Brian and Charles Review: Eternal Quirk of the Stretched-Thin Kind

The original Brian and Charles short focused entirely on its titular characters, and it’s clear that was for the best.

Brian and Charles
Photo: Focus Features

Set in a small, picturesque Welsh village, director Jim Archer’s amiable comedy Brian and Charles follows the exploits of a lonesome, socially awkward, yet endearing middle-aged white man, familiar from so many indie dramedies. Brian’s (David Earl) main quirk is his way of passing time by creating idiosyncratic inventions that are mostly useless or dysfunctional. But when, to his surprise, the AI-driven robot that he builds out of assorted spare parts comes to life, the man is supplied with a much-needed confidence boost by his equally graceless new acquaintance, who instantly seems like a screenwriter’s contrivance for the way that he highlights Brian’s desperate need for companionship.

Chris Hayward inhabits the cheeky, cabbage-loving Charles with a delightful blend of naïve curiosity and adolescent impetuousness, suggesting at once a best friend and spoiled only child. Even in the opening act, the film’s mix of quirk and sentimentality feels a bit trite—more offbeat than existentially unsettling—but the depiction of Brian and Charles’s relationship avoids treacle primarily through the amiably odd nature of their interactions. The sheer peculiarity of Charles’s Frankenstein-like body—which consists of a mannequin head with more than a passing resemblance to Jim Broadbent, a washing machine for a torso, and human legs—brings an amusing uncanny valley vibe to all of the inquisitive robot’s movements.

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Regrettably, though, whatever is fresh, and at times even moving, early on quickly sours as the narrative demands of expanding the 2017 short that Brian and Charles was based on force the filmmakers to widen the scope beyond Brian’s homestead. The inevitable love interest, Hazel (Louis Brealey), remains little more than a feminine carbon copy of Brian, with her sole purpose appearing to be to gravitate toward him no matter how little interest he visibly shows in her. Meanwhile, the film’s lone conflict comes in the form of a one-note bruiser named Eddie (Jamie Michie), who, despite being in his 40s, runs around town bullying everyone with the help of his two teenage daughters, Katrina (Lowri Izzard) and Suki (Mari Izzard).

The rationale for just about everything in the film is either minimal or nonexistent, from why Hazel enters Brian’s orbit, to what drives Eddie to go so far as to kidnap Charles, to why the townspeople have put up with Eddie’s excessively nihilistic behavior for so long. And because the filmmakers never bother to flesh out either Hazel or Eddie, they feel like hollow approximations of people created merely to serve as impetuses for Brian to change his life.

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Where Brian’s bond with Charles is singular, particularly given the latter’s unusual understanding of the world via his artificial intelligence, Brian’s interactions with Hazel and Eddie are all painfully generic. The original short focused entirely on its titular characters, and it’s clear that was for the best. For as sweet and charming as this iteration of Brian and Charles is at times, everything outside of these two characters’ interactions functions like pure narrative filler that detracts from all that was appealing about the story in the first place.

Score: 
 Cast: David Earl, Chris Hayward, Louise Brealey, Jamie Michie, Nina Sosanya, Lynn Hunter, Lowri Izzard, Mari Izzard  Director: Jim Archer  Screenwriter: David Earl, Chris Hayward  Distributor: Focus Features  Running Time: 90 min  Rating: PG  Year: 2022  Buy: Video

Derek Smith

Derek Smith's writing has appeared in Tiny Mix Tapes, Apollo Guide, and Cinematic Reflections.

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