Don't be fooled about Twinless. At present, it seems this dark comedy that earned rave reviews out of Sundance is getting lost in the shuffle, as a new wave of festival faves are buzzed about out of Telluride, Venice, and Toronto. Even the hearts of film critics — and certainly whatever remains of Film Twitter — can be fickle. But Twinless deserves better than being glossed over or forgotten. Because this comedy is fucking savage, and I love it for that.
Written, directed, and starring James Sweeney, Twinless is far from a vanity project. Instead, it recalls Julio Torres' brilliant New York City satire Problemista, wherein the writer/director transforms himself into a cringe-inducing clown opposite a more established actor, who proceeds to make a feast of the film. In this case, rather than Tilda Swinton as a trash-hoarding dragon, Maze Runner's Dylan O'Brien plays a pair of twins who have virtually nothing in common. The results for both are movies that are devastating, hilarious, and unquestionably queer.
But Twinless gets much darker than Problemista, folding into its humor a Fatal Attraction sensibility that is deliciously deranged.
Twinless delivers a twisted comedy with a dash of psychological thriller.
On its surface, Twinless is about the unlikely friendship that forms between two guys who meet at a support group for people who've experienced the death of their twin.
Roman (O'Brien) is a brawny bro into sports, video games, and girls, but in his own words, he's "not the brightest tool in the shed." Dennis (Sweeney) is scrawny, cynical, gay, and very witty. For all their differences, the one thing they have in common is a deep loneliness. So, a trip to get groceries turns into a party, which then turns into a holiday trip to see family. But along the way, Sweeney clues the audience in on a lie that lurks between these quickly close friends: Dennis doesn't have a twin.
It's a lie, but not his biggest. Shrewdly, that mysterious, mighty mistruth is teased in the film's very first scene. It's so subtle, some might only catch it on rewatching. Suffice to say, loneliness can drive us to wild decisions, and Twinless delves into this problematic terrain with exuberance.
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Because Sweeney lets us in on Dennis' lie during the second act, we're conflicted as we see Roman and Dennis grow closer. In some ways, they're good for each other. Dennis gives Roman a place to talk freely about his twin brother, Rocky (O'Brien). But perhaps most importantly, Dennis is a second chance for Roman to make amends with his brother in an indirect way. See, the twins had a falling out when Rocky came out as gay, and Roman took it the news poorly. But with Dennis, he's able to better understand queerness, and by extension Rocky, and even himself. Meanwhile, Dennis burns with a desire he can't confess.
All this to say, that is a story of lies, love, loss, and lust. Sweeney deftly balances the shocking turns, twisted punchlines, and earnest heart by playing these two lonely men off each other with a masterful hand.
Twinless is brilliantly, brutally funny.
It begins at Rocky's funeral, where his friends burst into tears as they tell Roman to his face, "It's like seeing a ghost!" Their self-indulgence spurs laughter from us, even as we see how it crushes the surviving twin. Later, when Roman and Dennis meet, it's over a joke about the taste of balls that plays as homophobic at first, then playfully kinky.
Through Dennis, Sweeney is able to craft jokes that are prickly and smart, like a good and nasty read. Through Roman, he is able to set up jokes that are sweeter and frankly a bit stupid. Like when Roman explains he's been paying rent to live in his mother's basement, and Dennis asks, "How's she taking it?" He means Rocky's death, but Roman misses the change in topic, replying sincerely, "Mostly in cash."
Sure, such punchlines urge the audience to laugh at Roman. But Dennis' arc gives plenty of reasons to laugh at him too, mostly for a cringe-worthy neediness. Yet, such jokes invite us to understand these flawed men, warts and all, and maybe even embrace them, even as they turn on each other.
Dylan O'Brien delivers a knockout performance as a pair of twins.
An unexpected trend in 2025 is leading men playing dual roles. So far, we've had Robert De Niro in Alto Knights, Robert Pattinson in Mickey 17, and Michael B. Jordan in Sinners. O'Brien's performance stands out even among these heavy hitters, because the contrast between Rocky and Roman is clear and so crucial to understanding not only who they are as characters, but also how they got into their respective predicaments.
As Roman, O'Brien is a lovable himbo. Heartbroken but open-hearted, he is like a kicked puppy as he explores Portland, the city that his twin made home. He's lost, shrunken by hurt. Yet, there's a charm to his simplicity, even when he's simply awkward. But as Rocky, he's another beast altogether.
Rocky is a swaggering stud. In flashbacks, he's powerful, seductive, and breezy, somehow all at once. He's the kind of guy who can pick up a stranger in a diner and have him in his bed minutes later. Rocky has the kind of easy confidence and enviable openness that makes us fall for him almost instantly, even though we know where he'll end up. By creating such a brief but blazing portrait of Rocky, O'Brien makes us relate to Roman's loss as if it were ours too.
All of this builds to a climax that is smartly stressful and defiantly outrageous. True to queer culture, Twinless is transgressive in its humor and ultimately humane in its storytelling. So, as deeply deranged as Sweeney's thriller gets, there's still room to laugh and love these tragically twisted characters.
So much more than a Sundance movie, Twinless is a jewel of queer cinema, rough, radiant, and beguiling. Seek it out. Then watch it again.
