MIFF Closing Night: Duplass double

There weren't actually two films at this year's Melbourne International Film Festival featuring a Duplass brother, Jay or Mark, in front of or behind the camera. If a film festival always benefits from one Duplass movie, two can only be better, right?

But I did follow up the MIFF Closing Night film, Language Lessons, which featured a Duplass in front of the camera, with a Duplass favorite I'd seen only once, Cyrus, which has both of them behind the camera.

There's something a little special about a Closing Night film -- that phrase doesn't look right either lower or upper case -- that distinguishes it from the others. My 12th and final film of this year's MIFF only became available at 7 p.m. on Saturday night, and only for something like an eight-hour period, differentiating it from the other streaming films, which were available for the duration. (With the exception of the Opening Night film, CODA, which I did not see, which was only available for an eight-hour window that night.)

So in order to make it a little more special, my wife and I ordered Mexican from our favorite local Mexican restaurant, margaritas included. 

When we planned that food option we didn't realize how appropriate it would be. Language Lessons, a two-hander starring Mark Duplass and Natalie Morales (who is also director), has to do with an American living in Oakland trying to brush up on his Spanish via video chat Spanish lessons with a woman living in Costa Rica. I suppose if she had been in Mexico that would have been a better match, but the language is shared between the two locations and that's good enough for me. 

Two other reasons the film was an appropriate way to finish this year's MIFF:

1. It was yet another film where the language of the film proved to be a surprise. Since I knew it was starring Mark Duplass, I could only assume that the film would be in English. As it turns out, at least half of the dialogue is in Spanish, as the two characters try to speak Spanish as much as possible in keeping with Duplass' character's intended immersion in the language. So you could say it was yet another film that I thought would be in English that ended up being primarily in another language. At least in this case I mostly understood the language due to my own immersion in the culture of a city where it is widely spoken (Los Angeles), and half of it was being spoken by a guy where it was not his first language, as I myself would speak it if I tried. (But much better than I could speak it, as I can understand Spanish better than I can produce the words spontaneously in conversation.)

2. It was a film made during the pandemic, about two people talking to each other over screens. Duplass himself gave us that history with a little video intro, in which he bemoaned that he couldn't be there in person (that would have been fun) but that it was thematically appropriate that his greeting to us would have to be in this format. Indeed, seeing this movie in a cinema would probably be the weirder thing, given how it was created and what we've been through the past 18 months, as exemplified by this very festival, which had to scuttle its theatrical screenings in favor of online only. 

Really liked the film. When I realized it was another film that was going to unfurl over Zoom, I got a little wary, as I'd already seen plenty of those in recent years as a kind of narrative stunt, even before the pandemic made it a somewhat necessary fallback option. But it's an extremely effective use of the format, not for reasons of "cleverness," but to show the sort of intimacy that can develop between two people through a computer screen.

And it's not that sort of "intimacy" either. Duplass' character is gay, which ruled out that sort of shipping from the start. In fact, we are just shipping for the friendship, which initially thrives on its obvious compatibility, and the fact that they both can be there for the other in difficult times. Of course there are threats to that -- the income inequality between the two being one -- otherwise there would be no conflict. But it ends up being one of those films with real heart and a real perceptiveness about human beings. Kind of like every other film Mark Duplass has ever been involved in.

I considered another Duplass two-hander that I haven't seen, Blue Jay, as the second half of my double feature when I couldn't scare up Cyrus in any of the obvious locations. But then I looked in a non-obvious location, and you know what? Cyrus is streaming on Disney+. That service just keeps on surprising me with its catalogue.

Cyrus was a favorite of mine in 2010 when it finished in my top ten of the year at #9. For reasons I can't really fathom, I've never gotten back to it for a second viewing. So when I decided a Duplass movie would be a good way to keep the evening's vibe going, this one immediately jumped to mind.

Still love it. The cast is great of course -- John C. Reilly, Marisa Tomei, Jonah Hill, Catherine Keener -- but I had worried that Hill's role in the movie might seem too over-the-top to me today. Hardly. There's a touch of post-Step Brothers in the relationship between Reilly and Hill, but it's like the Duplass version of Step Brothers, where everything is life-sized and the ways the characters sabotage each other are subtle. Plus, like all Duplass movies, tons of heart in the end.

