Walking into Glenrothan at TIFF 2025, I was eager to see what the feature directorial debut from renowned actor Brian Cox would deliver, and for the most part, I was not let down. Trading his ruthless media mogul persona for the role of a brother and whisky distiller, Cox presents a family drama that reflects his deep affection for his Scottish homeland while offering a competent, if predictable, exploration of brotherly reconciliation. While the story treads familiar ground, the visuals and performances make the film well worth your attention.
The narrative explores the relationship between two estranged brothers in their later years, who are finally compelled to confront their past and grapple with old struggles. The story centres on Donal, played with surprising emotional depth by Alan Cumming, who returns to the fictional Highland village of Glenrothan after 35 years managing a blues club in Chicago.
At the beginning of the film, the club burns to the ground, prompting Donal to return home. His brother Sandy, portrayed by Cox, runs the family whisky distillery while battling cancer, which becomes the catalyst for their long-overdue reunion. The premise originates from a violent family confrontation following their mother’s funeral decades earlier, though the film wisely avoids dwelling too heavily on past trauma in favour of present healing.
As the emotional core of the story, Cumming delivers a powerful performance that anchors the film, shifting seamlessly between melancholy, frustration and genuine hope as Donal confronts both his past and uncertain future. Cox, meanwhile, imbues Sandy with a mix of duty-bound stoicism and mischievous warmth that feels authentically Scottish without slipping into caricature. Their chemistry as estranged siblings is convincing, particularly in the quieter moments where decades of unspoken grievances gradually give way to understanding.
While the story is familiar, the striking beauty of its locations cannot be overstated. Cox’s directorial approach prioritizes atmosphere over innovation, and the film benefits greatly from its Highland settings, including Glasgow and the village of Gartmore, where principal photography took place in 2024. The cinematography captures Scotland’s rugged beauty without resorting to postcard clichés, creating a sense of place that feels lived-in rather than merely picturesque.
“I left Glenrothan largely satisfied, having seen a heartfelt meditation on family, forgiveness and the pull of home.”
The colour palette emphasizes earth tones and muted greens that reflect both the landscape and the characters’ emotional states. Scotland itself becomes a character, shaping the tone and look of the film. Each location offers a distinct sense of place and feeling, even while remaining unmistakably Scottish.
Now, don’t get me wrong: just because I did not find the story Glenrothan brings to the screen particularly new does not mean there isn’t considerable talent on display. To suggest otherwise would be unfair. The film features many strong performances, all of which come together to create something that feels true to Cox’s vision and the story as a whole.
The supporting cast, including Shirley Henderson and Alexandra Shipp as Donal’s daughter Amy, provides a solid foundation for the central brotherly relationship without overwhelming the intimate scope of the narrative. Henderson, in particular, shines in her limited screen time, bringing warmth and authenticity to what might otherwise have been a thankless role.
Where Glenrothan falls short is in its reliance on well-worn family drama tropes, with conflicts that resolve in largely predictable ways despite a few intriguing twists involving rare whisky bottles and competing business interests. The film’s emotional beats follow familiar patterns, and while the execution is solid, audiences seeking narrative surprises will likely anticipate plot developments well before they arrive. This is a film that leaves you feeling both sad and uplifted, which is not a weakness, but it never sets out to break new ground or upend expectations.
That said, Cox’s direction shows confidence for a first-time filmmaker, resulting in a film that feels well-crafted and impactful within its intentions. The pacing does lag at times during exposition-heavy passages that could have benefited from tighter editing, but for viewers open to a gentle, uplifting journey, a few extended scenes of hillsides and family celebration will not be unwelcome.
Despite these minor gripes, I left Glenrothan largely satisfied, having seen a heartfelt meditation on family, forgiveness and the pull of home. Cox’s genuine affection for Scotland is evident in every frame, creating what feels like a love letter to his homeland—earned rather than forced. Glenrothan is a film that embraces differences, avoids dwelling on conflict and instead favours a journey that feels loving, if occasionally brash in its delivery. While it may not break new ground, Glenrothan is certainly worth the trip.
