The Brutalist: Film Review

Something we have learned about Hollywood over the years is that, no matter how long ago it may be, and no matter how many years pass, Hollywood and Awards season LOVE movies about World War II. So, what do you get when you have a sprawling, decades-spanning, nearly four-hour-long World War II epic about the American dream told from the perspective of a Jewish immigrant? I can say, confidently, quite a bit.

The Brutalist is, through and through, a large cinematic accomplishment; without question, it is pure cinema. Broken up into two parts (including a built 15-minute intermission) and accompanied by a very short and inconclusive epilogue, Brady Corbet’s third feature film is a truly American cinematic experience, and I say that without any hesitation or affliction. The Brutalist tells the tale of a truly brutal and unexpectedly tragic yet alluded life of once famed architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a man who left his family in Budapest, to pursue the American dream and a better life in America, specifically Philadelphia, the industrial centre of America in the 1950’s and 60’s.

The first part of the film, aptly titled The Enigma of Arrival, is a completely unprecedented start to the film, highlighting the complete unpredictability of the events following László, from his arrival to the journey of getting his family home with him in America.

Guided by the few family members able to make their way to the new promised land, Lászlo finds shelter and a home as well as a job with his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nicola) and his wife Audrey (Emma Laird). Through a few small and inconsistent jobs, László comes into contact and is given the task of renovating an affluent tycoon American businessman’s library, Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce), as facilitated by his son Harry Lee Jr. (Joe Alwyn), while away on a business trip. When Harrison arrives to much dismay, he forcefully kicks out László, Attila and their trusted friend and labourer Gordon (Isaach De Bankolé) from the home immediately. It isn’t until many weeks later that Harrison’s newly renovated study is alluded to and glorified, which forces Harrison to seek out László, and surprisingly hire him to entrust László with the Devine opportunity to construct a community centre immortalizing Harrison’s late mother. Once László agrees to Harrison’s offer, the two men embark on a very bizarre, albeit truly toxic relationship filled with instances of power struggles, abuse, and a symbolic parallelism to the very real struggles of the American dream many immigrants during that time are forced to confront with wealthy and old money employers.

The first two hours of The Brutalist are quite brilliant, monumental and epic in every sense imaginable. Almost reminiscent of Paul Thomas Anderson’s incomparable American epic There Will Be Blood, The Brutalist shows very strong glimmers and cracks that could potentially become just as powerful as the aforementioned film. With so much promise and momentum following the film into the second half, the audience is left with a family portrait with an intermission and timer, before Lászlo’s wife’s arrival.

In the second half of the film, poorly titled The Hard Core of Beauty, The Brutalist starts to completely fall apart. Understandably, Corbet portrays the American dream much like a nightmare, and the symbolic hyperboles between his commentary and the images on the screen, while powerful, don’t hold the staggering potential or compassion found in the first half of the film. We learn quickly that the relationship between Lászlo and his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), is anything but idealistic, voiding one another of affection, physical touch or genuine love, the relationships in László’s life begin to completely fall apart, and László begins becoming a tolerable character rather than a character we empathize with; constantly drowning himself with drugs, alcohol and heroin. László’s journey becomes a ratty and scummy account of the nightmarish holes many immigrants who enter America in a post-world war Europe were exposed to, giving validity and authenticity to Corbet’s truly tormented vision.

Things take a turn for the worse between László and Harrison following a trip to Carrara, Italy in search of Harrison’s fantasies and vision for the grandeur walls of marble for his beloved community centre. What transpires is a vile and unforgivable exchange between the two men that determines the course of the narrative and emotions between the two men and the character structure between both Harrison and László; and then becomes a very misguided portrait of defiance and dominance between the two men. After the trip to Italy, László and Harrison are never seen on screen together again, and stylistically, I understand Corbet’s reasoning, but for the sake of the film, this is a huge misstep for the narrative’s flow and finale.

It becomes apparent quickly that the true brutalist in the film is not one person or entity within the frames of the film but the United States of America itself. Highlighting the very real and enduring struggle for immigrants, the power of old money and of course, the age-old concept of being different and how people’s differences become more of a crutch in the real world. The Brutalist is embedded in reality, a very harsh and unapologetically unforgiving reality, and the differences that Marvel and Disney try to shove down our throats are not the differences that allow László to flourish as an artist, human being and a man overall.

While the efforts of Corbet are quite admirable, and his vision and style are evolving, The Brutalist remains a film that soars leaps and bounds thanks mainly to its cast, most notably Brody and Pearce.

Brody elevates himself to new heights and surpasses his acting leaps and bounds from his performance in The Pianist. Brody’s understanding of post-war trauma and the ripple effect of violence and inhumanity just barely scratches the surface of László Tóth, a tormented man with more secrets and traumas outside his war-torn country than that of his characters in The Pianist, Wladyslaw Szpilman, who experienced all of the horrors of war inland.

While Brody shines as Tóth, Pearce gives an impeccable and shattering performance as the perfect self-made American aristocrat who feels like he is giving back to the people of a building country, although his natural racist, social and political ignorances shine through to László and his family and offer anything but comfort. Pearce gives his best work since Memento.

The Brutalist starts off as one of the year's best cinematic experiences in recent memory but is then halted by a momentum-killing intermission. The film then dilutes itself into a narrative rummaging and in desperate need and attention for self-pity and tragedy, without much of a payout or real conclusion resolving or even addressing the main character’s mammoth-size conflict and traumas, and conceals it with a very disheartening and undervalued conclusion that seems both misleading and insulting to its audience. Maybe because of Corbet’s artistic decision to elongate the runtime of the feature, in order to add to the film’s grand nature and depth, many felt a need to find brilliance in the feature and allude it for its bold and long-winded commentary, but by the time the final credits roll, The Brutalist’s final scenes seems more like an unwanted payout to an audience Corbet self-proclaims as brilliant, then disillusions us and feeds us an ignorant ending with a desperate sense and need for an almost desirably happy Hollywood ending, that had no right being given. The Brutalist, form its second act to final frames, loses momentum and its monumental stature, only to become a shivering and wrinkled up old imitation of other American epics before it. Perhaps, due to the elongated runtime of the feature, many feel a need to find brilliance by the time the final credits roll, but The Brutalist seems more like an unwanted payout to an audience Corbet self-proclaims as brilliant, then feeds as ignorant and in need and almost desirably desperate for a happy Hollywood ending, that had no right being given.

Night Film Reviews: 6/10

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