Okay, that's a wrap on MIFF 69. Maybe things will be back to "normal" with MIFF 70 a year from now.  

Are the Duplass brothers the Wilson brothers?

Lynn Shelton is back.

That's not what this post is about, but I'm going to lead with it.

Shelton made two of my favorite independent (comedic?) dramas of the 21st century in Humpday and Your Sister's Sister, but then she followed those up with the disappointing duo of Touchy Feely and Laggies. I lost confidence in her, and even wrote about that in this post.

Her follow-up to Laggies, Outside In, went pretty much straight to Netflix, as far as I can tell. (IMDB touts a limited release back in March, but Netflix also calls this an original film, so I don't know). That's not the indictment of a film it may have been two years ago, more a reality of where small films by people like Lynn Shelton sit in today's cinematic landscape.

But boy am I glad it was made available for me to get so easily, because given her recent track record, I might not have taken pains to seek it out. And I loved it. It's immediately near the top of my rankings for this year, 40 movies in to my 2018 viewings.

I won't go on too long about Outside In in particular, since I told you I'm here for a different reason today. But I did want to say that Shelton has gotten back the touch that eluded her (ironically, in a movie called Touchy Feely) and then some, and that Edie Falco would be worthy of award consideration if this movie had any chance of breaking through to the general consciousness. She's incredible.

It's not Falco I want to talk about today, but her co-star. And then his brother.

I don't think of myself as liking Jay Duplass very much, in general but especially as an alternative to his brother Mark. Jay has been much more likely to appear on screen than Mark lately, though it used to be the reverse. I've thought of this as a change for the worse. Part of that has to do with the roles he's chosen; my introduction to him was, I believe, Transparent, where I didn't like any of the three children of Jeffrey Tambor's transgender parent. (Not knowing, at the time, that Tambor as a person was the one I should not like.) He's been mostly fine in the subsequent films I've seen him in, but he was never the best part of the movie, and I was alternately fond (Beatriz at Dinner) and not as fond (Manson Family Vacation) of those movies.

Outside In is the type of movie that can turn you around on an actor, and I believe it's actually turning me around on two of them: not only Duplass, but Kaitlyn Dever, whom I did not like in Short Term 12 and have never really come around on. (Falco, in case you're wondering, I always liked.) Duplass gives a very good performance in and of itself, but that isn't necessarily the reason I realized I should be inclined to like him. That reason is that he's got a bit of a Luke Wilson thing going on, and I really like Luke Wilson.

Can you see it? Here, why I don't I offer you some photographic evidence.

They're not twins, but I defy you to tell me you don't see the similarity. But it isn't a physical similarity that really made me decide they resembled one another. Duplass delivers a couple lines in this movie in a way that I can exactly see Wilson delivering them. It's also a bit of a Wilson role, as Wilson has tended to take more roles in independent films than his own more famous brother, who we'll get to in a minute. This is very much a Henry Pool is Here type role, if not in terms of the similarity of the actual characters (an ex-con who was falsely imprisoned re-integrating with society, vs. a man living out his remaining days before a terminal illness claims him) then in terms of the movies and their aims. Both involve a man who had written himself off trying to learn to live again.

They're also more contemporaries than you might think -- it just took Duplass longer to become famous. You'd think Duplass would be significantly younger than Wilson, but the age difference is only 18 months. In terms of their own dynamics with their brothers, they are both the more traditionally handsome of the pair, and both took longer to break out after their brothers were kind of instant successes. Though I was surprised to learn that Jay is actually the older Duplass, while knowing that Luke was the younger Wilson.

So let's get to those brothers, then. The similarity does not end with Jay and Luke.

Mark and Owen are both the more openly charismatic brother, who both have more distinctive noses, and who both were a more obvious immediate fit as movie stars, though that would probably be a term that would rankle Mark. They are also more likely than their brothers to have messy cowlicks and shaggy, shoulder length hair. They are less like twins than Jay and Luke, but they too have interesting physical similarities, making it more genuinely legitimate to compare the two sets of brothers than a huge stretch.

