"Brutalist" is another "Oppenheimer": same story, way cheaper

Congratulations to Adrian Brody on winning the Oscar for Best Actor. It was all expected, and there weren't really any surprises. "The Brutalist" is completely within Adrian Brody's acting comfort zone. I must say, he's really suited to playing these emotionally shattered characters. If it weren't for him, I couldn't guarantee I would have sat through this 215-minute film.

Hollywood will truly give everything imaginable to portray the inner world of a talented but troubled man. The good news is that "Brutalist" proves you don't need hundreds of millions of dollars to make an epic story about a broken man - ten million dollars is enough.

Don't get me wrong, "Brutalist" isn't bad to watch. In fact, at first, its cinematography and music were both stunning and comfortable to me. But by the second half, I started losing patience. I could feel that the director wanted to express many things, but didn't delve deeply into any single theme. Towards the end, I even grew impatient with Brody's character, this fictional architect.

He frequently reminded me of "Oppenheimer." In my eyes, "Brutalist" is essentially the same story as "Oppenheimer." Both use elegant, intricate cinematography, music, and three and a half hours of screen time to portray the inner world of a talented but troubled man. And in the process, they question and lament the American Dream. However, while Oppenheimer is clearer but more monotonous in its thematic expression, Brutalist seems somewhat unfocused. "Brutalist" is divided into several chapters, each seemingly corresponding to a different state in the protagonist's life. Since the entire story is fictional, I can only assume that every plot point has its intended meaning.

In the first segment, a talented Eastern European Jewish refugee arrives in America, hoping to make his mark and find a place for his family to settle. While the radio broadcasts news of Israel's establishment, he, also Jewish, still struggles to find opportunities in America. The protagonist, a survivor, can neither let go of his past nor know where his future lies. The music and visuals maintain a gentle tone while concealing hints of unease and suppression.

In the second segment, after being kicked out by his middle-class cousin, he drifts between brothels, refugee camps, and construction sites until a wealthy businessman recognizes his talent. After much hesitation, the protagonist agrees to build a Catholic church for him. This is when the protagonist is at his most ambitious. However, the construction process goes poorly, with work halting due to accidents, and the protagonist falls into depression again. During this time, he also experiences rape by the businessman. The film's palette shifts from predominantly light blue to include black and gold. This segment sweeps away the freshness of the film's first hour, filling it with resentment and anger.

In the third segment, the church is finally completed, but the protagonist's value has been completely drained. Both he and his wife can only rely on drugs for pain relief. The film skips over later scenes, only providing an ending: years later, the scarred protagonist achieves notable influence in Venice, across the ocean. However, by then he is elderly, showing neither joy nor sorrow.

Compared to Oppenheimer, "Brutalist" doesn't try to give audiences that atomic bomb-like impact in its visual expression. The protagonist isn't positioned with the same historical importance as Oppenheimer was to his era. But in portraying the protagonist's inner brokenness, "Brutalist" puts in just as much effort as "Oppenheimer." From the moment the protagonist starts hiding in the bathroom to inject drugs, I could feel his despair. This sense of defeat and melancholy never dissipates, even as his real-world opportunities improve. Like his drug addiction, there's no turning point right up until the film ends.

By the middle and later parts of the film, I had completely lost interest and curiosity in how the protagonist's life would develop. What kept me watching were the performances, the meticulously crafted scenes, and the metaphorical fragments about "how capitalism crushes and exploits individuals." However, the director seemed to want to say too much through these metaphors: post-WWII Jewish immigration, religion, the American Dream, race, marriage and family, the fate of post-war art... each theme is only touched upon superficially, making none of them clear. The ambition is too great, but the execution seems cautious and hesitant to dig deeper. I wonder, if time constraints weren't an issue, could the director have completed his full thoughts and expression on any single one of these topics in this story? I doubt it.

The film's sobering artistic style and soundtrack offset some of the story's pretentiousness and bitterness. However, the three-and-a-half-hour runtime was genuinely difficult to endure, and by the end, I didn't feel deeply moved - I just wanted this increasingly self-indulgent story to end. Some might consider this a good anti-Hollywood film, a masterpiece full of interpretative space and aesthetic meaning. But for me, it still tells an old story that I'm tired of seeing. And I know that such stories will indeed gain recognition from the academy and become another part of Hollywood.

Just like this year's Oscars, and last year's, and the year before, and every year I can remember - they're all pretty much the same. What they favor most are stories like "Brutalist": men in pain, while women measure the world with their bodies.