My Father Die

Deaf and mute since having his hearing knocked out at the age of 12, Asher has been training for almost two decades to avenge himself on Ivan, the man that killed his older brother, 21 years ago. And now that his nemesis is out of prison, he gets his chance. But Asher's target also happens to be his father.


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  • ★★★★ review by Chris Genro on Letterboxd

    WOW!!!! What an awesome violent indie thriller this is!! I was not expecting this level of style and storytelling when I sat down to watch this. The performances are really good all around but what makes this stand out is the direction by Sean Brosnan (the son of Pierce Brosnan who produced the film). To think this is his directorial debut is amazing.

    The film moves at such a fast pace but also has time for some quiet moments. There is also a rocking score and it has a nice 70s vibe I really appreciated. It's to bad this didn't receive a theatrical release as its so far above the usual indie films you come across. Easily 4/5 and could go up on a rewatch.

  • ★★★★ review by Kristian on Letterboxd

    A stylish redneck revenge story about a deaf man dealing with his evil-with-a-capital-E father. Beautifully shot and edited. Overly ambitious with its black and white and voice-overs, but admirably so. Funny and sweet amidst the pitch black.

  • ★★★★½ review by Brooker on Letterboxd

    A bloody and brutal look at patricide and oedipal complexes, through the eyes of Rob Zombie!

  • ★★★★ review by Turil on Letterboxd

    Surprisingly good southern gothic revenge movie.

  • ★★★½ review by Matt Donato on Letterboxd

    My Father Die is an angry little debut for Sean Brosnan, and thankfully for papa Pierce Brosnan, not with biographical intent. It’s true that Brosnan keeps revenge in the family, but only by way of fictional bayou country folks. Pierce is safe from Sean’s bullet-ridden bite of familial revenge, unlike some characters who find themselves caught between not-so-friendly fire and the struggles of living up to (or denouncing) parental pedestals. It’s pulpy, fur-wearing, country fried fury, following a darker path that’s guided by stellar direction from the man with the golden camera.

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