Writer-director Sheridan O’Donnell pulls from a deep well of personal regret for his debut feature, Little Brother. Drawing raw emotion from the memory of a friend who committed suicide, O’Donnell examines the turbulent road traveled by people who have a suicidal loved one in their lives. Is there a best way to care for them? To keep them safe? To make them understand how much they’d be leaving behind? How much they’d be missed? These are all hard questions, impossible ones maybe, and while O’Donnell comes up with no easy answers, the attempt is heartfelt and genuine much of the way.
Jake (Daniel Diemer) has been tasked by his stern, religious father (JK Simmons) to drive his older brother Pete (Philip Ettinger) all the way from Albuquerque home to Seattle. Pete has attempted suicide multiple times, and has been living alone in his late grandmother’s home. Dad hopes that a change of scenery will help, although he really believes Pete is just a screw-up looking for attention. The evidence does not support that idea, though. It’s one of those things borne of an older generation who grew up not understanding anything about therapy, and to seek help would be considered a sign of weakness. Pete has very real emotional issues that he is grappling with, while Jake is struggling to understand the brother he has always looked up to.
O’Donnell fills this road trip journey with moments of insight, revelation, beauty, and love, but also a lot of anger and resentment. All natural things between two people with as much between them as Jake and Pete. The two are polar opposites. Jake is serious and tight-lipped; Pete presents as a slacker, or as he likes to call it, a “high-functioning” stoner and alcoholic, the latter something he might’ve picked up from his father. Like true siblings, they argue over things big and small, and find common ground where least expected, like the love of good onion rings or mutual annoyance at their Dad.
“Death isn’t something to be sorry about. It means you lived.”
Little Brother can be a bit schmaltzy and heavy-handed with the screenplay, but that’s par for the course for these types of movies. It feels like O’Donnell is unburdening himself, getting a lot off of his chest using the way he can best express it. This is a deeply therapeutic, cleansing film in that way, exploring the impact of a person’s suicidal tendencies on the people most affected by it. The irony is that Pete is the most forthright and honest about himself, but there can be no simple answers to why he wants to end his life. O’Donnell doesn’t attempt to give him one, either. Pete is who he is, and perhaps nothing will ever change that. Little Brother is about Jake, and others who just want to do whatever they can to help, even knowing that someday all of their efforts might be for nothing. Until that time comes, they will continue to try and understand, to help, and be there in a time of need. This isn’t the kind of movie that draws a lot of attention, nor does it express itself with explosive, theatrical moments of conflict. It is quiet, contemplative, and sincere, and for those who can relate it will have a meaningful impact.
Gravitas Ventures opens Little Brother in theaters, digital and VOD on September 17th.
