In ‘Brothers,’ Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson Have Fun Riding Their Public Personas Over Every Cliff

Tony Sokol

Apple comedy “Brothers” takes a true rumor and makes it as real as Texas law will allow. Years ago, after mutually appreciating the good times enjoyed on Hollywood sets, Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey contemplated possibilities of a deeper bond. McConaughey’s mother, Ma Mac (Holland Taylor), mentioned a coincidental overlap during a divorce from her larger-than-life, but now deceased rodeo star husband, James Donald “Big Jim” McConaughey. During that short time, she might have known Harrelson’s father, a renowned roustabout now incarcerated with a checkered past in the intelligence community, “in the Biblical sense.” Well, hilarity ensues as tangled webs weave a practice mistaken to deceive.

If this sounds like a setup from a retro television sitcom, it’s not that far off. “Brothers” follows the rhythms of classic TV icons, both Golden Age and contemporary hits. Created by Lee Eisenberg, who produced “The Office,” “Brothers” circumnavigates modern sensibilities while surfing traditional comedy waters, breaking noses rather than jumping sharks. Woody and Matthew recall the antics of Rick and Fred from “I Love Lucy,” but with highly informed wives. Valentina McConaughey (Natalie Martinez) and Joy Harrelson (Brittany Ishibashi) are more than foils to superstar husbands. Each interjects subversive roadblocks to curb terminally skewered instincts.

Woody and Matthew play parodies of how they are perceived, but lean into the extremes with vulnerable hearts. During a tone-deaf parental-bonding, deer hunting philosophical aside, Matthew’s son Wyatt (Nolan Almeida) asks if his father proclaims say something similar in a Lincoln ad. McConaughey says yes, he did. You can see the pride in his eyes.  Harrelson plays Woody like a cartoon, keeping the kids and the audience off-guard, while he deals with the problems at hand. And even then, Woody’s choice of fixes leans more toward Wile E. Coyote contraptions, “low-key genius,” as he likes to call them, but destined to exacerbate the damage.

The Harrison family dynamic defines the cut-and-run lifestyle. Whether this is done in style on their ostentatious bus, whether by choice of long-term necessity is never explained. The first escape is when Dakota (Highdee Kuan) is dumped by her fiancé. The Harrelson family converges on Matthew’s Austin ranch after Woody implodes after his daughter’s wedding falls apart. 

“Brother” covers a lot of ground for an eight-episode situational comedy with no promise of a second season. Friends since childhood, they now must circumnavigate the war zone of a high school dance. There is an extreme sweetness on display, and not because both McConaughey and Harrelson are playing two different versions of helicopter pilot parenting. This is before the true unity is tested.The McConaughy unit may operate under quasi-military discipline, but Matthew is immune to any and all rules and regulations because of the wild life his father lived. “Truth, loyalty, and family mean different things at different times. Ma Mac is a hoot, and a half. She’s got family secrets, and secret recipes. Woody can’t bring himself to tell Matthew about some upsetting news affecting both of them, so he throws Ma Mac under the bus with her drinking problem. But Matthew’s known about that since he was a kid.

McConaughey and Harrelson are best when at cross-purposes, which usually adds a special fire to any interaction, and because no one can be more of a cross to bear to any purpose than a brother or a best friend. We want them to fight to see them make up. We don’t want to see them in matching cowboy suits, but push through because of the beautiful absurdity the two actors bring with an ease which feels natural more than practiced.

In spite of the gubernatorial race at the center of proceedings, “Brothers” is the least political show on television. Besides Harrelson’s references to ongoing activism, including his lovable self-deprecating humor, politics are relegated to abstract concepts. Ms. Hillcrest-Barnes-Davies is the most thrilling, and frightening, campaign manager to join any political team, much less a grassroots movement, and Lisa Gilroy plays her with a completely hands-off approach. Every enthusiastic observation coming out of her mouth, with absolute confidence, is immediately followed by her own personal disdain for the reality behind the political mythmaking. (“Oh, down-home charm, I love that,” Ms. Hillcrest-Barnes-Davies trills. “Well, not me, personally, I find it appalling.” Or telling Valentina she “can’t wait to make you over, from top to bottom.” Gilroy moves from parody to satire and back again, without losing the hyper-reality of her, soon-to-have-a-political-breakdown grounding in the situation. McConaughey learns how to be a Texan, and politician, but his campaign manager still can’t keep her food down. Not that this is an unfair assessment. 

“Brothers” works as a heartfelt look inside friendship celebrity bond, sanitized by the drama which enfolds to break up the bond between the titular heads of the two families. The brighter minds always come from outside the odd couple insulated by decades of adoring well-wishers wishing they would just move on. (Except for one fan who does not want Matthew to leave her back yard, and would prefer he stare at an old tree house).  Harrelson and McConaughey allow everyone in the tight-knit ensemble shine, and it’s a shame the adventures will not be on going.

“Brothers” begins streaming Sept. 23 on Apple TV+.