Film Review: The Brutalist
Film
The Brutalist
Director: Brady Corbett
Brookstreet Pictures, Kaplan Morrison
In Theaters: 01.17
The history of American filmmaking is based in no small part in the legacy of the sprawling epics of the ‘40s through the ‘60s, and the history of America itself is based on the immigrant experience. The two histories converge in director Brady Corbett’s audacious film, The Brutalist.
Set in mid-20th century America, The Brutalist follows Hungarian-Jewish architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody, The Pianist, King Kong), a Holocaust survivor seeking to rebuild his life after fleeing Europe. Arriving at Ellis Island, László faces displacement and hardship, living with his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola, The Many Saints of Newark, The Room Next Door) while struggling to establish himself. László’s talent catches the eye of wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce, LA Confidential, Memento), who commissions an ambitious project, setting the stage for a tumultuous partnership. As László dreams of reuniting with his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, On The Basis of Sex) and niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy, Tomorrowland), he conceives intricate designs and strives to build not only structures, but a future and a legacy. Over the years, and eventually with his family by his side, László’s navigates the challenges of ambition, identity, and the harsh realities of the American Dream.
The Brutalist is a grandiose and expensive film that combines the old Hollywood style with the freedom of post-Hayes Code filmmaking, portraying a far harsher world than we ever saw in the works of David Lean or the other pioneers that it invokes. There’s some graphic content here, as Corbett takes an unflinching approach: a sexual assault that serves as a less than subtle metaphor for the way the rich and powerful use and abuse immigrants, building empires on their backs while degrading them. The plot device makes its point but is rather heavy handed, and whether it was really necessary is debatable (I’m not the biggest fan of rape being brazenly used as a metaphor). The film is also longer than it needs to be, with the 215-minute runtime split into two parts with a 15-minute intermission, and this is a movie that you’re going to need to plan your day around seeing. That being said, with its stunningly sumptuous cinematography, shot in 35mm VistaVision and printed to 70mm, the painstaking production design and the rich characterizations and performances, it’s essential viewing for the modern cinephile. Corbett may be lacking in subtlety, but certainly not in ambition or vision, and he’s created a powerful drama with a lot to say about human nature, the hard realities of the American dream and the scars that we get and inflict as we obsess over leaving our mark on the world.
Brody is sensational as László— his best leading role since his Oscar win 22 years ago — and he brings an emotional depth and pained melancholy to the character, combined with fierce determination and obsessive genius. Pearce is a highly talented actor who can be unbelievably lowkey or hammily over-the-top depending on the role, and as Van Buren, he finds a mesmerizing balance between the two that recalls Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood, and ranks among the most noteworthy supporting performances of his career. Perhaps most enjoyable and endearing is Jones as Erzsébet, a woman whose physical frailty hides an underestimated strength, and she deserves more individual attention than she’s getting for her work here.
The Brutalist is brutal indeed, and it’s not a movie that’s likely to connect with mass audiences. It’s a praiseworthy achievement, however, and one that signals the arrival of a significant new A-list director. It’s also timely, hitting theaters only days before a new era of mass deportations, capitalist oligarchy and manipulation of the American dream begins, and if The Brutalist reminds even one person that this country was built by and belongs to the huddled masses yearning to breathe free at least as much as it does those who were born here, that’s worth more than any number of Oscars or accolades. —Patrick Gibbs
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