‘Better Go Mad in the Wild’ Review: Czech Documentary Is the Year’s Best Twin Movie

A remarkable documentary that proves to be the best recent film about twins in what has already been a year full of them, from “The Monkey” to “The Alto Knights,” “Sinners” and the upcoming “Twinless,” Miro Remo’s “Better Go Mad in the Wild” is a great many things. It’s a comprehensive portrait of two identical bearded brothers (the instantly iconic yet lonely duo of Ondřej and František Klišík), an evocative exploration of the remote existence they lead together and, most potently, a mirthful musing about what it is that gives life value.

That it is also a beautifully shot and delicately rich documentary that finds deeper truths about the human condition through, in part, the narration of a wise-talking cow, makes it an exciting discovery all its own.

More from TheWrap

Where to Watch All the ‘Superman’ Movies Before James Gunn’s ‘Superman’

Bill Hader Is Sitting On a Film Script That’s ‘Incredibly Personal,’ Unsentimental: ‘That’s Why It’s Been So Hard to Get It Made’ | Video

7 Best Horror Movies Streaming on Netflix Right Now

The 40 Best Movies on Netflix Right Now

AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R15e4kr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframe AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R25e4kr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframe

The film, which premiered Thursday at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, eschews documentary convention at nearly every turn. Beyond the cow, which is the closest thing that the film has to a talking head, it’s a work that is defined by time slipping away as the brothers bumble about their days. The film is able to slow down and reflect in critical snapshots. It’s about feeling and learning through the humble quotidian rhythms of the Klišíks’ daily lives that accumulate into something more expansive about life itself.

Immersing us in the vast Šumava forests in the Czech Republic, the film makes it difficult to know how much time is passing, be it weeks, months, or even years. While the area where the two sixtysomething brothers live is a beautiful one, the more the days begin to blur together, the more you start to feel a complicated combination of emotions. While there is peace in being cut off from the world, what impact will your unfulfilled desires have? The two brothers have a comfortable familiarity with each other and their world, but it is in constant battle with a quietly agonizing ennui that has calcified into something more relatably strange.

As the film dives head-first into this fascinating tension between tranquility and discontent with the weird quirks that emerge from it, each of the twins has his own way of dealing with the world. Even as you can tell them apart physically (one of them is missing an arm), you also start to understand their different personalities and outlooks. They share plenty of comedic moments, whether it’s naked arm wrestling at their kitchen table or constant bickering, though there’s something more haunting in the way a growing unease surfaces when you least expect it.

Some of the most striking visual moments come from the presence of a large round mirror. Whether it is hanging on the wall or being carried through a forest where it reflects the vast sky above, the mirror feels less like a mere reflection and more like a way of looking at reality with new, more piercing eyes. Remo, working with his excellent co-cinematographer Dušan Husár, creates stunning compositions in these sequences, but also finds beauty in the everyday, more mundane moments as well.

AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R1be4kr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframe AdvertisementAdvertisement#«R2be4kr8lb2m7nfddbH1» iframe

When parts of the twins’ lives begin to come apart, including in a striking sequence where every rhythmic cut brings you in deeper as the brothers tear down a wall, it all becomes quietly yet no less existentially flooring.

This is felt most strongly in the poetic reflections that are read aloud and in the questions the two brothers increasingly have about death. They talk about which one of them will die first, and, while the moment is not without humor, you can already hear pain breaking in their voices. When one of them does pass, the other will then be truly, completely and utterly alone.

No matter how much they needle each other and argue over small disputes, even at one point taking part in a bleakly humorous conversation that becomes more bittersweet about which one of them is Cain and which is Abel, each is also the other’s tether to humanity. We don’t see any other person in the flesh for the entire film, and the thought of one of them no longer being there for the other hangs over all that unfolds in a way that is hard to shake and deeply affecting.

But that is all part of what makes Remo’s film such a humble achievement. “Better Go Mad in the Wild” is transcendent not because of big speeches or underlined ideas, but because of how it lets us sit back and watch two people, both flawed, funny and deeply human, struggle through another day.

The post ‘Better Go Mad in the Wild’ Review: Czech Documentary Is the Year’s Best Twin Movie appeared first on TheWrap.