The Brutalist: Devised To Endure Erosion

When I’m really looking forward to seeing a film, I watch every single trailer, interview, and behind-the-scenes featurette that I can find leading up to its release (multiple times over, might I add). I realize that by doing this I run the risk of tainting my eventual viewing experience. However, I’ve always been good at parking my preconceptions at the theatre door and engaging with projects as impartially as possible. Brady Corbet’s cinematic monument The Brutalist is one film I’ve been fiendishly anticipating for months now. Yet, despite my eagerness, when I took my seat to watch it a few days ago, I was as unslanted as a precisely cut slab of Carrara marble. As a result, I can unequivocally say that it was the best film I’ve seen since Oppenheimer.

If you’re expecting to be eased into the world of The Brutalist, you’re in for a big surprise. The film’s first ten minutes — designated the “Overture” for structural purposes — are arguably its most harrowing. From the cramped bowels of a transatlantic ship en route to New York we follow Hungarian-Jewish Holocaust survivor László Tóth as he claws and scrapes his way to the deck and his first whiff of rejuvenating American air. As if to emphasize the hopefulness of the moment, the first thing László sees as he steps off the boat is the Statue of Liberty — but from an odd, disorienting low-angle. It's a poetic image that seems to double as a pointed critique of the illusory promise of the so-called American Dream. All of this is set to Daniel Blumberg’s magnificent score (more on this later), which goes from sonic maelstrom to industrial pulse to triumphant finish in a matter of moments.

From the Overture, we move into the first part of the story proper, aptly titled “The Enigma of Arrival.” Of the film’s two halves, this was definitely the better. As many immigrants likely experienced at the time, László initially struggles to find his footing, often set back by his race, religion, or class every time he makes a little headway. It isn’t until the wealthy businessman Harrison Lee Van Buren learns of László’s past life as a Bauhaus-trained architect — and hires him to build a recreation centre in his mother’s honour — that his fortunes change. Interestingly, Van Buren’s entrance signals a palpable shift in the film’s tone and pace — who would’ve thought that introducing such a stereotypically American character into the fray would have that effect 🤔😅. The first half also features some of the film’s sharpest dialogue, especially in the scenes where László and Van Buren are getting to know one another.

The second part of the story, entitled “The Hard Core of Beauty,” doesn’t hit in quite the same way as the first, but it is still damn good. László’s wife, Erzsébet, and niece, Zsófia, finally join him in America, and with them they bring several more opportunities for the audience to contemplate and reflect. Simultaneously, time — as it always does — starts to wear down the characters and their relationships, stripping away their ornamentation and leaving only their foundations behind. There are also a few “pin drop” moments in the second half that almost single-handedly elevate the film from very good to great.

It goes without saying, but because I think he’s the most deserving nominee for the Best Actor Oscar, I’m going to heap even more praise on him: Adrien Brody is remarkable as László Tóth! From his in-your-face accent to his never-quite-welcome-at-the-table body language, he nails every aspect of the performance. Despite doing several unlikeable things, you can’t help but root for László and be fascinated by him — a sign of both a well-written character and an incredible performance. Guy Pearce and Felicity Jones are equally fascinating as Van Buren and Erzsébet, even if their characters have fewer dimensions to them. Joe Alwyn is worth mentioning as well; he really makes you dislike his character, and that’s the best compliment I can give him.

All of The Brutalist's technical elements are worthy of applause, especially considering the film’s modest budget, but the two I’d like to single out are the score and cinematography. Each piece of music Blumberg wrote for the film is impressive on its own, and together, they form a larger composition that, for my money, ranks among the 21st century's great film scores. That industrial pulse I mentioned earlier (which also features heavily in the film’s trailer) floats in and out at just the right moments, making you feel as if it's always there — even when it's not. The few pieces of soundtrack used are also integrated seamlessly. As for the cinematography, it’s undeniably deserving of all the attention it's receiving. Every kind of scene, from the intimate to the grand, shines in the VistaVision format, with some truly memorable shots — like the steam train explosion — standing out.

I’ll concede that a lot is going on thematically in The Brutalist, and I can understand why some people left feeling overwhelmed or indifferent. But for me, all of the themes interact to produce something nourishing rather than off-putting or even detrimental. The topics — from the immigrant experience and our fear of the “other” to the relationship between art and commerce and the minimalism-maximalism dynamic — are timeless, and the conversations they inspire are ones we’ve been having and will continue to have for decades to come. The nuance, of course, lies in how we arrive at these conversations, and in that regard, The Brutalist certainly takes us on a unique journey.

If I had one issue with The Brutalist it would be the “Epilogue.” I’m not against the idea of an epilogue, per se, but I think the one we were provided with wasn’t as good as it could’ve been. First and foremost, it was unnecessarily jarring seeing another actor play adult Zsófia while the same actor who played young Zsófia in the rest of the film (Raffey Cassidy) instead played adult Zsófia’s daughter. Considering they added almost forty years to László through the use of hair and makeup, I was confused as to why they couldn't just do the same to Zsófia. Beyond this, everything else about it felt weird — tonally it didn’t jive, aesthetically it looked cheap, and intellectually I don’t think it was as profound as it aimed to be. I get that by that point in the story we’ve moved to the 80s and an entirely different zeitgeist, but I think being thrust into that era immediately following the events of part two’s culmination weakens the psychological and emotional blow that Erzsébet‘s accusation and Van Buren’s subsequent disappearance deliver.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed all of the spectacle and showmanship on offer in The Brutalist, and come Academy Awards time, I will be cheering for it with the passion of a Philadelphia sports fan. Should it lose in any of the categories it's nominated in, I will riot like one, too!

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