The Brutalist

Pursuing the American Dream is an ambition of almost every immigrant who manages to make it to this country’s shores. Its realization can take many forms, too, depending on one’s circumstances. But, as many new arrivals discover for themselves, there’s no guarantee of success (or, at the very least, they may find that the journey can be more problematic than anticipated). One such story that provides the focus for this optimistic undertaking is the latest offering from writer-director Brady Corbet. The film follows the odyssey of László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a fictional Jewish Hungarian architect who flees Europe in 1947 after being interred in a concentration camp during World War II. He initially struggles to assimilate, to re-establish his career, and to find a way to bring his wife, Erzsebét (Felicity Jones), to America. But, despite these sundry challenges, his fortunes change drastically when he’s commissioned to design a high-profile mixed use community center with the generous support of a wealthy and powerful benefactor, a capricious, enigmatic industrialist (Guy Pearce) whose many impulsive, emotionally charged whims provide László with a firsthand introduction to the many possibilities and pitfalls tied to that elusive American Dream. In telling this story, the filmmaker explores the ups and downs associated with these themes, as well as an array of additional diverse story threads involving the protagonist’s professional pursuits and personal life. These combined elements make for an engaging and intriguing tale, even if some of the story arcs and character traits are unevenly developed. That sometimes includes the nature of László himself, which is somewhat perplexing given the production’s hefty 3:35:00 runtime (with an included intermission), a duration that should provide ample time for the picture to sufficiently flesh out its core narrative elements and character attributes. That shortcoming aside, though, “The Brutalist” has myriad strengths to its credit, including the fine performances of Pearce, Jones, Golden Globe Award winner Brody and a host of capable supporting players, along with its superb cinematography, stirring original score, and ably sustained pacing (quite a commendable feat for a film of this length). Admittedly, this offering’s solid opening act is far superior to its back half, which tends to sag at times as it wears on, but, on balance, this Golden Globe winner for best drama and best director generally holds up well. In an awards season that has had more than its share of dismal disappointments, it’s heartening to finally find a release that comes closer to approaching the standards that a film should embody to merit the kinds of accolades and attention such honorees truly deserve. It may not be perfect, but it’s a far sight better than many of its other 2024 cinematic peers.

Did this really need to be 3½ hours long? Well, no - I don't think so. As far as it goes, though, it features a stunning performance from Adrien Brody as fictional Hungarian architect "Tóth" who has manages to survive some torrid wartime experiences in Europe and make it to New York. He has family there, and that's the conduit to a meeting with the wealthy "Van Buren" (Guy Pearce) who decides that he wants him to design a public utility building - think Hearst Castle only without any style or shape to it. Indeed the title could very well be applied to his fascist style of bleak and angular artistry, but his new benefactor is prepared to commit £850,000 to the project so he's delighted. That's clearly to the chagrin of "Harry" (How Alwyn) whose role here is that of a meddlesome provoker as he he constantly tries to intervene between the architect and his father. "Van Buren" senior also manages to facilitate his repatriation with wife (Felicity Jones) and her niece "Zsófia" (Raffey Cassidy) but that doesn't quite go to plan either, and soon seems to further pile on the increasing misery for a "Tóth" who is treading on eggshells on all fronts now as he tries to build his charm-free edifice. The centrepiece of this is to be an altar stone, and for that he and his boss travel to the mountains of Carrara, rarely seen in film since Charlton Heston saw the ceiling of the Sistine in the clouds there. Here something shocking happens that ultimately changes the whole dynamic of that relationship and of the film itself. It's this last twenty minutes that I felt saw the wheels come off. The thrust of the story throughout appears to emphasise the man and his family as outsiders. As them being a means to an end and little better than a commodity to be used and abused as one of the "Van Buren" men see fit, but the drunken violence that concludes the story seems excessively designed to disgust for the sake to it. Why? I didn't get it, nor the consequent denouement. It's also interesting that much is being made of the VistaVision angle. That which put so many from Humphrey Bogart to John Wayne on the big screen decades ago now appears to have been "rediscovered" as if it were revelatory. Well it might help the photography, but not the story - and that begins to run out steam before the unnecessary (from a plot perspective) intermission. Part one offers a compelling look at obsession and the odious nature of patronage and hypocrisy. Part two isn't nearly so good, is more soapy and far less substantial - there is plenty going on but none of the threads really get the attention they need to make them interesting, or to ant them together cohesively. Brady Corbet has one hell of an imagination but perhaps this needed a more objective, and judicious, hand at the tiller. It's good, but it's not anything like as good as it's being hyped up to be. A big screen is essential, though. It will look depressingly ordinary on the television.