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“The Brutalist” is an epic drama that follows the life of fictional Hungarian Jewish emigrant and Bauhaus architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) in the United States after World War II. The film navigates the harsh duality of Tóth’s reality over the course of 30 years — the triumphs of the American dream he expected and the pitfalls of the immigrant experience that await him. Despite boasting a seemingly excessive runtime of three hours and 35 minutes, “The Brutalist” remains captivating in its entirety, particularly with the help of a unique but necessary 15-minute intermission that divides the film’s two parts.
This mammoth of a movie explores many themes but primarily focuses on Tóth’s experience as both an immigrant and an artist in a country that is simultaneously obsessed with exploiting his architectural prodigy while oppressing his identity. Shortly after arriving in Philadelphia, Tóth begins working for his cousin’s furniture business. He is commissioned by Harry Lee Van Buren Jr. (Joe Alwyn), a wealthy industrialist infatuated with architecture, to surprise the pompous young man’s father, Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce). Though challenging, Tóth’s genius eventually gets Van Buren Sr. to recognize his skill, thrusting him into the world of U.S. magnates.
However, the relationship between the men quickly establishes itself as a microcosm of the capitalist exploitation the movie seeks to criticize. Tóth is clearly viewed as expendable — the mastery of his craft is all that secures his acceptance among the elites. His patron, the older Van Buren, is a conniving and exploitative tycoon whose evil nature lies beneath a sugar-sweet facade of friendliness; he is the paradigm of capitalist immorality.
Brody is incredible as Tóth, infusing the character with a look of perpetually lingering wistfulness in his eyes and a certain aloofness that renders him only truly decipherable through the examination of his art. The most impressive performance, though, lies in Pearce’s Van Buren. In what might be his career-defining role, Pearce seamlessly weaves together gravitas and frivolity to create a truly frightening embodiment of sleazy affluence at its worst. Felicity Jones plays László’s wife, Erzsébet, adequately, though her character’s steadfastness feels rather contrived, particularly in the second half of the film.
László’s relationship with his art offers further depth to the trope of the obsessed artist; he truly is “The Brutalist,” as his signature architectural style is entirely inextricable from his own lived experiences and identity. He is entirely consumed by Van Buren Sr.’s commission and becomes willing to give whatever it takes to fully realize his vision.
Van Buren Sr., who requires that Christian iconography be included in his community-oriented vision, completely overlooks the true meaning of László’s project. The dynamic illustrates how capitalism commodifies creativity, relying on the irony of a structure that was intended to be representative of the greater nation but ultimately centered on a specific religion.
Unfortunately, the film’s last few minutes manage to spoil the otherwise outstanding experience. A monologue delivered in the epilogue quite literally spells everything out, as though the audience hasn’t just sat through this colossus of a movie absorbing that very message. Sure, some of the specifics regarding the design of the building mentioned in this sequence might not have been evident, but the perfunctory manner in which they are delivered is frankly upsetting.
Some other choices, like the needlessly blunt insertion of archival newsreel audios throughout to explain the likes of Philadelphia and heroin, detracted from the movie’s quality. Nonetheless, “The Brutalist” deserves the extensive praise it has received. Beyond the incredible feat that is remaining interesting for its entire runtime, the film is simply a beautiful art piece to witness insofar as its stunning visuals and triumphant score.
Though not as centered on Brutalism as the title might suggest, the sequences that focus on the architecture render it brilliant no matter your opinion on Brutalist architecture, a style known to garner mixed opinions. The score only enhances the visual composition, which makes the haunting beauty of this architectural style not only accessible but tangible.
This is a film that demands to be seen in theaters to truly experience the looming monoliths and vastness of the Brutalist architecture (I saw it in IMAX and urge you to do the same).
Don’t let the duration scare you — “The Brutalist” may be gargantuan in its length, but it is equally so grand in its content and visually unparalleled cinematography, which could make even Lau worth beholding.