“Aren’t I Adorkable?” Billy Eichner’s Box Office Disaster

Why “Bros” Failed at the Cinema

Patrick J. Colliano
5 min readOct 7, 2022
Luke Macfarlane and Billy Eichner as Aaron Shepard and Bobby Lieber, respectively

There’s always an element of cringe involved when I’m watching a movie, and I come to realize that the screenwriter has made himself the central character. Yes, of course, to some extent, the characters are based on the author; they are, after all, products of his imagination. But I’m referring to those instances of blatant self-insertion, when the central character so much resembles the author that it could only be intentional. Take for instance, “Play it Again, Sam,” the 1972 film written by and starring Woody Allen, based on the 1969 Broadway play of the same name. The central character, Alan Felix, is obviously Woody Allen. And Allen thinks we should find him absolutely endearing. It’s essentially Allen saying, “Yeah, I’m a dork, but aren’t I the most lovable dork?”

Well, no, to be blunt. There is the unpalatable fact that Alan Felix has sex with his best friend’s wife, which is the definitive dick move. Yet Woody Allen apparently thinks we should be rooting for Alan Felix.

Why? Well, the film seems to suggest that we should just overlook the fact that he slept with his best friend’s wife, because he’s such a failure with women; we should be glad he finally succeeded with someone. But I’m just not that forgiving. Also, I can’t see Alan Felix as quite the hopeless loser that Woody Allen tries to create. Alan Felix is a recent divorcee, so obviously someone believed he was worth making a lifetime commitment to. And we as the audience can’t exactly forget that he was married, because his ex-wife keeps appearing in dream sequences.

I can’t cheer for Alan Felix. Despite Woody Allen’s best efforts, you cannot repackage sleeping with your best friend’s wife as anything but the ultimate betrayal.

And this is the problem I have with Bobby Lieber (Billy Eichner), our central character in Bros. During his initial meeting with Aaron Shepard (Luke Macfarlane), Aaron displays a certain charming awkwardness. But rather than try to be understanding with Aaron, being patient with his shyness and gently drawing him out, Bobby pointedly and repeatedly insults him by telling him that everyone he knows has told him how boring Aaron is. Bobby eventually apologizes, finally realizing what a horrible thing he’s doing. But this was unwarrantedly cruel. I’d have an easier time forgiving this if I thought Aaron had done something, even unintentionally, that might have set Bobby off, but he didn’t.

Then to top it all off, Bobby has the nerve to act surprised and hurt when he discovers that Aaron has wandered off. Gee, Bobby, I can’t imagine why Aaron would just disappear on you like that. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’re an asshole?

This incident is addressed again later in the film. Bobby might have redeemed himself with a sincere apology and admitting that he said that out of spite, he was afraid of being vulnerable, whatever; but instead, he dismisses it as a joke.

A joke? I must have missed the punchline. Moreover, his delivery, rather than tinged with remorse over saying something so hurtful, was somewhat disbelieving, like he just couldn’t see how Aaron could be so stupid as to not realize that he was joking.

As if Bobby wasn’t unlikable enough, he’s now something of a gaslighter.

Which kind of spoils their breakup scene. As Bobby walks away, Aaron calls after him, citing himself as living proof that Bobby is lovable.

When I heard that, I was less touched by Aaron’s openness than I was incredulous at his obliviousness. Bobby is far from lovable. And Aaron’s assessment of an aspiring bitter old queen like Bobby doesn’t come across as insightful, like he sees something in Bobby that I don’t. It just makes him look stupid.

Think of six-year-old Cindy Lou Who (Taylor Momsen) in Ron Howard’s awful adaptation of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Cindy Lou keeps insisting that the Grinch (Jim Carrey) is “sweet.” That would be the same Grinch who had no qualms about leaving her to suffer a gruesome death after she had fallen into a gift-wrapping machine. The Grinch of that movie is not “sweet.” He’s a raving psycho. True, the Grinch eventually pulls her from the machine, but that’s only when Max forces him to.

Cindy Lou’s insistence that he’s really sweet doesn’t come from some childlike naivete or insight that we lose upon becoming adults. It’s blatant stupidity, even by six-year-old standards. (Or even two-year-old standards, which is how old Cindy Lou Who is supposed to be, according to the book.)

If I knew someone like Bobby in Bros, he’d be a casual friend at best. Certainly not someone I’d discuss anything important or personal with. I wouldn’t be introducing him to any of my close friends. And I most definitely would not recommend him as suitable boyfriend material for anyone.

This is the problem I have with Bros. Our hero, the one we’re supposed to be rooting for, is just not likable. I would have found this movie more satisfying if Aaron had ended up with his high school crush, and Bobby realized he just wasn’t open and vulnerable enough for a relationship. Then he might wish Aaron well before moving on to work on himself some more. Not only would this have been the only moment where I could have felt any sympathy or respect for Bobby, but this might have given us some hope for Bobby in the future, possibly a sequel.

Billy Eichner blames homophobia for the movie’s dismal performance at the box office. And I get it. He is the film’s executive producer, writer and star. If he didn’t blame it on external factors, he’d be forced to accept the responsibility himself, given the several vital roles he plays.

And maybe there is something to the homophobia claim: straight guys simply don’t do rom-coms of any kind, unless dragged into it by their girlfriends. Asking them to attend a gay rom-com seems a bridge too far.

Then there is the fact that Eichner sneeringly demanded that conservative gays don’t see his movie. And this is a tactic I have never understood. I get that movies have target audiences, but why discourage anyone from attending your film? Doesn’t he want the film to make money? I’d encourage every single person in the world to attend a movie I wrote and starred in. And if they don’t happen to be part of the target demographic, so what? Maybe they would get something from it anyway.

If nothing else, he could find satisfaction in the fact that conservative gays would be giving him their money.

I’m not the one to fix every problem this film has, but I can think of some ways in which it could have been made better. Billy Lieber is supposed to be a lovable dork (doubtless, this is how Eichner sees himself), but Eichner is not the one to play that role. If I were casting it, I would have gone with Jack Quaid as Bobby. Quaid is the definitive lovable dork. Look at his performance in “The Boys.”

In addition to finding an actor who can play a lovable dork to play the film’s lovable dork, he should have toned down Billy’s mean streak, at least when dealing with prospective dates in clubs. Aaron was not out to antagonize Billy and was genuinely interested in him. There was just no need for Billy to be so nasty.

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Patrick J. Colliano
Patrick J. Colliano

Written by Patrick J. Colliano

Actor, fitness enthusiast, and observer of life.

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