Film Review — The Brutalist
Strong performances and old-school epic evocations enhance Brady Corbet’s tale of immigration, architecture, and the American Dream
Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist is a curious beast. On the one hand, it has the trappings of an old-school Hollywood epic, structured as such in its cinematic presentation. Shot in 35mm VistaVision (blown up to 70mm in certain venues), it features an overture, intermission, and full frame chapter captions: “Part 1: The Enigma of Arrival”, “Part 2: The Hard Core of Beauty”, and “Epilogue: The First Architecture Biennale”. These evoke memories of everything from Lawrence of Arabia (1962) to The Godfather Part II (1974) and Barry Lyndon (1975).
Yet despite such formal nostalgic nods, The Brutalist is a thoroughly modern piece of cinema in many other respects. Its subject, Hungarian Jewish architect and Holocaust survivor László Tóth (Adrien Brody), is a modernist designer of the Bauhaus school (hence the title). The film reflects the utilitarianism of that design movement; for example, the brevity of the aforementioned overture and the striking, Bauhaus-inspired Dutch-angled end credits. Despite the lengthy running time (214 minutes, including the 15-minute intermission at the halfway point), nothing feels superfluous. There’s a spareness and economy to everything from the budget (less than $10 million; extraordinary for a film of this scope) to Corbet and Mona Fastvold’s screenplay, which keeps subplots firmly in line. Even Daniel Blumberg’s music score is largely atonal, eschewing the stirring strings the likes of Nina Rota and Ennio Morricone brought to the dark-side-of-the-American-Dream classics that inform The Brutalist.
Such classics, including The Godfather (1972) and Once Upon a Time in America (1984), as well as Citizen Kane (1941), Giant (1956), and, more recently, There Will Be Blood (2007), linger in the mind as one watches. Can Corbet escape their shadow? Not entirely, to my mind, but The Brutalist is its own beast, nonetheless. The narrative is compelling, with László’s arrival in New York an immediately arresting sequence. Shot in tight close-ups, as he hurries onto the deck of a crowded vessel, he sees the Statue of Liberty. But from his perspective, it is upside down, or at other odd angles. As a visual metaphor for the askew nature of the American Dream, it’s a singular image courtesy of cinematographer Lol Crawley and a brilliant bit of direction from Corbet.
Upon arrival, László travels to Philadelphia and is welcomed by his cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola). However, Attila’s Catholic wife, Audrey (Emma Laird), is less than happy about László’s presence in their home, putting pressure on him to seek work and shelter elsewhere rather than remain working in their furniture business. When Attila is hired by Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn), son of wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pierce), to build a library as a “surprise” for his father, László’s expertise in the endeavour leads to a fateful encounter with Harrison. At first, Harrison is angry about the library (mainly due to the poor timing of his arrival, the ill health of his mother, and his dislike of surprises). Yet when the library attracts the attention of national magazines, Harrison commissions László for a significantly greater project.
Another significant strand of the narrative concerns László’s wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and their niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy). Forcibly separated by the Nazis during the war, where each endured the horrors of different concentration camps, László arrives in Philadelphia only to learn they are still alive. However, getting them to America involves significant challenges, delaying their arrival. I won’t say more about what happens except to add that Felicity Jones is superb in her supporting role, arguably overshadowing Brody. His performance is also good, recalling the traumatised anguish he displayed in The Pianist (2002), for which he won an Oscar.
There has been some controversy about the use of AI to tweak Hungarian dialects (after an interview the film’s editor, Dávid Jancsó, gave with Red Shark News). My views on this matter are documented elsewhere, but although this is a disturbing, thin-end-of-the-wedge trend, it seems clear enough that, for the most part, the performances here are entirely human. I’d add that Guy Pierce is equally compelling, in a complex role that, despite the darker, domineering elements of his character, could be intriguingly linked to Corbet’s personal experience concerning the high esteem in which he holds his mother (Harrison has a similar reverence for his). Elsewhere in the supporting cast, touches of warmth and humanity are provided by Isaach de Bankolé, as László’s single father friend, Gordon, and Stacy Martin, playing Harry Van Buren’s twin sister, Maggie.
Whether The Brutalist goes on to be hallowed in the manner of the films that inspired it remains to be seen. However, for the time being, its themes — ambition, privilege, identity, egomania, abuse of power, the American Dream’s tendency to turn into a nightmare, the formation of the state of Israel, refusal to make artistic compromises, the smuggling of subversive ideas into architecture (and, by extension, art in general) — are thought-provoking and fascinating. In particular, the subject of American immigration is depressingly relevant in a way that I wonder if Corbet anticipated. In any event, this is a fine piece of work; gripping and occasionally shocking. It won’t be to everyone’s taste, but, as I’ve predicted, I expect it will win Best Picture and Best Director at this year’s Oscars.
(Originally published at Medium.)
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