The first two episodes of Brothers debut on Apple TV on September 23. Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson, actors whose collaboration on True Detective's first season was a critical success, return to screen together in Apple TV+'s new series, Brothers. While their real-life friendship is a notable aspect, the show struggles to capitalize on this connection, leading to a misguided endeavor.
In Brothers, McConaughey and Harrelson portray themselves. The series begins with Woody Harrelson and his family visiting Matthew McConaughey and his family in Texas. The central premise, inspired by a real-life possibility theorized by the actors, is that Woody discovers he and Matthew might be biological half-brothers, a notion introduced by Matthew's mother, played by Holland Taylor.
Despite the potential for a genuinely funny and clever exploration of this premise, particularly in the vein of shows where celebrities play skewed versions of themselves, Brothers feels thin. It fails to fully embrace its unique setup, neglecting to explore how the news might alter the actors' existing friendship. Instead, Woody keeps the potential revelation secret from Matthew, relegating his search for the truth to a background subplot. The primary ongoing storyline focuses on Matthew's decision to run for Governor of Texas and his request for Woody's assistance with his campaign, a narrative thread that lacks compelling drive.
Co-created by McConaughey and Harrelson alongside accomplished writers David West Read and Lee Eisenberg, with Eisenberg serving as showrunner, Brothers nonetheless feels like a struggle. The series appears unsure of its identity, leading to odd tonal shifts and a palpable sense that its creators grappled with defining the show's direction throughout its eight episodes.
Initially, McConaughey is positioned as the straight man to Harrelson's more chaotic persona, a dynamic that sets up humorous situations. While the actors' fame is acknowledged, it doesn't dominate their characters' portrayal. However, midway through the season, a noticeable shift occurs: both are depicted as equally oblivious celebrities, unaware that their non-acting accomplishments are largely a product of their existing fame.
There is a certain charm in seeing McConaughey and Harrelson interact in the early episodes, but this appeal wanes as the show becomes sillier. Plotlines include the pair donning disguises to perform at a coffeehouse or a tired sitcom trope involving forgotten Valentine's Day gifts for their wives. While the actors effectively play fictionalized versions of themselves and demonstrate good chemistry, this dynamic is rarely explored in an interesting way. McConaughey, playing a relatively straitlaced fictional version of himself, delivers a strong performance in the early episodes, particularly in his character's introspection about his late father.
The series also introduces fictionalized wives, children, and parents for the two stars, a concept that has proven successful in other shows. However, in Brothers, this approach feels unmoored due to the show's lack of a strong point of view. The frequent mentions of Woody's father, vaguely described as a jailbird, bring to mind the real-life dark and violent crimes of Charles Harrelson, a complex subject the series largely skirts. Brothers consistently opts for the safest narrative routes, only occasionally providing enough entertainment to compensate for its timidity.
Ultimately, while McConaughey and Harrelson clearly enjoy each other's company, Brothers fails to fully utilize its charismatic stars or their pop culture history. Despite name-dropping and referencing elements from their past work and public personas for easy amusement, the show struggles to maintain a consistent tone or a satisfying angle on its central characters and their dynamic, resulting in a viewing experience that is more amusing than truly engaging.