The projects that actors choose to make when they step behind the camera for the first time may be reflective of the roles they’ve tended to play or feel like something entirely separate. More than six decades after his acting start in theater, Brian Cox makes his directorial debut with Glenrothan, an extremely light comedy-drama that feels as far away as possible from some of his more notable characters like Hannibal Lecter and Logan Roy. This celebration of Scotland and of complicated family dynamics is hardly deep or resounding, but it makes for a pleasant if forgettable watch.
Sandy (Brian Cox) runs the family distillery in Glenrothan, Scotland, and he writes to his brother Donal (Alan Cumming) to tell him that his health is worsening and it would be nice to see him after a forty-year absence. When his Chicago club burns down, Donal reluctantly agrees to accompany his daughter Amy (Alexandra Shipp) and granddaughter on their annual trip to see Sandy. Things aren’t much different than they were when Donal left, save of course for his father no longer being around, and he’s gradually reminded of the reasons why he left as Sandy tries to reconnect with him, encountering resistance at every turn.
The premise of this film is a bit lacking, with Sandy sending Donal a letter to invite him back home when he regularly communicates with Amy and has seen her consistently over the years. Choosing not to pass that information through her gives it a more whimsical, long-in-the-making feel, but when Donal does finally show up, he’s determined to remain sour about everything and not give this place he long ago abandoned a chance. It’s a setup that should be sentimental but ends up feeling more overwrought and somewhat cartoonish. Surely one honest conversation would resolve almost everything, but instead audiences have to endure repeated flashback sequences meant to jog long-suppressed memories of the misery that caused Donal to leave.
It’s a bit jarring to see this as Cox’s first time directing, though there’s some comfort to be found in the fact that, after years of yelling at and terrorizing people on screen in some of his most memorable roles, the one he casts for himself is far gentler. Sandy is a beloved boss who truly cares about what he does, and he’s a devoted uncle and great-uncle. He also, as a younger man, did his best to protect his little brother before he left. It’s disarming at the very least to see Cox playing such a kindhearted and almost teddy-bear like figure, though it is a part that, even if he hasn’t played it much before, fits him well. Cumming, on the other hand, doesn’t seem like he’s applying himself at all, lacking any of the charisma or showmanship he possesses in so many other projects, which is a disappointment. Shipp doesn’t have much to do despite being very talented, and the undisputed standout of the ensemble is Shirley Henderson as Jess, Sandy’s sharp but sarcastic right hand who also has a history with Donal.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with Glenrothan, but it leaves everything on the surface without trying to dig any deeper. Its screenplay is thin and includes multiple expected plot twists which are meant to take the audience by surprise but truly do not. As a testament to Scotland and to the power of memory and family, this film works just fine, but it doesn’t bear the sophistication that might be expected from someone as seasoned as Cox who has worked with many top-tier directors. This is a passable film that’s enjoyable enough as light entertainment, but it’s fairly forgettable as soon as the credits start to roll.
Movie Rating: 4/10
