15 Jun SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL REVIEW – ‘Twinless’ is a dark, funny, and quietly heartbreaking look at the messiness of grief
Every now and then, a film creeps up and breaks you in ways you didn’t see coming. You think you’ve signed up for a sharp but sweet indie dramedy about grief and loneliness, then twenty minutes in, the rug gets pulled and you find yourself free-falling into a strange, sincere exploration of human connection, repressed desire and the complicated ways we seek out comfort. James Sweeney’s Twinless is exactly that kind of film. It’s deceptively simple at first glance, but there’s real emotional trickery hiding just beneath its oddball charm.
Anchored by a stunning dual performance from Dylan O’Brien and a brilliant script from Sweeney, this is a dark, funny, and quietly heartbreaking look at the messiness of grief and the slippery ways we try to hold on to the people we’ve lost. It’s also, surprisingly and effectively, a film about obsession. But that takes a while to reveal itself. Sweeney continues to demonstrate his gift for off-kilter character studies, but here he pushes further into dramatic territory. The result is more jagged, more painful, and all the more rewarding.
Roman (O’Brien) is reeling from the death of his identical twin brother, Rocky (also O’Brien). Once inseparable, the brothers had grown apart in recent years, with Roman staying in their hometown and working construction while Rocky moved to the city and built a vibrant life for himself. Rocky was funny, confident, intelligent, openly gay, and the kind of person everyone wanted to be around. Roman is not.
He’s awkward, a bit of a dullard, emotionally shut down, and clearly struggling to understand not just how to live without his brother but how to exist as an individual. He stumbles into a support group for “twinless” people (aka those whose twin has passed away), where the usual check-ins and therapeutic clichés barely land. Then he meets Dennis (Sweeney), a fast-talking, emotionally open gay man also grieving his twin brother, who is instantly curious about Roman and won’t take his standoffishness as a reason to back off.
What begins as a tentative connection between two very different men quickly deepens. Dennis offers Roman companionship, distraction, even something close to love, though not in a romantic sense. The two start spending their days together, shopping for groceries, wandering through bookstores, and having long conversations about the weight of absence. There is something warm and lovely about their dynamic, but also something a little off.
Roman, desperate for any tether to the brother he no longer understands, leans into this strange new friendship. Dennis, meanwhile, seems to be reaching for something more complicated. Unbeknownst to Roman, Dennis and Rocky once had a brief and intense romantic connection, one that ended badly and left Dennis devastated. Now, with Rocky gone, Dennis sees Roman as both a reminder of his pain and a potential path to healing. That unspoken truth hovers over every scene like a ghost, adding layers of tension to even the film’s lightest moments.
What makes Twinless so compelling is how it takes a premise that could be cloying or cliched and treats it with delicate precision. Sweeney doesn’t rush the emotional beats, nor does he oversell the comedy. Instead, he allows the awkwardness, the confusion, and the moments of tentative intimacy to play out naturally. There’s an authenticity to the way Roman and Dennis communicate, often missing each other’s meaning, often talking at cross purposes, but still finding comfort in each other’s company. It’s rare to see male platonic friendship depicted with this level of nuance, especially one that’s tinged with unacknowledged longing. Dennis may be gay and Roman may be straight, but their connection isn’t easily defined. It’s a kind of emotional co-dependence that grows increasingly thorny as the story unfolds.
The film’s plot is deceptively straightforward at first, until it very much isn’t. Roughly a quarter of the way in, Sweeney drops a narrative twist that reframes everything we’ve seen so far. I won’t spoil it here, but it’s a bold move that could have easily derailed the film. Instead, it deepens the emotional stakes and casts Dennis in a far more morally ambiguous light. Suddenly, the movie you thought you were watching transforms into something more daring and discomforting. The shift is handled with grace, and Sweeney doesn’t flinch from the complicated implications of Dennis’s choices. What’s remarkable is how the film never loses sympathy for him, even as it quietly invites us to question his motives. That tension between empathy and unease is where Twinless thrives.
O’Brien is simply astonishing here. As Roman, he strips away all vanity and delivers a performance that is raw, often painfully so. He makes Roman’s confusion and anger feel lived-in and specific, never playing the grief too broadly but letting it simmer under the surface. That eventually culminates in a release that gives O’Brien the chance to deliver something entirely breathtaking. In his brief scenes as Rocky, O’Brien shifts into an entirely different register, giving us just enough of Rocky’s charisma and sparkle to understand the hole he’s left behind. The physical transformation is subtle, but the emotional one is profound. It’s the best work O’Brien has ever done, and it’s the kind of performance that sneaks up on you with its power.
