Fictional architect László Tóth emigrates from Hungary to America in hopes of a better life for himself and his family in this grand fable from Brady Corbet.
Brutalism is an architectural style characterized by raw concrete structures and a hypnotizingly expressive form achieved through almost indescribable shapes; the movement was revered by art critics but hated by the general public because a given building’s massive design was both difficult for them to navigate and flat out imposing as a whole; in layman’s terms: no one likes to feel small. It’d be pretentious to declare Brady Corbet as a cinematic brutalist for having the ambition to direct a 3½ hour picture about an architect immigrating to America in a time where those stories struggle to make money, but his new film The Brutalist is a testament to his abilities as a filmmaker, and one of the best films of the year for its ensemble’s performances, and the story’s generational statement about the foundation on which our nation was built.
Two years after World War II, fictional Hungarian-born architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) is a Jewish Holocaust survivor emigrating to the United States dreaming of a better life after being separated from niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy) and wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones). He stays with cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola) and his wife Audrey (Emma Laird), and works for the former’s furniture shop in Pennsylvania until Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn) commissions them to renovate his family’s study as a surprise for his father upon his return from a business trip.
However, wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce) arrives before László finishes his remarkable plan for the study, and is so furious that he demands László and Attila to leave the premises without compensation. What follows puts a strain on the architect’s relationship with his cousin, and sends László on a voyage that returns him to the comfort of the Van Burens, but forces him to sacrifice pieces of his identity bit by bit with every request Harrison makes, and exposes him to the dark side of the immigrant’s experience in America.
Audiences balking at the 3 ½ hour runtime will find their concerns quick to be quelled once they give The Brutalist a chance, because Brady Corbet directs this opus by beautifully illustrating its protagonist’s frame of mind. As soon as his ferry docks into Ellis Island, László sees the Statue of Liberty upside-down and sideways, and the film cuts to his view of the unknown world outside passing him by as he gazes out a bus window, eyes wide in uncertainty. His confusion is also brilliantly conveyed through handheld camerawork that assumes his point of view, such as an instance where Audrey dances for him during a night of fun between the two and Attila.
The cinematography also makes its own contribution to the perspective-driven storytelling of The Brutalist; with one moment coming when László faces Attila, whose face is shrouded in darkness as if to suggest he doesn’t know what kind of a person his own cousin is, or what’s motivating him to make a decision so cruel and outrageous. Adrien Brody communicates incredibly nuanced horror through his facial expression here, but he also displays powerful relief earlier upon receiving welcome news fresh off the boat, and later in an intimate moment. László goes through the entire gamut of emotions throughout his experience in America, and Brody depicts them all in what might be the best male performance of the year.
Guy Pearce also performs at the top of his game in The Brutalist by lending Harrison Lee Van Buren with genius ambiguity; he presents himself visually with well-meaning dignity but speaks in a manner that suggests he has ulterior motives at play. The film’s script also succeeds in empathizing us to László as a character; he is a driven man determined to regain his strength as an individual after losing it in the Holocaust, and make something of himself so he never has to work for anyone again, and provide a good life for his family. But while László pursues the American Dream in the first half of his tale, through briskly-paced, enthralling yet devastating turns, the second half gradually spirals the architect and his wife into the American nightmare.
As excellent of a film that The Brutalist is, it’s worth noting that not a lot happens in the film’s first act, but that’s countered by the fact so much is happening subtextually amongst the quiet, naturalistic drama. Corbet’s latest also doesn’t arrive in theaters without controversy; during a hard day’s work on an odd job, László listens to a broadcast of Israel’s former Prime Minister David-Ben Gurion declaring the country’s independence and his desire to shape it into a Zionist nation. That coupled with a scene of László’s relatives accusing the architect of having lost his Jewish identity can snowball some viewers into considering this epic as a pro-Zionist film.
It’s dangerous ground for any media to stand on at a time where Israel and Palestine are in another horrible conflict, but this critic would like to argue The Brutalist doesn’t strive for that interpretation, insisting that spectators listen to László’s response to his niece’s declaration in that late dinner scene, and also remember Gurion’s remarks were used to further emphasize László’s quest for power at a downtrodden point during his tenure in America.
However moviegoers choose to comprehend the thematic ongoings of Corbet’s latest, what’s clear is this: The Brutalist tells a story to which almost every immigrant can relate, one full of violence, deceit, outrageous injustices, and racism ranging from microaggressive to truly despicable. Audiences will be horrified by what László experiences, yearn for him to persevere through them all, be enthralled by the bombast of Daniel Blumberg’s score through its grand and quiet motifs, and come away with the film’s monumental message that a man’s destination that defines his legacy better than his journey toward success. It’s an idea that couldn’t be more appropriate for this era, and one that makes The Brutalist a timeless, unforgettable spectacle.