The most shocking aspect of The Brutalist is that its writer/director, Brady Corbet, is 36, and apparently spent close to a decade ensuring that the film would get made. Although it was crafted on a low budget of $10 million, The Brutalist is a film that a director might spend their entire career building towards. Corbet’s an inventive auteur interested in deconstructing controversial subjects; he examined a young fascist in his debut The Childhood of a Leader, and showcased the connection between gun violence and celebrity in his disturbing pop musical Vox Lux. However, The Brutalist is a film that’s so formally ambitious that it warrants comparison with masterpieces like Apocalypse Now and The Deer Hunter.
There’s no shortage of long movies within the last few years, as many filmmakers have had to prove that their projects are “worthy” of getting a widespread theatrical release in an era where so much is delivered directly to streaming. However, the films that run over three hours do so because of an existing relationship with an established intellectual property; The Batman was the newest chapter in a superhero saga, and Avatar: The Way of Water was a sequel to the highest-grossing film of all-time. Even more artful films like Oppenheimer and Killers of the Flower Moon had the benefit of being based on true stories, and had the added value of drawing inspiration from popular non-fiction novels.
The Brutalist is the vision of Corbet and his co-writer Mona Fastvold. The story begins in 1947, where the Hungarian-Jewish architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) emigrated to America after surviving the Holocaust. Although his goal is to eventually reunite with his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), László finds it difficult to find work in the competitive business scene in Philadelphia. László’s talents as an architect end up drawing the attention of the young aristocrat Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn), who hires him to build a new reading room for his father, Harrison (Guy Pearce). Harrison initially objected to the surprise construction within his home, but becomes enamored with the unique abilities that László possesses.
There’s not a specific historical figure that The Brutalist is drawing from, but the examination of the decline of the American dream is as old as Citizen Kane or The Godfather. László represents the spirit of an immigrant who comes to the “land of freedom” with the hopes of building a better future, but ends up trapped under the control of a member of the power elite. László gives up his life and creative ambitions for the sake of appeasing someone who wants to consume every part of his identity; over the course of the film, he’s stripped of his individuality, Jewish heritage, and sense of belonging. Architectural metaphors can generally be obvious to spot, but the notion that László is in a prison of his own creation is perfectly suited for a film with this much on its mind.
The first half of The Brutalist is aggressive in its pacing, as László works tirelessly to take advantage of the brief window of opportunity that he’s granted. It’s inevitable that the second half is much sadder, more contemplative, and deftly paced; The Brutalist sinks to moments of heartbreak that wouldn’t have been possible had the viewer not spent so much time with its protagonist.
Adrien Brody faced the issue of peaking early, as his breakout role in Roman Polanski’s Holocaust drama The Pianist made him the youngest Best Actor in the history of the Academy Awards at age 29. Brody’s the type of performer who’s committed to walking within his characters’ shoes that most filmmakers were unequipped to utilize him; the soul-bearing vulnerability he showcased in The Pianist doesn’t have the same impact if it's part of populist fare like Predators or The Village. With The Brutalist, Brody lives within László’s every thought as he steadily becomes the husk of a man. This year has seen great performances from Ralph Fiennes in Conclave and Colmon Domingo in Sing Sing, but Brody deserves a second Oscar for his career-defining work.
The Brutalist is a film that will stand the test of time, which makes it such an impressive achievement for a filmmaker as young as Corbet to capture such a diversity of existentialist themes. There are allusions to current events that can be drawn, as the film can be viewed as an encapsulation of Jewish guilt or a soliloquy for artists who’ve sold their souls to big business. Nonetheless, the concept of greed consuming all is a theme that harkens back to the work of Charles Dickens and Shakespeare. Corbet took a timeless truism and filtered it through the history of America, and was able to capture the collective “loss of innocence” that the nation faced in the post-World War II era.
While there’s reason to believe that no film should be proclaimed an all-time great so shortly after its debut, The Brutalist speaks for itself. The only drawback that the film will face is any backlash to the uncompromising cynicism of Corbet’s vision. Beneath the breathtaking spectacle of The Brutalist is the frank assertion within the line that ends the film: “It’s not about the journey, it’s the destination."
