‘Twinless’ Review: Dylan O’Brien Does Double Duty in Sly and Stirring Queer Charmer
After his twin brother dies, Roman (Dylan O’Brien), an irascible young man living in Portland, becomes emotionally unmoored. What is life without his other half? So far not great. The funeral for Rocky is an awkward affair. Mourners line up to offer Roman and his mother (Lauren Graham) condolences only to start crying the moment they come face to face with the living twin. He looks so much like his brother, they say, it’s weird and a little uncanny.
Premiering at Sundance, James Sweeney’s sly dark comedy Twinless might inspire similar sentiments. The film boasts an off-kilter tone — think the absurdity of Problemista meets the wry sensibility of The Feeling That the Time for Doing Something Has Passed — that shocks before it settles. Like Julio Torres and Joanna Arnow, Sweeney walks a tightrope, shifting between dry humor, gutting devastation and emotional poignancy with varying degrees of success. But even when Twinless falters, it always steadies itself and succeeds in other ways.
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Sweeney’s gripping screenplay is pocked with withering observations on grief and loneliness, as well as a handful of clever narrative twists. Twinless, like Sweeney’s debut Straight Up, showcases the director-screenwriter’s skill in translating symptoms of modern malaise. His protagonists are anxious, confession-prone young people in search of connection. Sweeney’s cast — there are excellent turns from Aisling Franciosi (The Nightingale, Speak No Evil) and Abbott Elementary’s Chris Perfetti — deploy their witty retorts, bleak sentiments and existential worries at a bracing and confident clip. O’Brien, who starred in last year’s sweaty Sundance crime thriller Ponyboi, offers a particularly committed and impressive performance. The actor does double duty playing Roman and his brother Rocky, identical siblings who couldn’t be more different, and assuredly adjusts to each role’s unique demands.
Twinless rewards ignorance of its antics, so it’s best to go in with as little information as possible. For the spoiler averse, now is the time to abandon ship. After the funeral, Roman joins a support group for now-twinless siblings. The bereaved participants, led by Charlotte (a scene stealing Tasha Smith), gather in a spare multimedia room to process their loss. Over inedible cookies and tepid beverages, they share memories about their deceased other halves and lament being “singletons.”
It’s here that Roman meets Dennis (Sweeney), a lanky graphic designer and hopeless romantic. The two bond as only grieving people can, relying on each other, at first for small errands and then for emotional support. Roman mourns the ways he will never get to know Rocky, who was gay, extroverted and well-travelled, and recalls how they rarely talked about anything before he died. The living twin, who describes himself as not the most quick-witted or ambitious person, couldn’t always relate to his brother. Their phone calls stayed on the surface; their last conversation was about socks.
Sweeney stages these early scenes with the intimate awkwardness and humor of a tender buddy comedy. A blunt cut (the precise editing is by Nik Boyanov) shifts the mood. The opening credits roll and the perspective changes from Roman to Dennis. Portland’s somber grayness is alleviated by sharp neons (Sweeney collaborates again with Straight Up cinematographer Greg Cotten). It turns out Dennis knew Rocky before he died: We see the two spend a glowing evening together, having sex and exchanging secrets. Dennis admits to an obsession with twins and to nursing a Parent Trap-esque fantasy as a child to stave off loneliness.
O’Brien transforms in this alternate perspective. The Maze Runner actor sloughs off Roman’s moody persona, replacing that twin’s abrasive bluntness and struggle with idioms with the other’s quick wit and seductive charm. A smart makeover — Rocky has a mustache and style beyond black sweatshirts and jeans (costume design is by Erin Orr) — helps cinch this metamorphosis.
This and other revelations sour Roman and Dennis’ endearing bond and debunk the spontaneity of the pair’s first encounter. As Sweeney gives us more insight into Dennis’ life, the clever twink becomes a more complex character, and Twinless must balance its earnest meditations on grief with the darkness of its heightened stakes. Sweeney’s confident filmmaking eases the bumpier parts of this transition. Twinless compels from its opening moments, and rarely lets up: If the meme “Never let them know your next move” was a movie, it would be this one.
Although not himself a twin, Sweeney seems to have deeply considered the special bond between such siblings and deftly combines those observations with his own musings on loneliness. What makes Twinless special and surprisingly compassionate is how this director handles grieving characters. He tends to Roman, who demonstrates surprising levels of emotional intimacy, and Dennis, whose compulsions slowly start to read more as sad desperation.
In one of the film’s best scenes, Dennis encourages Roman to process his emotions by talking to him as if he were Rocky. The two sit across from each other, and in a moment of obvious but affecting transference, the usually restrained twin lets out a torrent of emotion. How Sweeney stages that scene (in intimate, almost claustrophobic close-up) and how O’Brien navigates his character’s sadness, as it morphs into rage and reverts to sadness again, are nothing short of deeply moving.
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