Release Date: June 25, 2004
Starring: Guy Pierce, Jean-Claude Dreyfus, Oanh Nguyen, Freddie Highmore
Directed by: Jean-Jacques Annaud
Written by: Alain Godard, Jean-Jacques Annaud
Distributed by: Universal Pictures
MPAA Rating: PG (mild violence)
Two Brothers is one of those movies that is good in theory but less so in execution. It is a family film about two tigers, Kumal and Sangha, who grow up together in the jungles of 1920’s French Indochina but are later separated and end up leading vastly different lives. It is also a film with much to say about the white man’s role in the virginal wilderness. But family films are rarely the best pulpit for complex topics like this, and what could’ve been an intriguing commentary on manifest destiny designed for an older viewership is, more often than not, reduced to slapstick, madcap comedy aimed at pleasing only the youngsters in the audience.
Still, the film has moments that will please both children and adults. Director Jean-Jacques Annaud, who also wrote the movie, with Alain Godard, has assembled an impressive stockpile of live-action animal footage. The two tigers, Kumal and Sangha, begin the movie as cubs and grow into adults, and, except for added sound effects and the occasional computer-generated touch-ups, are seen in what feels like a very natural setting -- the shots that Annaud and his cinematographer, Jean-Marie Drejou, have here could easily pass for documentary stock in a National Geographic special. The painstaking effort that Annaud and company must have gone through to capture the tigers (and other animals) like this gives the film an untouchable edge of honesty, and also a leg up on animated movies that want to sell the same message.
Much like those animated films, Two Brothers is not afraid to play for affection and sympathy; the pint-sized cubs and the amusingly audacious sounds they make are certain to induce a chorus of awwws from many viewers. But the entire film is not all fun and games. Shortly after Kumal and Sangha make their initial appearances, their blissful existence is interrupted by the arrival of the famous big-game hunter and explorer Aidan McRory (Guy Pierce), who has come to Southeast Asia in search of statues to sell at auction in London. When the cubs’ father is run off by the McRory expedition, McRory himself winds up in possession of Kumal -- but is later forced to give him up to the circus when he is arrested for looting.
Meanwhile, Sangha is discovered by the young son (Freddie Highmore) of a French official (Jean-Claude Dreyfus), who later sells the tiger off to the local potentate (Oanh Nguyen) when the cub proves to be too much trouble. Then, after over a year in captivity, the two tigers are reunited -- in an arena, as part of a staged fight in front of an audience. Sangha, who has been living in the wild much longer than Kumal, will easily destroy his brother, unless the two tigers can still recognize each other after so much time apart.
This key scene is not as suspenseful as it should be; after all, this is a family movie, and things have a way of turning out for the best in films of this genre. While children may find themselves anxiously awaiting the inevitable moment of recognition, adults will be wishing that the story of the humans’ interactions with the tigers was given more depth and focus.
It would have interesting, for instance, if more time was spent on the character of Aidan McRory. As it is, he is reduced to the prototypical great white hunter in a story that feels oddly antiquated, and Pierce struggles to coax a genuine performance out of the part. The actor does have a rugged, slightly ruthless edge that helps to amplify the character’s moral shadings -- on one hand, he’s not above stealing sacred and priceless statues, but on the other, he also struggles with his decision to capture Kumal, given that the tiger is now forced to perform for show -- but he still feels too much like a proxy for writer-director Annaud, and the message he wants to get to the audience. Pierce, hamstrung by a shallow script, could’ve applied his soft touch to great effect if McRory had been given a more substantial part in the film; as it is, he wades through a sea of lukewarm writing, tepid acting, and awkward dubbing like Clint Eastwood in a spaghetti Western.
The film is also stripped of any chance it has to properly explore the philosophical quandaries that McRory and others face. As McRory worries about the fate of Kumal, whom he grows increasingly attached to as the story progresses, another character consoles him -- if he hadn’t taken possession of Kumal, the young cub would’ve starved to death in the wild for lack of true hunting skills. But McRory responds that such tigers inevitably outgrow their domestic confines and, looking to feed themselves, turn to the easiest prey they can find: humans. The movie wants to advance tigers as great noble creatures who, if left to develop naturally, would only kill humans if provoked, but few characters in the movie, other than McRory, seem to understand this -- another interesting point, considering that much of the tiger-hunting in the film is done not by McRory but by locals like the potentate who eventually buys Sangha for his menagerie.
But even if these topics had been more fully explored by Annaud and his crew, their focus likely would’ve gone unappreciated by the family audiences that Two Brothers is undeniably marketed toward pleasing. This isn’t to say that youngsters aren’t capable of understanding a spot of moral or philosophical ambiguity when it arises, only that it needs to be hammered home, as in many of the like-minded, Disney-produced animated features that feature animals involved in quandaries worthy of Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas. Two Brothers sidesteps this requirement altogether, assuming that its live-animal action will provide the gravity where its screenwriting does not; this is not necessarily true, but at least it provides for a nice change of pace.
-- Craig Roush (craigroush@hotmail.com)