I'd say Mark and Owen's acting styles are less similar than those of Jay and Luke, as Owen is much more willing to go big and Mark tends to be a consummately realistic actor. (Though it should be noted he does play a serial killer in the Creep movies.) Still, both had their origins in smaller, more eccentric movies. Don't forget that the first time you saw Wilson -- or at least the first time I saw Wilson, though you might be more likely to forget that -- was in Wes Anderson's Bottle Rocket. (Actually, that might have been my first time for both Wilsons.)

I suppose there might be a grand unifying theory of successful brothers somewhere in here. If you are brothers gaining fame concurrently, it likely helps to offer something distinctly different to one another. I could try to think of other examples of brothers who attempted to become famous, but were just too similar, and of course that's difficult to do since it's much harder to demonstrate something's absence than its presence. But just as an extreme example of that, how many identical twins are famous actors in Hollywood? Not many, possibly not any. They'd be more likely to work in niche situations where you needed characters who were identical twins than to break out as distinctive actors with their own careers. And you don't really need that anymore, either, when you can make digital twins out of anyone.

The next step would be to look at other sets of brothers and see if they also conform to the Duplass-Wilson model, but, not today.

Disregarding alphabetization

I'm anal retentive to a fault.

I love lists, and I love alphabetizing those lists. And I've developed very clear ideas of how to alphabetize, when an instance of ambiguous alphabetization arises. Little is left to randomness and none to chance.

However, there's one thing that comes along to throw the whole thing off:

How two names sound when credited next to each other.

If am going to list two directors, the rule I follow is that the one whose name comes closest to the beginning of the alphabet -- last name if they have different ones, first name if they don't -- goes first.

Except, of course, when I don't follow it.

Take the most prominent example, and the one that gave me the idea for this post when I was making up another one of my big movie lists recently: the Coen brothers. The correct way to list their names should be as Ethan and Joel Coen. That's often how you see their names in print nowadays. But I can't do it. These guys are, and have always been, Joel and Ethan Coen.

The brothers Farrelly have the same problem. They have never been Bobby and Peter Farrelly. They are, and should be, Peter and Bobby Farrelly, for a simple reason that's impossible to support with any type of objective evidence: the names just sound better that way.

Could it ever be Caro et Jeunet? No. It could only be Jeunet et Caro.

I do find it problematic, though. It offends my sense of order on some level. Yet I can't go inviting chaos by referring to them as "Ethan and Joel Coen." That's not who they are. They are Joel and Ethan, and that's who they have always been.

Joel must have won a coin toss back in the day, which led them originally to spurn the alphabet and ask for their names to be credited in this precise order. The rest is history, and I'm not going to overturn that history just because I'm anal retentive.

It's interesting, however, how often alphabetical order has been disregarded by these teams of director partners. The Wachowskis are Larry (now Lana) and Andy. The Hughes are Allen and Albert. (Aren't they? I think they are.) Those who go in the correct order (Jay and Mark Duplass, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger) seem comparatively fewer.

Then there are of course those where the comparative prominence of the directors dictates the order. Evan Goldberg is never going to jump ahead of Seth Rogen, even though both of Evan's names comes earlier in the alphabet than either of Seth's. And are you more likely to be interested to know that Nick Park directed Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, or Steve Box?

Was this something worth writing about? Who knows.

... and a Duplass new year

Last year on New Year's Day, we watched movies according to an inadvertent theme: Step Brothers and Forgetting Sarah Marshall, our two favorite comedies from 2008 that both happened to be movies I was seeing for the fourth time. (We'll ignore the fact that we closed the day with probably the worst comedy of 2011, The Hangover Part II.)

This year's theme was no more advertent, but it was more objective. This year, we watched Mark Duplass movies.

We probably could have seen this coming for a couple days if we'd looked. We'd postponed watching The Do-Deca-Pentathlon, which Duplass directed with his brother Jay and which had been a candidate for last Friday night's viewing, when we decided that its 76-minute length made it perfect for one of our son's naps. And since I may be working both days this weekend, yesterday could have been our last nap before I need to finalize my list next Thursday. In fact, it ended up being more than perfect -- not only did we watch the whole movie, but I got in an hour nap before my son awoke from his. Score.

