In James Sweeney’s wise and disarmingly funny second feature, “Twinless,” two men meet in an emotional support group for those who’ve lost an identical sibling. That seems as good a place as any to talk about codependency, although it’s actually the even more universal subject of loneliness that animates Sweeney’s insightful coping comedy, which premiered on opening night of the Sundance Film Festival. Sweeney recognizes that some of his laughs could be in poor taste, but isn’t shy about casting himself as a weirdo, when such discomfort can point the way toward deeper truths.
“They say there’s nothing worse than losing a child, but maybe there is,” says Lauren Graham, who plays the mother of early-30s brothers Rocky and Roman, both embodied by Dylan O’Brien in an impressive pair of performances so different, it’s hard to imagine the same actor responsible for creating them both. Her extroverted gay son Rocky dies off-screen in the opening shot, and the uneasy chuckles begin one scene later, at the well-liked young man’s funeral, where mourners break down when they see Roman’s face, since it’s identical to the friend they’ve lost (minus the mustache).
Somewhat counterintuitively, Roman’s not at all like his brother. Where Rocky radiated confidence and could talk to anyone, Roman is shy and self-conscious. He’s gullible and not great with words (by his own admission, he’s “not the brightest tool in the shed”). So it’s a relief to him when he meets Dennis (Sweeney) at a group therapy session, since this witty gay stranger seems to remind him a bit of his brother. As for Dennis, who always seems to have a zinger up his sleeve, the connection is a little more creepy, since he not-so-discreetly covets this studly fellow survivor.
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Sweeney, who does not have a twin in real life, has spent some serious time thinking about the special bond twins share, weaving those ideas into a script that has a few sick twists up its sleeve — if not full-blown twincest, then at least a highly unconventional “bromance” involving the transference of an erotic fixation from one sibling to another, plus an equally unnatural ability to quote from classic Olsen twins movies. It’s a tonal tightwire act, to say the least, as Sweeney balances unconscionable behavior with an earnest look at bereavement, anxiety and anger management.
“Twinless” treats Roman’s bereavement with utmost sincerity, allowing O’Brien to play the tears and ensuing numbness as realistically as possible. But Dennis is a more complicated character: a cringey, almost predatory force who doesn’t know where to draw the line. Early on, he seems like a normal enough guy, quickly agreeing to buy groceries or have dinner with Roman. Few people can relate to what they’re feeling, Roman explains, but when he asks, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Dennis doesn’t dare be honest.
Cue the flashback to a short time earlier, when he met Rocky. The two hooked up, and Dennis — who’s so clingy he would’ve hitched himself to Rocky right there if he could — went a little bit crazy. Which means that now, when Dennis and Roman go to therapy, they’re actually mourning the same twin.
From the moment audiences know that, “Twinless” becomes either cruel or kinky, depending on your persuasions. Sweeney shares New Queer Cinema legend Gregg Araki’s affinity for dumb straight dudes, plus a withering condescension toward lesser intellects, offset by the humility to let those characters reveal their superior emotional intelligence over time, as Dennis’ chipper co-worker Marcie does (an excellent supporting turn from Aisling Franciosi).
Sweeney structures his script in such a way that the point of view shifts from one character to another at various moments in the film. There’s even a scene where the screen splits and follows both Roman and Dennis — who’ve arrived at a Halloween party, both dressed as Sims — as they attempt to make friends with the singletons in attendance (folks who’ve always been “twinless”). By this point, the two have started to think of one another as substitutes for the brother they lost, but since one is straight and the other gay, other relationships are bound to get in their way.
Can significant others really compete with the connection that twins share, even if they’re not technically one another’s twins? And can these two really hope to re-create between themselves what’s been lost in their own lives? Sweeney complicates these questions by letting audiences in on certain details other characters don’t know, asking us to root for someone whose profound loneliness and insecurity feeds an unhealthy narcissism.
As in his hyperarticulate 2019 debut, the present-day screwball comedy “Straight Up,” Sweeney uses clever dialogue both to reveal and disguise his characters’ true intentions. Roman is too guileless to pick up on the catty sarcasm beneath many of Dennis’ comments, but audiences can’t miss them — as when he tells Roman, “I don’t think I have a type,” saying it slowly enough for us to recognize the irony.
This doesn’t seem like a healthy friendship, and yet, Sweeney acknowledges how two people who suddenly feel more alone than they ever have can fill a void in one another’s lives. On just his second film, the gifted young helmer demonstrates a sophisticated sense of framing, pace and exquisitely uncomfortable dramatic tension, compounded by Jung-Jae Il’s anxious Philip Glass-like score. After playing the heel for long enough, Sweeney lets his character off a little too easily — but he ties everything together beautifully in the last scene, where the two screwed-up friends turn out to have more in common that either did with his missing twin.