Bros Review: Billy Eichner’s Sanitized Triumph

“Write your own damn story.” So advises the recently divorced straight younger brother of the gay Aaron (Luke Macfarlane) toward the climax of Nicholas Stoller’s Bros. That dictum is perhaps what led star and co-writer Billy Eichner to conceive of this film in the first place: a Hollywood romantic comedy that for once puts a messy gay relationship front and center instead of relegating queer characters to secondary roles. But if Bros suggests anything, it’s that Eichner’s grand ambition for his first major starring role in a Hollywood film was to do little more than offer a gay spin on You’ve Got Mail (which his character is seen watching at one point) and its ’90s-era rom-com ilk.

That’s not necessarily a negative in and of itself, especially when, in the film’s earliest stretches, Eichner offers such a hilariously detailed depiction of contemporary queer life. Sharp observations and rapid-fire quips abound on subjects ranging from the world of gay dating and the commodification of queer culture to mainstream cinema’s timid initial steps at LGBTQ representation (Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain gets singled out for being hailed as “progressive” even though neither of its headlining stars were gay). The first half hour or so of Bros is also its most stylistically freewheeling, feeling almost as much a glorified platform for Eichner’s anxiety-ridden stand-up comedy, complete with occasional Family Guy-style cutaway gags, as a setup for the film’s eventual romantic complications.

Those complications begin when, at a party for a new online dating app (called Zellweger and for mutual fans of movie stars), Bobby Leiber (Eichner) locks eyes with Aaron, both of whom consider themselves “emotionally unavailable” for dating. It’s something of a classic “opposites attract” scenario: Bobby is the host of a successful podcast about gay life and part of the board for a new museum about LGBTQ+ history, while Aaron wears a suit and tie every day helping people plan for funerals. And yet, an undeniable electricity flows between the perpetually outspoken Bobby and the more conventionally macho Aaron—or, at least, enough of one that forces both characters to consider breaking out of their respective shells.

What initially gives this relationship a certain distinction is the degree to which it speaks to anxieties that appear to still exist in the gay community, and in spite of all the progress that’s been made in recent decades. Bobby feels like a refreshingly honest depiction of a certain type: the self-righteous social justice warrior so wrapped up in a grander vision of a more inclusive society that he isn’t above browbeating others who express anything close to resistance toward his perspective. That inevitably causes conflicts between Bobby and Aaron, who’s still uncomfortable enough with his sexuality that he feels a need to tone things down with his more conservative family and implores Bobby to do the same when he introduces him to them.

Which makes it disappointing that Bros ultimately becomes so pat in its perspectives on modern romance and social justice. For one, the film goes all-out (complete with a country-style original musical number written and performed by Eichner himself) in confirming that only a traditional monogamous relationship can truly fulfill both of its main characters. Even Bobby’s self-righteousness is affirmed when Aaron’s mother (Amanda Bearse), a teacher whom Bobby castigates for not being daring enough to teach LGBTQ+ history to elementary school students, ultimately sees the wisdom of his ways. It’s ironic that Eichner’s character relays an anecdote about how a Hollywood studio executive rejects one of his ideas for a film for being “too gay,” because, if anything, Bros ends up feeling like it could have been much queerer.