We didn't discuss our second viewing, Your Sister's Sister, until right before we popped it in. Duplass only acts in this one, though I wouldn't be surprised if he had plenty of informal roles advising director Lynn Shelton since they are both founding parents of the mumblecore movement. Since it was the only disc I had at home from Netflix and there's a premium placed on turning around movies quickly this time of year, I was rooting for that choice, and my wife jumped at it.

And since Duplass appeared in the last movie she'd seen before that, Zero Dark Thirty, that made three straight Duplass movies for my wife. Crazy person that I am, I squeezed in two non-Duplass movies on the 31st (Sparkle and Amour) that she did not see.

I'd love to tell you what I thought of these movies, but remember: cone of silence.

So instead let me take this opportunity to praise an unusual part of the Duplass brothers' movie-making technique that pays untold dividends in the final film.

It was probably in conjunction with the release of Jeff, Who Lives at Home that I heard Mark Duplass being interviewed. (Mark seems to do pretty much all the public stuff -- in fact, I don't even know what Jay looks like.) In that interview, Mark talked about an approach they favor that would not be possible on a larger film with a bigger budget and more locations. With the films they make, though, they can afford to do it: film the scenes in the same order as they appear in the script.

There are all kinds of reasons this is not possible with most movies. The process of making movies is so dependent on maximizing your opportunities to get your cast in place according to their schedules, or shoot at a particular location when it's available, that there's almost no way you can film the scenes in sequence. In fact, I doubt that this is even something filmmakers subconsciously shoot for. Logistics are first and foremost, and it's probably not that unusual to shoot the last scene of the film first.

The sequence the scenes are shot shouldn't matter one iota to the audience, because they will be edited together in the correct order. Yet I think on some level, the sequence does matter to the audience -- because on some level it matters to the actors.

Even though these guys are professionals (though that's not necessarily the case with mumblecore movies), I think an actor can't help but have a slightly better grasp on his/her character's emotional state if he/she has already acted out the scenes that brought his/her character to this point in the story. And I think this is why almost every Duplass movie I've seen has a satisfying emotional payoff in the final five or ten minutes. Consistent with these movies' naturalism, the actors themselves have lived in these characters' shoes. When they have the big final reconciliation, or whatever occurs in the final act, the actors have already experienced the arguments (there's always an argument) that have gotten them to this point. They don't need to ask what their character's motivation is -- they've lived through it.

It only stands to reason that an actor who shoots the film's climax first has to do a lot more work to get him/herself into that character's head space. Even if the actor has read the script five or six times, he/she can't help but be at some kind of disadvantage over actors who have already done the emotional processing of those scenes in front of the camera.

This unusual though completely understandable technique also has the benefit of the Duplass brothers already working through script problems that may come up in earlier scenes. If something just isn't working and they have to change it up -- this interview also revealed that the brothers will just wander off together to discuss a scene, leaving the cast and crew waiting for them to return -- those changes will already be incorporated before they have to shoot the finale. There'll be no going back to reshoot or make adjustments based on problems that came up along the way.

What's funny is that this seemingly revolutionary method may have been born out of sheer laziness, a sheer unwillingness to conform to the hard conventions of making movies. Clearly, the "harder" thing to do is to shoot a movie out of sequence. It involves juggling all sorts of logistics based on availability and schedules, and is perhaps a skill that's better suited to an efficiency expert than a creative talent like a writer or director. And indeed, I'm quite sure that someone other than the director handles this on most films, though I couldn't tell you exactly who (the producer or someone on the producer's team, most likely). With the Duplasses, who have a huge amount of creative control, they may have just said "Eff that. That's not how we can understand this process or thrive within it." And it may have just been because the other way seemed "too hard."

But the proof is in the pudding. When a Duplass character experiences his/her third-act catharsis -- a catharsis that always has plenty of heart -- I always buy it, and I always find that it's coming from somewhere. Now I know where.

It also helps that the Duplasses have a knack for casting actors (such as mumblecore regular Steve Zissis, who starred in The Do-Deca Pentathlon) who have an innate understanding of the human condition. Remember, adding to the amazing work these actors are doing is the fact that they are frequently improvising their dialogue. You can only improvise dialogue if you truly understand a character and what he/she would do in any situation. Another benefit of already having "lived their lives" chronologically.

