The great Irish director Jim Sheridan makes some of the most emotionally articulate films I've ever seen. I cried my way through most of My Left Foot and In America, and now I've done the same during his latest, Brothers. The film, a faithful remake of Danish director Susanne Bier's  Brodre, tells the story of two brothers, one good and one bad—that is, if you believe family lore.

Sam (Toby Maguire) is a decorated Marine and former high school quarterback married to Grace (Natalie Portman), his childhood sweetheart. They have two young daughters (Bailee Madison and Taylor Geare). Sam is just getting ready for another tour of duty in Afghanistan when his kid brother Tommy (Jake Gyllenhaal) gets released from jail. (The crime is never specified, but it appears to have been some sort of burglary.) The boys' alcoholic father Hank (Sam Shepherd), a Vietnam vet, thinks Tommy can do no right and Sam can do no wrong—and he never hesitates to say so. Inevitably, Tommy lives up to his family's low opinion of him.

When Sam's plane is shot down in Afghanistan, he is presumed dead. We know, in fact, that he's been taken prisoner by the Taliban.

Back at home, Grace and the two girls are hit the hardest and Tommy starts hanging around the house, helping with chores, eventually turning into a kind of surrogate father and husband. As we see this new family structure blossom—even Hank comments on the change in Tommy—we also see snippets of the living hell that Sam is enduring at the hands of his captors. He is being tortured, both emotionally and physically, and when he is finally freed and comes home, he's worse than just a shell of a man—he's possibly dangerous.

Jim Sheridan always teases great performances from his cast and Brothers is no exception. Maguire, who lost a dramatic amount of weight for the role, is riveting as the traumatized Sam. He's convinced himself that Tommy and Grace are sleeping together and focuses all of his rage and paranoia on this imagined betrayal. When Sam asks his commanding officer to let him go back to Afghanistan—it's clear to both the officer and the audience that Sam is nowhere near ready—we can tell that he's drowning. "I don't belong here anymore," he pleads.

Portman is his equal as the grieving Grace, who puts on her game face for the kids but eventually allows herself to breathe again. And Gyllenhaal does his best work since Brokeback Mountain—we watch his character open up, smile more, let people into his world. But Tommy carries the burden of knowing that his new status in the family has come at his brother's expense.

As with In America, the real miracle here is what Sheridan does with the child stars. Both young actresses are solid, but Bailee Madison, who plays the oldest daughter Isabelle (she's about 7 or 8), is a marvel. It is Isabelle who feels the most angry and confused over the stranger who has returned in her father's place. And it Isabelle, who in a rush of youthful defiance, sets off the film's incendiary climax with a deliberately hurtful lie. I won't ruin it by telling it here. (Alas, you probably already saw it in the trailer).

Some have accused Brothers of being melodramatic, I don't see it that way. I  might say that, in the hands of a lesser director, the film could be melodramatic. But Sheridan is at his best when the emotional stakes are highest. It's a pleasure to watch him work.