence thankfully doesn’t come from his physical force, which at most, amounts to shoves. Instead, it comes from the menacing aura Jamie Michelle provides to the character (whose nods to the camera are a nice touch by Archer). His emasculation of Brian is not only uncomfortable to watch, but gives us all the more reason to root for he and Charles in the end.
While I can wax poetic about the films’ writing for pages at a time, not everything lived up to the same standard. The film staggered slightly in the first act. There were moments where certain repeated gags or actions felt redundant. For instance, did Brian really need to try and turn Charles on twice to show he wasn’t working? Yes, it did show that he needed to check all the parts. But then again, Charles could have just sparked slightly or shown some sign of powering on before malfunctioning. Because if he didn’t turn on immediately, Brian, based on what we know about him and his track record with inventions, should have just given up and gone to work on something else. The music choices were also underwhelming. Just because “Happy Together” by the Turtles is the obvious choice, doesn’t mean you should use it. Especially when it’s been used in every rom-com and buddy movie since the dawn of 1967.
Despite those few gripes, Earl, Hayward and Archer stitch together an emotional sci-fi comedy roaring with laughter. On a constrained budget, this simple film about a simple inventor and his simple robot was more charming and heartfelt than any melodramatic, by the numbers blockbuster of recent years. Believe me when I say there wasn’t a dry eye in the house; and I’m not talking about the babies.
Thanks to the Melbourne University Film Society for publishing.