And now that I believe I've seen every 2012 project that involved Mark Duplass, I'll tackle the remaining field of non-Duplass movies. Just eight more days before I close my 2012 list.

Ha, IMDB tells me that I haven't seen two Duplass movies from 2012, Darling Companion and People Like Us. That's with already seeing the other movie he directed (Jeff, Who Lives at Home) and the other one he starred in (Safety Not Guaranteed). That's in addition to his regular work on the TV show The League, which we also watch.

If he keeps up this busy pace, then 2013 really will be a Duplass New Year.

Those Duplass brothers make movies with heart

Jeff, Who Lives at Home opens with Jason Segel talking into a tape recorder.

At first, you think it's supposed to mean that Segel's character, Jeff, is an idiot. He's talking about the M. Night Shyamalan movie Signs. Particularly about the perfect synergy of coincidences in its final scene -- you know, the scene where Joaquin Phoenix uses a baseball bat to smash a bunch of unfinished glasses of water, thereby killing a bunch of aliens. Sorry if I just ruined Signs for you.

The most obvious and snarkiest way to play this scene is to use Jeff's love for the movie Signs -- which he admits to watching at least a half-dozen times -- as proof that he is someone to pity or laugh at. (Never mind that I'm with Jeff, not to the extent that he is, and notwithstanding that last scene in particular.)

But if you think Jay and Mark Duplass would go that way, you don't know Jay and Mark Duplass.

They love their character Jeff, and they love that he loves Signs. In fact, I'm not even sure they disagree with him. Maybe they love Signs too.

In both of their last two films, the previous being Cyrus, the Duplass brothers have managed a pretty nifty balancing act. They are adhering to the modern-day Apatow-infused comedy sensibilities enough to provide good material for the trailers, but secretly taking the movie itself in their own direction, one with an unexpected amount of heart. (This is not to imply that Apatow's movies don't have heart, but they don't have the raw, genuine, unfiltered heart that Duplass movies do.)

The Signs bit is a good example. If any part of that bit appeared in the trailer, though I believe it does not, it would be used to demonstrate that Jeff is a geek or a loser -- not very cool, someone who loves a director as played out as M. Night Shyamalan. In fact, you could take that one step further and say that the entire title Jeff, Who Lives at Home is intended to give you this impression, that Jeff is a man child who has never matured, who loves getting stoned and watching movies appreciated by geeks in his mother's basement.

Some of this is true. But the reasons he's never matured are not part of the realm of comedy. And Jeff's home? He's barely there at all.

I love this about the Duplass brothers, that they are kind of baiting and switching us for our own benefit. Cyrus did not play like many people thought it would play, as kind of a Step Brothers lite. (Though I might not have minded that, because I love Step Brothers.) Many people surely thought that John C. Reilly and Jonah Hill would spend the running time of Cyrus playing cruel pranks on each other in their desperate attempts to win Marisa Tomei's love. That stuff is in play, but not nearly to the extent you'd think it would be. And the supposed big set piece, in which Reilly and Hill come out the door of a wedding reception fighting, is a deadly serious, tragic moment -- as it would be in real life.

Mixing tragedy in with their comedy is what earns the Duplass brothers their heart. And without these difficult moments of real pain, the heart that fills the stretch run of Cyrus wouldn't be so satisfying. But don't be confused -- when I say "heart," I don't mean "shmaltz." I mean a genuine affection for the characters and a genuine, honest approach to a truly satisfying catharsis.

I won't say if Jeff, Who Lives at Home ends that way, because it just came out and you should see it. However, you can guess from my tone that I'm very satisfied with how it ends -- and with the movie in general.

And if something about the structure of this movie ends up resembling a little M. Night Shyamalan movie about aliens allergic to water, it's all the more proof of the Duplass brothers' refreshing disdain for cynicism.

Toys, Duplasses: Make me smile

I'm pretty glum today.

