Recent decades have seen an exponential increase in the number of brother filmmaking teams: the Coens, the Wachowskis (well, not now – editor), the Zuckers, the Duplasses, the Hughes, the Russos, and the brothers Farrelly and Polish. Now add to that list the Toronto brothers, Matthew and Aaron. Their first full-length collaboration, The Pact, written by both, directed by Matthew, and co-starring Aaron, boasts an intriguing premise: two unlucky-in-love brothers swear an oath to lay off women for a year: "No flirting, no racy thoughts"—they're to live like "monks." No sooner have they sealed the promise in blood than their loyalties are tested—Grant, the obsessive monogamist, is instantly, and rather improbably, tempted by a series of women, notably Charlie, a free-spirited massage therapist he meets in the bar where the blood-oath was sworn. Meanwhile, brother Ancel, a struggling musician recently dumped by his wife, makes abortive (and disloyal-to-The Pact) efforts to hit on several women, including an attempt to pay a prostitute for fellatio, which is foiled by a fire alarm. Once the quasi-magic properties of The Pact are established, the movie settles into a more familiar indie romcom mode, with occasional back-forays into broad comedy. Charlie moves into Grant's apartment building, where homeless Ancel is sponging on his brother, and becomes the vertex of a bromantic triangle, while Jackie, the bartender who witnessed the blood oath, pines for Grant, her secret crush, counting the days until the year is up.
Though the resolution is fairly predictable—in a good way—the movie manages to keep us guessing at various points, the pace rarely slackens, and the rivalry between the brothers feels grounded in something real. As Grant, the sentimental idealist, Neil Brookshire projects a likable Tom Everett Scott/Hamish Linklater vibe. In addition to supplying some lovely songs, (his musicianship gets better as the movie progresses, for reasons that weren't entirely clear to this reviewer), Aaron Toronto has several moments of genuine sweetness and pain. Nika Ericson is especially convincing as Charlie, the woman who latches on to the brothers and eventually comes between them, and Jordan Toronto, as Jackie the bartender, deftly allows us to guess at her true feelings for Grant—in a way, she's the most affecting character in the piece. The dialogue is often very sharp, and the photography crisp and effective (if somewhat over-reliant on close-ups).
What's problematical here is the tone. For this reviewer, the best scenes are the casual domestic scenes, which for the most part are written, played, and directed realistically. The supernatural elements and the broad comedy are less successful. To some extent, this is the result of the script's failure to establish early enough the magic nature of The Pact, and the rules that govern it. When a series of women improbably throw themselves at Grant, we don't quite know how to take it, any more than we buy Charlie's and Jackie's descriptions of the Everyman-ish Grant as "yummy." As far as this reviewer could tell, Ancel's attempts to hit on women are never cited as violations of The Pact—it seems to be enough that they fail. Ancel matures as a man and a musician, but as a result of what is not entirely clear, and his admission that he was responsible for his failed marriage comes out of the blue. But all's well that ends well, and given its obvious budget constraints (this is basically a two-location movie—the bar and Grant's apartment), The Pact holds its own in a crowded indie field.
Though the resolution is fairly predictable—in a good way—the movie manages to keep us guessing at various points, the pace rarely slackens, and the rivalry between the brothers feels grounded in something real. As Grant, the sentimental idealist, Neil Brookshire projects a likable Tom Everett Scott/Hamish Linklater vibe. In addition to supplying some lovely songs, (his musicianship gets better as the movie progresses, for reasons that weren't entirely clear to this reviewer), Aaron Toronto has several moments of genuine sweetness and pain. Nika Ericson is especially convincing as Charlie, the woman who latches on to the brothers and eventually comes between them, and Jordan Toronto, as Jackie the bartender, deftly allows us to guess at her true feelings for Grant—in a way, she's the most affecting character in the piece. The dialogue is often very sharp, and the photography crisp and effective (if somewhat over-reliant on close-ups).
What's problematical here is the tone. For this reviewer, the best scenes are the casual domestic scenes, which for the most part are written, played, and directed realistically. The supernatural elements and the broad comedy are less successful. To some extent, this is the result of the script's failure to establish early enough the magic nature of The Pact, and the rules that govern it. When a series of women improbably throw themselves at Grant, we don't quite know how to take it, any more than we buy Charlie's and Jackie's descriptions of the Everyman-ish Grant as "yummy." As far as this reviewer could tell, Ancel's attempts to hit on women are never cited as violations of The Pact—it seems to be enough that they fail. Ancel matures as a man and a musician, but as a result of what is not entirely clear, and his admission that he was responsible for his failed marriage comes out of the blue. But all's well that ends well, and given its obvious budget constraints (this is basically a two-location movie—the bar and Grant's apartment), The Pact holds its own in a crowded indie field.