Director: James Sweeney
Writer: James Sweeney
Stars: Dylan O’Brien, James Sweeney, Alexa
Synopsis: Two grieving men bond in support group and form unlikely friendship.
Therapy isn’t exactly a one-stop shop for every demon in an individual’s arsenal – “Take it from someone who knows,” he says, as if anyone who has ever gone to therapy hasn’t walked away feeling like the foremost authority on the matter – but in one way or another, it tends to serve as a jumping off point for people, no matter what they happen to be going through. And, for that matter, whether or not they respond to the therapy itself, or just happen to identify with another soul in the grieving circle. In James Sweeney’s triumphant sophomore feature Twinless, Roman (Dylan O’Brien) finds identification with Dennis (Sweeney), both of whom begin attending group therapy specifically for people whose twins have died. The odd thing about it – their connection, not the therapy session, whose leader (Tasha Smith) seems to be more interested in using the group to try out the stand-up routine she and her boyfriend-stealing sister Claire never got to debut together – is that Roman and Dennis have absolutely nothing in common. Their first conversation, unfolding in a diner where Roman inhales a panini while Dennis sits food-less, proves as much. The latter doesn’t seem to know that there’s a city called Moscow anywhere but Idaho; when he complains that his mother has started charging him rent to live in her basement, and Dennis asks how she’s taking it, Roman replies, “Cash.” Because obviously, that’s what Dennis was curious about.
Nevertheless, a friendship blossoms, one based far more on their personal differences and their seemingly similar losses. They bond frequently on trips to the grocery store, attempting to stock Roman’s barren pantry with more than a single pop tart and a jar of olives. The unlikely duo browse bookstores together, with Dennis picking out worthwhile titles based on their cover art, a practice Roman has to warm to given how he was taught not to judge something in such a manner. (One of the many common adages he takes literally over the course of 100 tender minutes.) But there’s far more to Sweeney’s dramedy than what initially meets the eye, that being a film far less about found connection than it is about the root of undisclosed infatuation. It’s a film that starts out feeling like one thing, only to repeatedly rip the rug out from beneath your feet every time you feel even the slightest semblance of comfort.
In less capable hands, Twinless might feel manipulative and overly-calculated for the purpose of deliberately testing its audience’s patience as it takes another twist, and then another turn for good measure. But Sweeney manages to keep things unexpected in a way that doesn’t shy away from the film’s queasy developments, rather embracing them in an effort that highlights a rare grasp of the human condition. When it comes to grief, it’s almost natural to cope by doing things we aren’t proud of; it’s likely that we know we’re doing something wrong, yet aren’t willing to give up the bad habits just yet due to their resuscitative powers.
As a matter of fact, it’s deliciously ironic that Roman and Dennis encounter one another at a therapy session, given how everything that follows their initially-friendly meet-cute would be a licensed psychologist’s nightmare. It’s difficult to even talk about what unfolds after Twinless’s title card drops a little more than 15 minutes into the picture – never a bad sign – aside from praising its creatives, from the director-writer-star in Sweeney on down to Marcie, the receptionist at Dennis’ office who initially seems a bit too empty-headed to be a character of any consequence yet ultimately allows Twinless to broaden its reach beyond that of a showcase for the never-better O’Brien, exceptional as the evolving Roman in the present and the already-evolved Rocky in occasional flashbacks. Perhaps it only feels that way because Marcie is played by a note-perfect Aisling Franciosi, who revels in the bliss of a role that affords her the opportunity to have a bit of fun on screen, something the Irish actress had yet to experience in her career. (Spoiler: Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale and Twinless have nothing in common.) Or, perhaps the charm she brings to the procession is thanks not only to her chameleonic gifts as a performer, but to Sweeney’s whip-smart script, one that lets its characters breathe rather than forcing those inhabiting them to create something out of nothing.
Therein lies the true charm to Twinless, a film not without faults but one with more than enough heart to make you willing to look past the elements that make it occasionally feel as though its working too hard to fill the space between the “shockers,” for lack of a better word, of its early, middle, and late-stage revelations. (In case you have yet to catch on, Sweeney is itching to keep you guessing, and is willing to have his work ask for forgiveness later rather than begging, “Hey, would you mind if I wrongfoot you just once more?”) If much of its runtime makes its audience feel a bit too much like Charlie Brown believing that Lucy couldn’t possibly yank the football away at the last second again, there’s plenty of technical prowess to make up for that, too. In Straight Up, Sweeney’s debut, the problem wasn’t entirely with its writing, just that it never went far enough beyond the trappings of its premise, one that seemed to care less about developing its characters than forcing you to accept being fussy as a personality trait. With Twinless, the director in Sweeney seems to have caught up with the scribe; even if he tends to go back to the well one too many times with some editing tricks that will make viewers moan with intrigue one second before inducing an eye-roll the next. He plays with mirrors an awful lot, an obvious metaphor for a movie about twins to settle on as its key visual maneuver, but each one of these shots succeeds in making one question whether or not the film’s key players are willing to accept what’s staring back at them.
Sweeney’s other go-to – split screens that initially separate the two parties on either side – always resolve themselves by fading away, leaving us with a conjoined image of Roman moving forward and Dennis hurdling backwards into his ever-familiar state of obscurity. If they initially feel like an unnecessary gimmick, much like the film’s multiple surprises, these moments tend to uncover the deepest truths of all: No matter how often we try to identify with the people around us, no matter what they represent, and certainly no matter who we may or may not have shared a womb with, the only person we’re left with in the end is ourselves. Twinless is endlessly curious about whether or not we are willing to accept that, but it’s also wise enough to know that there isn’t a universal answer to that quandary, and certainly no universal way to cope with the dilemma, either.
