Henry O'Brien
I first came across comedian Eric André during the 2016 Republican and Democratic Conventions. In the videos, he got kicked out of the RNC for doing jumping jacks in a star-spangled cheerleading outfit, while eventually accosting conspiracy theorist and racist Alex Jones.
The next week, he couldn’t even get inside the DNC, leading him to violently shake on the fence, begging to be let in and having public intercourse with a Hilary Clinton lookalike (or, just a well-dressed blonde woman, the camera doesn’t really show what she looks like aside from her hair).
André’s antics, a part of his Adult Swim gonzo late-night program, The Eric Andre Show, helped him feel like a comedian who felt perfectly in tune with the sheer chaos of the political moment the country was just entering. As 2020 and 2024 came and went, André’s act felt less provocative and more reflective of how plenty of Americans felt.
André can push the envelope of what is expected in comedy in ways that other comedians, particularly those who like to think their anti-woke drivel is somehow valuable, could only dream of.
With this in mind, it should come as no surprise that André made the recent Netflix release, Little Brother, into something worth watching instead of a streaming film that would otherwise earn the mark of “not existing.” André stars as Marcus, a psych ward patient who found a true kinship through a “Big Brother-Little Brother” charity program that paired him with insecure realtor Rudd Landy (John Cena).
The film has all the hallmarks of a low-effort What About Bob? that smells like a paycheck job for both of its leads. But André, even on cruise control, stands out.
It wouldn’t be accurate to call this film raunchy, even as Marcus tries to help out Rudd with his lack of a sex life between him and his wife Deirdre (Michelle Monaghan). Marcus’ suggestions for Rudd feel right at home when André, playing a fictionalized version of himself, interviews people on the streets of New York City.
André also feels game for the sheer amount of physical comedy that is required for the film. Marcus first reaches out to Rudd when he gets hit by a car and he spends much of the movie’s first half in a cast. The gags involving Marcus’ painful injuries feel less forced and more like they come out of a man who loves to make cameos in the Jackass films.
Little Brother falls short for two reasons. First, André doesn’t fully get to unload, as the script from the duo of Jarrad Paul and Andrew Mogel lacks enough jokes that leave an impression. Second, this film is not really an Eric André film, as it focuses on Rudd and his family.
Cena has been known as a wrestler and action/comedy star who knows how to stay in touch with his emotions and reject the toxic masculinity so prevalent in the sport and organization that made him famous.
But his anxiety about his attempt to make it big on a reality TV show to overshadow his uber-wealthy older brother, Josh (Christopher Meloni), doesn’t seem to stem from actual struggle. Additionally, the subplot of Rudd and Deirdre’s sexual relationship never finds a spark, with the supposed “shocking” sex scene being cut away from.
André uses his character to actually convey his personality and the demons he’s attempting to overcome. What makes The Eric Andre Show so brilliant is André’s willingness to show us the darkness and internet-fueled rot inside of his brain. Marcus feels right at home with this type of humor, as he can dramatically shift a conversation with a joke about his many sexual escapades or his darker life experiences.
That’s why I am practically begging anyone in the industry to give André carte blanche to create whatever he wants for the big screen. Now, this would be totally up to him and he has found the perfect form—12-minute-long late-night TV episodes that rely upon the absurd and surreality of our moment.
Giving André the chance to experiment along the lines of Bad Trip mixed with absurdism and a plot that barely feels tied to this earth could give audiences the chance to see cinematic comedy that they have never seen before.
And for that reason alone, Little Brother feels like a plea.
