Brotherhood
A real-life tragic accident turned movie explores themes of masculinity and character among young men
Brotherhood is a new film written and directed by Richard Bell—based on a harrowing true story and forgotten piece of Canadian history.
It is 1926. A group of teenaged boys arrive at
Long Point Camp on sprawling Balsam Lake in Ontario for the ultimate Canadian summer experience: two weeks of games, sports and adventure. The unocial leader of this band of brothers, George Waller, has fled a tumultuous family life and lands at the camp feeling angry and raw. Waller meets Arthur, a new camp leader who’s progressive and amenable, and is reunited with Robert, the camp’s patriarch, stoic and orderly. Robert sees the path to educating and nurturing boys with tactics from the past, while Arthur sees the promise of the future.
Arthur and Robert set o across the lake in a 30foot Indian war canoe with Waller and ten of his companions. When they encounter a freak summer storm and are capsized in the middle of the churning lake, the brotherhood’s holiday descends into a soul-shuddering fight for survival.
Will Waller and Arthur and the remaining crew survive the night? Can Waller rally his brothers to hang on until sunrise, and inspire them to live and die for each other? Will they discover what real camaraderie and true brotherhood is all about? Brotherhood will be released in November by levelfilm.
As a writer and director, I’m fascinated by masculinity, stories of boys and men, and the relationships between brothers, comrades, fathers and sons. I’ve explored this theme in all my works, from my first little movie, Two Brothers, to Eighteen, to now. Maybe it’s because I grew up as the middle child in a cluster of three brothers. Maybe it’s because I’m gay, which made me do a lot of soul-searching when I was a teen. It might even be because I’m estranged from my dad; we haven’t spoken since I made Two Brothers because he disapproved of the depiction of the father as being physically abusive, even though the character was only mentioned, never seen in the film. That led to an argument—20 years ago.
So, the male condition, that is, what it means to be a man, a good man, consumes me. I have no significant other and the prospect of children is unlikely. But I always
wonder, how can I be a good son, brother, uncle, grandson and friend?
I discovered the true story about the Brotherhood of St. Andrew in a Toronto newspaper during the 80th anniversary of the tragedy. There was a small mass for the boys at a tiny Ontarian church in Kirkfield to commemorate the occasion. I felt like I had found a map to a far-flung treasure, and as I quested through the story, I discovered the themes of character and masculinity in its very warp and weft.
I drove up to Balsam Lake and dangled my feet in the water of Long Point, now dotted with cottages—their owners oblivious to the ghosts shooting marbles, chasing butterflies and playing tug-o’-war. I went out on a speedboat and approximated the spot where the boys met their quiet end. This was something the cast of the movie and I later did again, for the 93rd anniversary. I also found the Brotherhood’s shared grave at St. James Cemetery, o Parliament Street in Toronto. No one knows they’re there; I hope they will soon.
After a couple drafts were written, I started pitching it to producers. Almost all of them had the same feedback: How was what’s essentially a newspaper headline from 1926 relevant in the modern day? I went on a writing retreat to Rivendell on Bowen Island, B.C., craving inspiration in that serene place. I walked in the woods and toasted myself in front of a cozy fire. I was on my laptop, clickety-clacking away in the dining room, when I had my sparkly “Eureka” moment. I came across literature on the “Boy Crisis,” and the themes for the movie began to crystallize.
First o, what is the “Boy Crisis?” According to the book Real Boys: Rescuing Our Sons from the Myths of Boyhood by William S. Pollack, the state of boyhood is in distress. Listless, anti-social and distracted, it seems boys today are more concerned with getting to the next level of their video games than adventuring outside to the monkey bars, the swimming holes or to forage for snakes. Who’s got time for a paper route in a Playstation culture?
Too much “screen time” is an obvious culprit, but I think another theory could be the lack of male role models. Pollack notes the following sound bite from the movie, Fight Club, director David Fincher’s rumination on manhood, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk, who wrote: “We’re a generation of men raised by women...” And while there’s nothing wrong with that—as I
saw my own mother and grandmother raise my brother, who’s 11 years my junior and probably the most well-adjusted member of our family—i still became fascinated by this statement.
Further study revealed that teenaged boys of the 1920s were in a similar stead. Their fathers didn’t return home from the Great War, or if they did, they were shells of the men they once were.
In the early 20th century, many authority figures, from parents to teachers, priests and even politicians, were concerned with the state of boyhood, too. What boys needed, the “experts” determined, was time outdoors, rubbing elbows with one another and learning from male role models. Boys needed— and actually craved, wittingly or not—rites of passage. Soon we saw the start of the Boy Scouts, the modern-day Olympics and leadership camps spring up across North America, just like our Brotherhood of St. Andrew.
But the male story predates modern studies and clinical language. To go even deeper, I read and re-read Iron John: A Book About Men by Robert Bly, which explores what it is to be a man through ancient stories and legends. This shaped the character of Robert Butcher, who even in real life sought to be a knight to his squires. Finally, I read Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv. It examines how vital it is that boys spend time in nature, challenged by the elements, as lethal as they may sometimes be.
When I combined these themes, what my research unmasked about masculinity, and the account of what happened that night (chronicled in newspapers, astonishingly, all over the world), I had my story. Comparing and contrasting the experience of boyhood and manhood then with now, I trust, will make Brotherhood meaningful to audiences in movie theatres. Having the echo of the Great War—a major conflict, so a part Canada’s own coming-of-age— in practically every scene gives the movie added potency.
Brotherhood is a story about adventure and survival, about sacrifice and heroism. But these days, as it goes out into the world, either to be heralded or criticized or both, I mostly like to think it’s a film about character, about what those boys did, long ago, when no one was looking.
A few years ago, I was watching the Oscars. There was a pre-filmed section where celebrities addressed the camera and yammered on about the magic of movies, appropriately dewy-eyed. Then the big, intangible, impossible question was presented: What makes a good movie? And Brad Pitt answered, “When you see those moments of dignity, someone handle a situation better than you would, that shows you an example of nobility.”
That’s Brotherhood. That is the movie I hope I made for you.