“In this farewell
There’s no blood, there’s no alibi
‘Cause I’ve drawn regret
From the truth of a thousand lies…”– “What I’ve Done” by Linkin Park from the 2007 album Minutes to Midnight
There’s a joke floating around the internet whose origination point is unknown, but it basically boils down to: there was a time when the internet would scream when we would log on, but now we do. The act of being online is expected, presumed by all, and there’s an entire generation who have not known what life was like before the internet, when there was no way to know what the whole world was thinking all at once, when the world felt smaller and quieter, when our identity was still ours to be shaped instead of molded by the persona we cultivate for the masses. Mostly, there was a time when the first thing anyone ever asked of a stranger was a/s/l and the best we could do for world-facing identification was picking out the lyrics to display on our Away message. In her sophomore feature, filmmaker Kate Cobb (Okie) utilizes the backdrop of a time long past for the sibling road trip dramedy BRB, having its world premiere during Slamdance Film Festival 2026 in the Breakouts section. Though there’s inconsistent information about specifically when in time this takes place, there’s no questioning the era or the honesty in the conflict the central characters must face, resulting in a story that’s emotionally resonant regardless of which generation you belong.
L-R: Autumn Best as Sam and Zoe Colletti as Dylan in BRB. Photo courtesy of Slamdance.
Sisters Sam and Dylan (Autumn Best and Zoe Colletti, respectively) are having a rough go of things individually. As their parents prepare to leave town on vacation without them, Dylan navigates a recent break-up with her musician boyfriend while Sam takes solace in the ending of her favorite show by chatting with the internet boyfriend she’s never met. Seeing an opportunity for Sam to meet her boyfriend in real life and for her to catch up with her ex at his Chicago, Illinois, show, Dylan convinces Sam to go on a secret road trip for bonding purposes, neither aware of what will be revealed and how their lives will change forever.
Though BRB is written by Michael Waller (American Schemers) and Sydney Blackburn (American Schemers) and not Okie scribe Kevin Bigley (Dandelions), it’s fascinating to see how Cobb’s new tale continues a cinematic approach of self-identification. In her debut feature, the film revolved around an author who has come home after a death in the family, confronted by a past he utilized (and cribbed) to draft a successful novel. Without delving into specifics, its central character must contend with who he is versus who he pretends to be as jovial former friends turning biting commentary into something deeper and more personal. The notion of “who we are” courses throughout BRB, except, instead of being centered on a theoretical fully-formed person, it’s on two young adults, one 15 (Sam) and the other college-aged (Dylan). Both are in a strong state of transition as the eldest is headed to college soon while dealing with the just-happened break-up, while the youngest is confronted with a favorite show concluding whose existence is the reason she connected online with her beau. In both cases, the sisters only see a version of themselves reflected back, unaware of what’s bubbling under the surface, years of assumptions and familial moments creating a sheen by which individuality is a near impossibility.
Conversely, shown through the arc of BRB’s central figure Sam, being online in the early years provided a space where one could start from scratch and present a version of themselves that no one else would know without needing to move away or go to camp. Thus, the road trip structure involving forced hangouts and various bonding hijinks does what is typically done once siblings are older and out of the house, they bond as people and the transformations that take place are impactful and empowering. What’s fascinating within BRB is the number of ways in which the script reveals secrets to us which the characters never fully discuss or acknowledge, yet are detrimental to the setup of the conclusion of the film and understanding where the characters are by the end. This aspect may frustrate some viewers who are used to revelations coming to bear always, but it’s a refreshing touch to have a few things left unsaid or unrealized (between characters) as these things help the audience to best understand what the actors are doing and why their characters respond as they do. Of the most obvious (and briefly discussed) is the final addressing of a childhood nickname Dylan uses to reference Sam — “Jumbo.” The impetus for the nickname isn’t important and the script doesn’t take any real time to explore it (as it shouldn’t within the context of the argument at-present), but the nickname’s impact on Sam psychologically is profound and a significant element of how she views herself resulting in several moments in which Best (Woman of the Year) inspires concern from the audience over her choices through the simple act of taking medication. Interestingly, the way that Colletti (Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark) portrays Dylan is as someone who’s unsure of how to define themselves at all, while perpetually swinging at various moral accusations from those who perceive a truth of her which may or may not be true. This is the plight of siblings. The oldest bears the unasked responsibility of minding their youngers while carving their own path of self-identity, while the youngest constantly compares themselves to the person they see (and often admire), failing perpetually to live up to the ideal created in their minds.
The primary issue with this film is a small but important detail: time. The film is set 2007 and the production and set design smartly reflect that period with Dylan bearing the marks of an emo kid while Sam watches a Dawson’s Creek/CW stand-in. However, the dialogue plainly sets the film in the summer, specifically the end of summer, but the band merch Dylan clings to sets the tour date on the 20th of October. Setting the film at the end of the summer helps to establish within the film a sense of transition — the girls being old enough to be left at home for an extended period without an adult, Dylan about to go to college, and Sam headed to high school — in addition to the respective stories of the central two characters and their love lives. It gives BRB an additional weight as times of transition are profoundly difficult, whether we (character or real person) are aware of it in the moment or not. So the fact that the tour sweatshirt is predominately featured twice so that we, like the character, linger on it and digest a date in the middle of October rather that the colloquial end of summer before students, like Sam, head to school forces the audience to notice conflicting data that rips them right out of the film. One can ignore that Sam’s favorite program should be *starting* its season at the end of summer (which would be super early) and not ending (which would be incredibly late) for a 2007 season because broadcasters like USA used to have specific summer programming (looking at you, Burn Notice and Royal Pains). However, if one presumes that colleges start their semesters in August, there’s no way to bend the spacetime continuum to make this issue of August to October work in the span of one week. This feels like a stupid thing to get hung up on when so many of the other details within BRB are so targeted and exact, but that’s exactly why the mismatch is so prominent and distracting.
L-R: Autumn Best as Sam and Zoe Colletti as Dylan in BRB. Photo courtesy of Slamdance.
Despite this, Cobb’s BRB does beautifully capture that period of adolescence where things were simpler even when they felt extraordinarily complicated, where it was even easier than now to forge an online identity because who would ever know and why should anyone care. It provided a freedom that was absent in the corporeal space and the consequences seemed absent. Cobb presents a tale set within a period of time that is gone forever, even as the realities about siblings and their connections are universal and perpetually prevalent. Brought to life by compelling performances which craft dimensional characters we can root for despite their messiness, BRB is as much a love-letter to the relationships we create through blood as it is the ones we cleave through cyberspace.
AFK.
Screening during Slamdance Film Festival 2026.
For more information, head to the official Slamdance Film Festival BRB webpage.
Final Score: 3.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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