I haven't seen my brother in 4 years. When I found out he was in a movie, I had to watch it.

• I haven't seen my brother in four years. 
• He was recently in a movie, so I decided to watch it to see what it was about. 
• I flinched when he came on-screen and was left wondering if it was the last time I'd see him. 

I don't see my brother anymore. It's been so long that I must count the years on my fingers — just shy of a whole high five. Our last conversation ended bitterly, with several dozen voice messages left floating.

Why the estrangement? It's classic family stuff — lots of little things that some other dramas would've surely replaced down the road. It was inevitable, really. We're far too similar and ultimately too different to get along.

We got on well until we didn't

His dyslexia made script reading difficult, but he was a confident young actor who could control the room with a loud mouth and rapid improv. I was the shy "smart-ass" of the family, much more interested in reading and crying. We got on well until we didn't. I'm the baby of the family. I grew up last, but I was the first to go to university. I saw things differently when I returned, like a kitchen-sink version of "They Live."

Every family has behaviors they excuse — things they let slide in service to unconditional love. But my love had conditions, apparently; I wasn't invited to his wedding, and I have two nephews I've never met. It hasn't been easy.

He is in a movie now

A few months ago, I saw my brother by accident. Not in person, but on a screen. I saw post after post on social media celebrating an indie film in which he plays the starring role. Honestly, it looked right up my alley. It's an edgy affair about a suicide club with good reviews. Facebook groups rate it. My mom rates it. I couldn't escape it; the universe wanted me to see this film.

"Screw it," I said. "I'll watch it."

I waited until I could catch it on streaming services. Could I risk watching this film in a theater, surrounded by strangers? Would I be jealous if they all spontaneously erupted into a standing ovation? Probably.

So, no, this was better as a family affair — brothers only.

The problem is that films aren't fun when you know the people in them. Imagine watching the "stargate" scene in "2001: A Space Odyssey," but only being able to think about how Keir Dullea punched you in the gut on the way in.

It's like knowing the secret to the magic trick. You see through the facade. It's not escapism, just realism. As I basked in the glow of my laptop, showered in my personal "stargate," I had to deal with some emotional gut punches of my own.

I flinched when I saw him come on the screen

It's a sad fact that I'm no longer used to my own brother's face. When he first popped up on-screen at the three-minute, 19-second mark, I flinched. After avoiding someone for so long, here I was, confronted by his digital effigy. And that's the strange thing: The man on the screen isn't supposed to be my brother, but he looks an awful lot like him. He looks like me, too. He looks like every argument, every birthday, and every deleted memory. My god, it was distracting. I honestly had to stop myself from looking away.

There's a scene in the film where my brother's character rides down a parking-lot ramp inside a trash can. He's laughing, the love interest is laughing. They're having fun. And for one passing moment during the whole runtime, I'm having fun, too. Distraction gone. Disbelief suspended. I'm in the film, sharing a laugh with my brother.

Then it's gone. The rest of the film is fine, but I got something out of it nobody else could — a fleeting, bittersweet moment with my brother. And, as the credits rolled, as the film cut to black, I was left wondering if it would be the last.

George Francis Lee is a writer and journalist from the North of England. You can find him at @Editor_GFL