We all have a better version of ourselves that exists in someone else’s eyes, but doesn’t come out as often as we’d like. That’s especially the case if we’ve ever been someone’s mentor – someone’s big brother, if you will – but are rarely equal in action to that lofty standard, and to the stars we put in that younger person’s eyes. Which means we’ll disappoint both ourselves and them when they show up one day, wanting to resume this idealised relationship, which life and the world have rendered quaint and anachronistic.

Why such a highfalutin opening for a review of a movie that contains jokes about eating ass and urinating through the open window of a Porsche? Because Matt Spicer’s Little Brother lands that broad comedy plane into a sweet spot of sentiment. You’ll laugh, but you will also cry – or close to it. It’s a movie that introduces paper villains for the needs of conflict, but then reveals them all to be yearning for an idealised form, an idealised form this new release on Netflix easily meets for itself.

John Cena plays Rudd Landy, a successful New York City realtor who has everything – except the respect of his older brother Josh (Christopher Meloni), an even bigger success and captain of industry, who lives in a $20 million flat and makes the covers of magazines. Rudd’s own path to similar acclaim, or so he hopes, is through the reality show NYC Hustlers, which he envisions will make him a household name. It’s the classic case of a person distracted by personal baggage that prevents him from realising what he has: a beautiful wife who organises charitable events (Michelle Monaghan), and two sons who are useful enough young adults (Bryce Gheisar and Pilot Bunch).

A much bigger distraction is on its way. Marcus Pinchel (Eric Andre) was Rudd’s little brother when he was a teenager – in other words, he was the disadvantaged boy Rudd took to do activities when the boy lacked his own parental figures and was in and out of foster homes, a bit of charity he did just to help his applications for university. Whether he was fully invested or not, Rudd was good at it and made an impression on the young Marcus – an impression Marcus thought was reciprocated, because of the email exchange they’d had in recent years. Turns out, it was Rudd’s assistant Mia (Sherry Cola) on the other end of that exchange. She thought she was doing right by Rudd in giving Marcus support but then ultimately a light brush-off, until the deception grew and she began valuing the exchange for her own reasons.

Now Marcus has busted out of the psych ward where he’d been living with a man who has a rock with makeup as his girlfriend, and he’s coming to New York to rekindle the relationship with Rudd in person. It’s right as the unsuspecting Rudd is about to try out for NYC Hustlers, and Rudd is unsurprisingly suspicious of the motivations of a person he hasn’t seen in 30 years, who is essentially a stranger. But Marcus has a positive impact on everyone but Rudd, and he may be key either to getting on the show and possibly getting the listing for Josh’s $20 million home, or bringing the whole thing crashing down.

The pairing of Cena and Andre promises wacky hijinks, and those certainly due ensue. In fact, Cena played essentially Andre’s role in Peter Farrelly’s Ricky Stanicky two years ago, which was on Netflix’s rival Amazon. Here he plays the straight man, but Andre’s broad career, combined with Cena’s own experience in that role, suggests a movie too big for its own comedic scope, possibly with disconnected set pieces that don’t really contribute to the general narrative thrust.

It’s difficult to anticipate, then, how much heart Little Brother has, and how much everything works in concert with the screenplay by Jarrad Paul and Andrew Mogel. This is a high concept but it is also a fresh take on a real sort of relationship that exists in the world, which isn’t usually considered in the movies. A well-meaning but clueless character leeching on to our frustrated protagonist rarely works as well as it does here, because usually that leech is violating some social rule in order to do so, and we are as impatient with him as the protagonist is. Here, even broader conceits like his origins in a psych ward work well, because the whole thing feels true and plausible.

What’s more, the leads modulate their performances so they are not too wacky nor too straight. Andre has worn out his welcome in some of his previous roles, but here he feels like a true original who would add a spice of self-analysis to those he meets with his genial pushing of their boundaries. And Cena’s straighter demeanour hides the fact that he’s got great comic timing at his disposal when he needs it.

In the supporting roles, Monaghan radiates good wifery, but not because she’s an ornament to Rudd, either physically or in terms of the narrative structure. Rather, she drives the film’s morality, essentially acting as Rudd’s superego that has strayed in the years since he made such an impact on the young Marcus. Her accepting of Marcus with open arms, volunteering their house as a place for him to stay, feels both genuine and key to the journey Rudd most go on. But perhaps the greatest surprises are reserved for Meloni as the older brother, who in lesser movies would be only a series of micro and macro aggressions that trigger Rudd. Let’s just say he’s got more to do in this story. Cola is also great adding a bit of what Awkwafina might bring to a project like this.

There’s a funny, light cynicism to this script as well. Caleb Hearon and Ego Nwodim play representatives of the reality show, whose every decision is geared toward the maximum possible viewership, in ways that also feel true to life even while being absurd. For example, they entertain the notion of using AI and deepfakes to achieve the ideal televised moment that is otherwise eluding them, and if we don’t believe these people would really do that, we should.

Spicer directed a memorable comedy involving a social media influencer and her determined stalker called Ingrid Goes West, and you can see the same essential dynamic at play here. Little Brother may come in a more accessible, streamer-friendly package, with lots more blue humour even than what has already been mentioned in this review. But it also has a more optimistic view overall about the capacity of human beings to locate the best versions of themselves, and that might be something we need right now more than we need the deeper cynicism of Ingrid. We always need to laugh, and Little Brother has that covered as well.

 

Little Brother is currently streaming on Netflix.