In director Jim Archer’s subtly humorous mockumentary about a lonely inventor and his defiant invention, the powers of creation and friendship come to life
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In his 1831 poem “A Psalm of Life,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote this encouraging line: “Let us, then, be up and doing.” It’s a trumpet call to shake off the inevitable sorrows of life and move forward. Don’t wail in the past, the poem implores; instead, carry on and explore what is still left to be enjoyed.
A version of that line seems to be going through the protagonist’s head in the opening scene of Brian and Charles, where we see Brian—a thick-bearded, good-hearted, deep- voiced inventor—busy inside his workshop.
“I was very low,” he says. Low precisely about what, that’s never really clear. A personal slight? An invention gone horribly wrong? Whatever the case, he’s no couch potato: “Any little idea I had, I just made.” Not a bad ethos. Night and day he saws and hammers, tinkers and toys around inside his modest dwelling outside rainy Wales.
It’s hard not to like the spirit of Brian and Charles. It’s also hard to deny that during its 90-minute runtime more than a few scenes fall flat. The film’s deadpan humor is amusing only for so long, and in any case, it can’t make up for the story’s thin plot. That said, actors David Earl (Brian) and Chris Hayward (Charles, the robot) are well casted for their respective roles.
Some of the best scenes in the movie come right at the beginning. In the opening scene, Brian shows us around Ploxgreen Cottage. He takes us to his “Inventions Pantry,” as he calls his makeshift workshop, where many of his creations were born. There’s the egg belt and pinecone bag, which are pretty much what they sound like. There’s a flying cuckoo clock, a bit more interesting, though not immune to bursting into flames. Brian’s ultimate aim has always been to build a robot. (It’s not hard to see where this is going.)
Less than twenty minutes into the film, that vision has come true. Fittingly enough, it’s on a dark and stormy night that Brian’s creation spurs to life. By the following day, Brian and the robot have settled on a name: Charles Petrescu. A friendship ensues, with all the playfully awkward interactions you would expect between a human being and a haphazardly made robot with a washing machine for its torso.
Aside from Brian and Charles, there are few other characters in the film, and practically none of them are developed. The slight exception is Hazel, a sweet and gentle young woman who becomes Brian’s romantic interest and somewhat artistic cheerleader.
As Brian becomes increasingly interested in Hazel, Charles becomes increasingly interested in exploring the outside world. (A tourism commercial for Hawaii really gets him perked up.) But Brian isn’t especially keen for the other people to see his robotic creation, and for much of the film he remains highly protective of Charles, just as a parent would be of their child. This sets off some robot angst, which includes blasting rock music and mild name-calling, like “Bossy Pants.”
As much as the film is about friendship, it’s also about the act of creating and the inherent vulnerability of having one’s work be seen and judged, even attacked. The movie’s main tension comes from the presence of a ragtag, scourge-of-the-village family who want to do harm to Charles. They value little else but destruction. Things get tense when the day of the village’s annual bonfire approaches.
With its quirky and socially awkward characters, combined with its robot element, Brian and Charles has a lot of fun content at its disposal. But the movie ultimately feels underwhelming and quickly forgettable. The mockumentary aspect of the film is one of its weaknesses. Other than as a convenient ploy with which to facilitate the opening scenes—with Brian speaking to the camera about his cottage and inventions—there seems to be little reason for having adopted the style. In fact, it’s largely absent for the entire middle of the film, only to reappear toward the end.
Despite its flaws, Brian and Charles is still very much worth viewing on one of those lazy, rainy evenings when the warmth of a good story about friendship and dreams feels especially enticing.
Spectatio 