At Sunday’s Golden Globes, “The Brutalist” was named best drama, with director Brady Corbet and star Adrien Brody taking home trophies as well. It’s a cinch that all three will be nominated for Oscars and all three might very well win and, indeed, there’s much to be admired about this ambitious, bold and epic awards-bait historical drama.
But as much as I appreciated Corbet’s vision and as much as I appreciated the performances by Brody and the stellar supporting cast, I didn’t feel “The Brutalist” merited its three-hour-and-35-minute running time, which includes a 15-minute intermission. Also, there was one late, major development that felt capricious and exploitative to me. (I’ll not give it away, but if you see the movie you’ll know exactly the scene I’m referencing.)
For those reasons, I feel it’s not a great film; it’s a good film with some great moments.
“The Brutalist” has the heft and scope of an historical biopic based on true events, but as was the case with Todd Field’s similarly acclaimed “Tár” from 2022, it’s pure fiction that draws on authentic experiences. (Certain elements of the film are also reminiscent of King Vidor’s adaptation of Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead,” starring Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal.)
In an explosive performance bundled in raw emotions, Brody is one László Tóth, a noted Jewish-Hungarian architect and Holocaust survivor who arrives in America in 1947 and must start all over again, while awaiting word about whether his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) has survived and will be able to join him. László makes his way to Philadelphia, where he is reunited with his cousin Attila (an excellent Alessandro Nivola) and Attila’s wife Audrey (Emma Laird), who takes an immediate dislike to László and doesn’t even try to hide her anti-Semitism. (Attila blithely explains to László that his furniture store is called Miller & Sons because “folks ... like a family business.” What’s left unsaid but is crystal clear is that those folks would prefer the family have a name like “Miller.”) The story of Attila and Audrey is so richly layered and intriguing that it could have been the basis for a standalone film.
László begins designing furniture for the store, and Attila picks up some extra work for them redoing the study in a mansion — a project that goes terribly wrong, until the owner of estate, the blustery millionaire and power broker Harrison van Buren (Guy Pearce, great), learns of László’s reputation and hires him to design a sprawling community center that will become a landmark of brutalist architecture.
Harrison essentially adopts László, trotting him out at parties and even using his political contacts to facilitate the arrival of Erzsébet, who is in a wheelchair due to osteoporosis, and their orphaned niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), who has become mute. While László has endured hard times over these years, it’s nothing compared to what Erzsébet and Zsófia have been through. The family is eternally grateful to Harrison, but there’s something uncomfortable and off-putting about the way he treats them, as if they’re human curios. (Harrison’s adult son Harry, played by Joe Alwyn, is a petulant creep with designs on Zsófia, while his daughter Maggie, played by Stacy Martin, is a kind and sympathetic soul.)
With the gorgeous cinematography by Lol Crawley and the great production design by Judy Becker creating a wholly viable and believable setting, “The Brutalist” moves through the middle of the 20th century, with László becoming increasingly volatile and unstable as the project grows ever more expensive and is stalled by one problem after another. Work on the center eventually comes to a halt after a terrible train derailment.
Years later, Harrison contacts László and sells him on the idea of resuming construction, which leads to a bizarre and nightmarish sequence in Carrara, Italy. This is where we get that previously mentioned plot development that comes out of nowhere and feels like a literal expression of a character dynamic that’s already been well established. It took me out of the movie with such force that it lessened the impact of so much of what we had already experienced.
In the final segment that serves as epilogue, “The Brutalist” regains its footing and delivers a moving and satisfying final chapter in the lives of László and those closest to him. Even with the occasional stumble and that self-indulgent running time, this is a unique and at times brilliant piece of work.