You probably know by now that I've been heavily invested in the basketball playoffs, and last night, that heavy investment ended in heartache: My Boston Celtics lost a 13-point third quarter lead, and the NBA Finals, to the hated Los Angeles Lakers. Who, unfortunately, reside in the same city as I do, meaning their fans are all around me. At least my neighborhood last night was relatively quiet -- just a few fireworks. No cars were burned or newsstands upended.

Strangely, I slept better after last night's Game 7 than I did after Game 6. I guess the brain has no choice but to reach some state of resolution after the series is over. No unknowns left to fear, anyway -- no worst possible outcomes still lying ahead. The only unknowns now are which players and coaches will be back, but that won't take shape for another couple weeks, at which point I'll have some much-needed distance from it.

So yeah, I'm glum. Even though I went with my wife to her doctor's appointment, and got a really cute picture of my 28-week-old baby in her stomach, I'm still a bit glum. It'll take some time.

So, Toy Story 3 and Cyrus couldn't come along soon enough. I need to laugh this weekend.

Everyone knows that Toy Story 3 is coming out today. The only reason we probably haven't seen more ads on TV is this: Not only is it Pixar, but it's a Toy Story movie. For both reasons, it sells itself.

But Cyrus is the one we will probably actually see this weekend. It won't be as laugh-out-loud funny as Toy Story 3 has the potential to be, though I should say, you go to a Toy Story movie more to smile than to laugh. Or maybe what I really should say is, Cyrus could be laugh-out-loud funny, but the laughter will be laced with bitterness, and almost certainly at someone's expense. Light, kid-friendly laughter seems like it would be more healing than awkward, cringe-worthy, you're-banging-my-mother laughter.

Then again, I'll take either in a pinch.

For those of you who haven't heard of Cyrus, it's the latest and most mainstream film from writer-directors Mark and Jay Duplass, the former of whom is also an actor, appearing in such films as Humpday and Greenberg. They're two of the biggest names in the mumblecore movement, known for such films as The Puffy Chair and Baghead. What's mumblecore? It's a movement of films using mostly non-professional actors and heavily improvised scripts, which has almost a documentary-style sense of heightened realism. (If those non-professional actors can act worth a damn, that is -- and they usually can.) The movement is starting to encroach into the mainstream more and more, as both Mark Duplass and Baghead's Greta Gerwig appeared in Greenberg. I'm excited to see what Mark and Jay can do with a Judd Apatow-style comedy with four major stars: John C. Reilly as a divorced man still pining after his ex; Catherine Keener as that ex; Marisa Tomei as the new woman he meets; and Jonah Hill as that woman's grown, overprotective son. The naturalism the Duplasses aspire to seems on display in the ads, and though I'm sure there promises to be plenty of broad comedy, I bet it will arise organically from the circumstances.

As for Toy Story 3 ... well, what can I say that hasn't been said? The first two movies are among my top 50 movies of all time, so Toy Story 3 has some pretty big shoes to fill. At first I was unsure if it could do so. The first images I saw of the movie gave me a "more of the same" vibe, the kind of vibe I might get a lot sooner if I saw another movie starring Wall-E or the rat from Ratatouille. But as time has gone on and I've admired the larger-than life outdoor advertisements they've been hanging around town (such as the one you see above), I feel more and more sure that any time spent with the Toy Story gang will be a good time.

And there you have it. The corner of my mouth went up a little bit just thinking about it.

Credibility in brotherhood

There's something about hearing that two brothers are making a movie that seems to give it an extra boost of credibility.

I'm not sure why that is -- two heads are better than one?

But the latest example is The Square, a thriller directed by Nash Edgerton, written by and co-starring Joel Edgerton. My wife and I saw it yesterday. And if the quality of the Australian duo's first feature is any indication, perhaps "the Edgerton brothers" is a phrase we're going to have to get used to, just like "the Coen brothers" or "the Wachowski brothers."

What is it about teams of brothers that makes them get into making films together? It seems to be a unique creative partnership born out of the imaginary battles and adventures that played out in the backyards of their youth. I say "unique" because you don't really see other teams of family members making films, do you? There are no father-son partnerships. There are no brother-sister partnerships. There are no sister-sister partnerships. There are no mother-daughter partnerships. There are no uncle-second cousin once removed partnerships. Just brothers.

