

2023·Drama·2h
7.1
★








Sons of Caribbean immigrants, Francis and Michael face questions of masculinity, identity and family amid the pulsing beat of Toronto's early hip-hop scene. A mystery unfolds when escalating tensions set off a series of events which changes the course of the brothers’ lives forever.
Directed by Clement Virgo
toronto, canada
family relationships
coming of age
masculinity
mother son relationship
brother brother relationship
police violence

Trailer

IMDB
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Where to Watch



Cast

Lamar Johnson
Michael

Aaron Pierre
Francis

Kiana Madeira
Aisha

Marsha Stephanie Blake
Ruth

Lovell Adams-Gray
Jelly

Maurice Dean Wint
Samuel

Taveeta Szymanowicz
Goose

Dwain Murphy
Dru

Anthony Grant
The Conductor

Khalid Karim
Cop

Orville Cummings
Youth

Evan Buliung
Officer Duke
Crew

Clement Virgo
Director

Clement Virgo
Screenplay

Damon D'Oliveira
Producer

Clement Virgo
Producer

Aeschylus Poulos
Producer

Aaron L. Gilbert
Executive Producer

Noah Segal
Executive Producer

Krystin Hunter
Dialogue Editor

Krystin Hunter
ADR Editor

Angelica Lisk-Hann
Stunt Coordinator

Al Vrkljan
Stunt Driver

Kara Wooten
Stunts
Popular Reviews
42 reviews
Joshua Mitchell
8.0★ · 03/03/26

Highly recommend. The storytelling was tightly done, I feel like the characters we were meant to care about were presented to us in a heartfelt way for sure. Michael really seemed like he needed and hung onto his brother, even working the same job. 10 years later and he still hadn’t let go
Francis surely ended up in a lot of situations that could’ve ended him.
Francis surely ended up in a lot of situations that could’ve ended him.
Highly recommend. The storytelling was tightly done, I feel like the characters we were meant to care about were presented to us in a heartfelt way for sure. Michael really seemed like he needed and hung onto his brother, even working the same job. 10 years later and he still hadn’t let go
Francis surely ended up in a lot of situations that could’ve ended him.
Francis surely ended up in a lot of situations that could’ve ended him.
Diogo Magalhães
7.0★ · 09/15/25

A powerhouse performance from Aaron Pierre. What a guy.
A powerhouse performance from Aaron Pierre. What a guy.
xevan
7.0★ · 08/05/25

at first i was really confused about the timelines of the movie but the further and further i got into the movie it came together and it seamed beautifully, although francis’s death was kinda anticlimactic and poorly scripted the rest of the movie was awesome and the acting was great
at first i was really confused about the timelines of the movie but the further and further i got into the movie it came together and it seamed beautifully, although francis’s death was kinda anticlimactic and poorly scripted the rest of the movie was awesome and the acting was great
picheolin
8.0★ · 07/05/25

this was so well-executed regardless of the cliched themes
this was so well-executed regardless of the cliched themes
ashlyn
7.9★ · 06/25/25

a haunting portrait of grief, responsibility, and the quiet erosion of self.
this isn’t a story about what happened so much as what was carried. michael, the older brother, moves through the world like someone already bracing for impact. he’s not hardened by choice, but by necessity. there’s no space for softness in the version of manhood he’s been handed—especially not in a world that already sees him as dangerous.
what’s most tragic is how little we truly know him. seen through the eyes of his younger brother, he’s mythologized, admired, feared. but beneath the surface is someone unraveling. his strength is a performance, his silence a shield. and when that mask begins to slip, it’s almost too late.
the film is patient, letting emotion simmer until it spills. its power lies in restraint—letting a glance, a gesture, a long pause say what words won’t. brother doesn’t beg for your empathy; it quietly demands your attention. and in doing so, it captures something unbearably human: how easy it is to lose someone before you ever really knew them.
this isn’t a story about what happened so much as what was carried. michael, the older brother, moves through the world like someone already bracing for impact. he’s not hardened by choice, but by necessity. there’s no space for softness in the version of manhood he’s been handed—especially not in a world that already sees him as dangerous.
what’s most tragic is how little we truly know him. seen through the eyes of his younger brother, he’s mythologized, admired, feared. but beneath the surface is someone unraveling. his strength is a performance, his silence a shield. and when that mask begins to slip, it’s almost too late.
the film is patient, letting emotion simmer until it spills. its power lies in restraint—letting a glance, a gesture, a long pause say what words won’t. brother doesn’t beg for your empathy; it quietly demands your attention. and in doing so, it captures something unbearably human: how easy it is to lose someone before you ever really knew them.
a haunting portrait of grief, responsibility, and the quiet erosion of self.
this isn’t a story about what happened so much as what was carried. michael, the older brother, moves through the world like someone already bracing for impact. he’s not hardened by choice, but by necessity. there’s no space for softness in the version of manhood he’s been handed—especially not in a world that already sees him as dangerous.
what’s most tragic is how little we truly know him. seen through the eyes of his younger brother, he’s mythologized, admired, feared. but beneath the surface is someone unraveling. his strength is a performance, his silence a shield. and when that mask begins to slip, it’s almost too late.
the film is patient, letting emotion simmer until it spills. its power lies in restraint—letting a glance, a gesture, a long pause say what words won’t. brother doesn’t beg for your empathy; it quietly demands your attention. and in doing so, it captures something unbearably human: how easy it is to lose someone before you ever really knew them.
this isn’t a story about what happened so much as what was carried. michael, the older brother, moves through the world like someone already bracing for impact. he’s not hardened by choice, but by necessity. there’s no space for softness in the version of manhood he’s been handed—especially not in a world that already sees him as dangerous.
what’s most tragic is how little we truly know him. seen through the eyes of his younger brother, he’s mythologized, admired, feared. but beneath the surface is someone unraveling. his strength is a performance, his silence a shield. and when that mask begins to slip, it’s almost too late.
the film is patient, letting emotion simmer until it spills. its power lies in restraint—letting a glance, a gesture, a long pause say what words won’t. brother doesn’t beg for your empathy; it quietly demands your attention. and in doing so, it captures something unbearably human: how easy it is to lose someone before you ever really knew them.