True Grit meets Pulp Fiction meets Deadwood meets ... Don Quixote?
That makes "The Sisters Brothers" sound derivative and unoriginal, but what it really is, is a "True Grit meets ..." for 2019. What begins as an ordinary mission of death and retribution to the enemies of their employer, the mysterious Commodore, results in the Sisters brothers, Eli and Charlie, learning things that begin to shake their loyalty, and wonder if they have been misled.
Here's a hint, the Commodore has promised to make them all great again, basking in his reflected greatness. Here's a mild spoiler: he's not.
It's as if two members of Ned Pepper's gang had begun to question their life choices. As if Vincent and Jules had moved on from their earnest discussions of McDonald's Royales to wonder aloud about their motivations, and question their loyalty to their employer. It's as if Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had started to realize that the windmills weren't the only things they they had to worry about.
I enjoyed this immensely. I enjoyed the dynamic between the two brothers, the gentle and uncharismatic Eli, who falls in love with every lady who speaks to him politely and doesn't immediately make fun of him, and who would like to give up killing on behalf of the Commodore, the way a regular person would like to give up candy for Lent (ie, with good intentions, but without much hope of success). And stone-cold killer Charlie, who fancies himself a Commodore-in-training, and considers the trail of bodies that he leaves in his wake to be the natural by-product of that ambition. And the rag-tag assortment of humanity that they encounter during their latest mission on behalf of the Commodore: the fakes, the self-deceived, and the blindly optimistic. One man, who repeatedly crosses their path, is crying so hard, he can't catch his breath long enough to explain why he is crying.
In 2019, I can relate to that.
That makes "The Sisters Brothers" sound derivative and unoriginal, but what it really is, is a "True Grit meets ..." for 2019. What begins as an ordinary mission of death and retribution to the enemies of their employer, the mysterious Commodore, results in the Sisters brothers, Eli and Charlie, learning things that begin to shake their loyalty, and wonder if they have been misled.
Here's a hint, the Commodore has promised to make them all great again, basking in his reflected greatness. Here's a mild spoiler: he's not.
It's as if two members of Ned Pepper's gang had begun to question their life choices. As if Vincent and Jules had moved on from their earnest discussions of McDonald's Royales to wonder aloud about their motivations, and question their loyalty to their employer. It's as if Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had started to realize that the windmills weren't the only things they they had to worry about.
I enjoyed this immensely. I enjoyed the dynamic between the two brothers, the gentle and uncharismatic Eli, who falls in love with every lady who speaks to him politely and doesn't immediately make fun of him, and who would like to give up killing on behalf of the Commodore, the way a regular person would like to give up candy for Lent (ie, with good intentions, but without much hope of success). And stone-cold killer Charlie, who fancies himself a Commodore-in-training, and considers the trail of bodies that he leaves in his wake to be the natural by-product of that ambition. And the rag-tag assortment of humanity that they encounter during their latest mission on behalf of the Commodore: the fakes, the self-deceived, and the blindly optimistic. One man, who repeatedly crosses their path, is crying so hard, he can't catch his breath long enough to explain why he is crying.
In 2019, I can relate to that.