And there are numerous examples. Forthwith:

1) Joel & Ethan Coen. The most famous set of directing brothers has made 15 films together, most of which received great critical acclaim, and one of which (No Country for Old Men) won best picture. Depending on the film, they were either both credited for directing, or one was credited for directing and one for writing, or one credited for directing and both for writing, etc. (Actually, all the movies were listed as directed by Joel prior to The Ladykillers in 2004). There are obviously parallels between the Edgertons and the Coens, as The Square is a tightly crafted little thriller of downward-spiraling consequences, very much like the Coens' debut, Blood Simple. However, I feel quite certain that the reason many people are comparing The Square to Blood Simple is the fact that a team of brothers made both films. Fun fact: Joel is married to actress Frances McDormand. Best film: Raising Arizona. Worst film: Burn After Reading.

2) Peter & Bobby Farrelly. The Rhode Island comedy-directing duo took the world by storm with Dumb and Dumber in 1994, and have steadily been getting worse since then. They have been inseparable from the standpoint of their credits, each appearing alongside the other for all their writing, directing and producing gigs. Fun fact: They love casting Boston-area sports stars in their movies. Best film: Dumb and Dumber. Worst film: Fever Pitch.

3) Larry & Andy Wachowski. The Matrix made this pair household names; the sequels to The Matrix seriously called into question their narrative instincts. However, there's no doubt that they have a specific cinematic vision, which they've explored through projects they've directed as well as projects they've produced. Always credited alongside one another. Fun fact: Larry now lives as a woman named Lana. For the purposes of this post, I'll still consider him to be a brother rather than a sister. Best film: Bound. Worst film: The Matrix Revolutions.

4) Allen & Albert Hughes. No directing team in this post is as diverse as the Hughes brothers, who have done everything from a documentary about pimps (American Pimp) to a movie about inner-city gang violence (Menace II Society) to a period piece about Jack the Ripper (From Hell) to a post-apocalyptic action movie (The Book of Eli). What's interesting about this pair is that they have not let their status as African-American directors dictate the subject matter they've pursued. They are jointly credited on everything. Fun fact: They're twins. Best film: From Hell. Worst film: Dead Presidents (though I haven't yet seen The Book of Eli, which I understand could be a contender here).

5) Mark & Jay Duplass. These brothers have not yet reached the level of fame of the others on this list, but they are kings of the mumblecore world. Unfamiliar with the term "mumblecore"? It's a movement of films in which non-professional actors improvise their dialogue (for the most part) in search of a kind of hyperrealism, and the films are frequently about generally mundane occurrences. If done well, though, mumblecore films can be totally engrossing. Mark is always listed as a writer, sometimes listed as a director, and usually appears in the films; Jay is always the director, always the writer, but is not an actor. Fun fact: "Non-professional" actor Mark has started turning up in others' projects as well, including Greenberg (which also features mumblecore actress Greta Gerwig) and the TV show The League. Best film: The Puffy Chair. Worst film: Baghead. These are actually their only two films that I've seen. If I had to list the best film influenced by the Duplasses and starring Mark, it would be Lynn Shelton's Humpday.

That's all I can think of, but that's probably enough.

Sure, there are other teams that have worked together despite not being related. Right now, you've got Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor, who directed the Crank movies (and the unfortunate Gamer). Back in the 40's and 50's, it was Gene Kelly and Stanley Donan, with Singin' in the Rain among others.

But perhaps the brother partnerships have endured and ultimately been more successful for a simple reason: They're cut from the same cloth, and are less likely to have the creative differences that might push them apart. What's more, it's probably easier to share a credit with a family member. It speaks well of your whole clan. Whereas if you're sharing it with just some other dude, perhaps there's more of a competitive drive to prove that you're the one doing all the hard work, that you're the real talent while the other guy is just riding your coattails. Paradoxically, you'd think that impulse might be even stronger among siblings -- but it hasn't worked out that way for the partnerships discussed here.

We'll see what path the Edgertons take. I'm just glad to see Joel Edgerton prove to me he's more than the forgettable wimp who had the lead in the film Kinky Boots. He's plenty memorable here as a petty criminal in over his head, as is his brother Nash, a first-time director who has his head above water just fine, thank you very much.