Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey star in a new Apple TV comedy that trades on a tabloid rumor about a sexual encounter between their mothers. The show, Brothers, is built around that anecdote and draws on the public personas the two stars established in True Detective and AI enterprise software roles.
The series reunites the real-life friends as the Harrelson clan crashes at the McConaughey family ranch. It is directed by Lee Eisenberg, who hired a roster of writers and directors from Modern Family, American Office, and New Girl. The result is a show that leans on the chemistry between the leads rather than a strong narrative.
“an endless barrage of egomaniacal and borderline sociopathic behavior from both of you.”
The Rumor at the Center
Brothers opens with a title card calling itself “based on a true rumor.” The rumor concerns a sexual encounter between Harrelson’s father and McConaughey’s mother, played by Holland Taylor with plenty of southern-fried pluck. The mystery of McConaughey’s paternity is treated as window dressing, though the show makes clear that Harrelson and McConaughey are possibly biological brothers.
The actual plot follows three threads. Harrelson’s eldest daughter Olive, played by Highdee Kuan, is dealing with a broken engagement. Harrelson’s father pays for his old sins. And McConaughey runs for political office, a thread The A.V. Club‘s review calls the most forced and farthest fetched.
Lisa Gilroy plays a high-strung campaign manager who upbraids both men. Her lines only kinda sorta capture the show’s problems.
Co-Stars vs. Blood
The show is no vanity project. Harrelson allows himself to look foolish, particularly in scenes where his exaggerated personal beliefs and hippie-dippy flakiness make him a thorn in everyone’s side. His performance recalls the comedic spirit of Woody Boyd, the golden retriever character he played in Cheers.
McConaughey plays a more subdued straight man, fitting the poet-philosopher guise he adopted after True Detective. He gets less color to play, and the review suggests he coasts through his scenes more than Harrelson does.
The show’s visuals capitalize on the natural beauty of its Texas Hill Country setting. Directors Trent O’Donnell, Erin O’Malley, and Jason Winer and writers Brett Baer, Dave Finkel, Alex Cuthbertson, and Matt Fusfeld bring experience from the sitcom era the show most resembles. KPop Demon Hunters screenwriters Danya Jimenez and Hannah McMechan handle the music-heavy episodes.
Half-Baked, Queue-Filler
Brothers sits between a working vacation for movie stars and a bingeable crowd-pleaser. The production is polished, but the premise is thin. The half-hour episodes are easy to watch, like the craft brews McConaughey holds up to the camera, but they leave no regrettable hangover behind.
There are earnest attempts at fleshing out family members and relationships. Harrelson and Kuan develop a tender dynamic, and the gossip about Olive’s grandfather and mother provides welcome relief from her romantic troubles. But the show never quite settles on whether any of it matters.
The campaign storyline, despite its Texas-size scale, lacks the personal stakes found among the Harrelsons. The show feels extremely contemporary in mostly unflattering ways. It is queue-filler of the highest order — TV-like product with megastar wattage.
Brothers is a pleasant enough watch, but it is only half-baked. The leads are game, the production is polished, and the jokes occasionally land. But the premise is thin, the campaign storyline is forced, and the show never quite earns its runtime. It is a solid, forgettable entry in the crowded field of celebrity-driven streamers.
Source material: “Unlike its stars, Brothers is only half-baked,” The A.V. Club.
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