Sweeney, too, is excellent, playing Dennis with a blend of sharp wit, aching vulnerability, and quiet desperation. He knows exactly when to lean into the comedy and when to let the sadness slip through. It’s a tricky balancing act, but he nails it. O’Brien and Sweeney share an offbeat, magnetic chemistry that hums with emotional tension and subtle longing. Their dynamic crackles with mismatched energy that somehow clicks, making every shared scene feel intimate, unpredictable, and quietly electric.
The supporting cast is small but memorable. Lauren Graham brings a welcome dose of sardonic warmth to the film as Roman and Rocky’s mother, infusing her limited screen time with the weary compassion and frustration of a woman attempting to hold her broken family together. Her scenes offer a grounded counterbalance to Roman’s internal chaos, capturing the ache of a parent grieving two sons in different ways. A scene-stealing Aisling Franciosi is brilliant as Marcie, a surprisingly layered character who brings warmth and humour as Dennis’s endlessly upbeat and unflappable co-worker. Her easygoing charm contrasts sharply with Dennis’s cutting sarcasm, creating a dynamic that highlights his defensive insecurities. Marcie’s growing connection with Roman injects playful tension into the film, and Franciosi’s nuanced performance grounds the story with genuine heart, offering a welcome balance to the film’s emotional intensity.
What lingers most about Twinless is its willingness to sit in discomfort. The film doesn’t offer easy resolutions or tidy emotional arcs. Roman doesn’t magically become whole again, and Dennis struggles to find the closure he’s seeking. Instead, we watch two flawed people stumble through their grief, clinging to each other in ways that are both beautiful and a little dangerous. There are no villains here, just messy, hurting humans doing the best they can with what they’ve been given. That may sound simple, but it’s surprisingly rare to see it portrayed with this much honesty. The comedy throughout is sharp and well observed, never undercutting the film’s emotional core but giving it a rhythm that keeps the story from becoming too bleak. Sweeney has a gift for finding the absurdity in pain, and it’s on full display here.
If there’s a flaw in the film, it’s that the third act wobbles slightly under the weight of its own emotional complexity. After the twist, the story shifts into darker territory, and while much of it works, a few scenes feel slightly rushed. There’s a confrontation late in the film that could have used a bit more breathing room to really land its intended impact. And, occasionally, Roman’s lack of intellect goes a touch too far into the unbelievable. But these are minor issues in an otherwise remarkably assured piece of filmmaking. Sweeney is juggling a lot thematically, and it’s impressive how rarely the film stumbles.
There’s also something refreshing about how Twinless engages with queer themes without ever feeling like it’s trying to make a statement. Dennis is gay, but the film isn’t about coming out or homophobia or any of the typical narrative beats we’ve come to expect. Instead, it’s about desire in its most complicated form and the way it can blur into grief, into projection, into fixation, into addiction. Dennis doesn’t just miss Rocky. He’s mourning what could have been, mourning the version of himself he was when he thought he had a chance at love. That ache runs through every scene, and it gives the film its emotional backbone.
Ultimately, Twinless is about the people we try to become after losing someone who defined us. For Roman, it’s about figuring out who he is without Rocky. For Dennis, it’s about reconciling the person he was with the person he wants to be. Their paths are messy, painful, and not always healthy, but they’re real. And in that realism, the film finds something quietly profound. Not every story about grief needs to end in catharsis. Sometimes, the best we can hope for is a new kind of connection, one that helps us carry the weight a little more easily. Sweeney understands that, and he delivers it with clarity and compassion.
Twinless is the rare film that manages to be both deeply specific and broadly relatable. You don’t need to have lost a twin to understand the feelings at its core. Anyone who has ever felt the ache of absence, the confusion of connection, or the desperate need to be seen will find something here that resonates. It’s funny, sad, surprising, and at times deeply uncomfortable. But most importantly, it feels true. And that’s not something you can fake.
Distributor: Sony Pictures
Cast: Dylan O’Brien, James Sweeney, Lauren Graham, Aisling Franciosi, Tasha Smith, Chris Perfetti
Director: James Sweeney
Producers: David Permut, James Sweeney
Screenplay: James Sweeney
Cinematography: Greg Cotten
Production Design: Priscilla Elliott
Costume Design: Erin Orr
Editor: Nik Boyanov
Music: Jung Jae-il
Running Time: 100 minutes
Release Date: 16th October 2025 (Australia)