“The Brutalist” Awes and Inspires

The Brutalist (Brady Corbet, 2024) 4½ out of 5 stars

To use a word like monumental in describing a film that runs 215 minutes seems like an exercise in stating the obvious. Even if the concept flops, we can assume that the filmmaker’s intentions with such a length is to tell a story of some epic ambition. In the case of Brady Corbet’s third feature, The Brutalist, I am happy to report that, for the most part, ambition matches results.

This is a powerful work of fiction that draws inspiration from real-world events and people (using bits from various similar architects’ biographies) to deliver a fully engaging feast for the senses redolent with meaning (yet almost never heavy-handed in its themes). Corbet (Vox Lux), working closely with his real-life partner, Mona Fastvold (The World to Come)—a very fine director in her own right—with whom he has co-written all his features and to whom he gives full credit in the opening titles, has other equally talented collaborators, as well. Among them are editor Dávid Jancsó (Monkey Man), cinematographer Lol Crawley (The Humans), and composer Daniel Blumberg (The World to Come). Widescreen image (shot on the long-defunct VistaVision format) and intriguing sound come together in vivid combination, beautifully cut together.

And then there are the actors, all excellent, but with Adrien Brody (Asteroid City) forcefully leading the way as László Tóth, a Hungarian Jewish architect who arrives in the United States just after World War II, having barely survived the conflict and with his wife left behind somewhere in Europe. The only family he has in the country is his cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola, Amsterdam), married to an American woman and doing his best to blend in. Attila lives in Pennsylvania and runs a furniture warehouse. He hopes to use László’s skills as a designer to lend his business some class.

Things don’t quite go as planned, the first of many setbacks for László in what is clearly a ping-pong relationship with fate. A former star of the Bauhaus movement, he is barely scraping by now, though thanks to Attila he can at least attempt to practice his craft. Unfortunately, when the cousins are hired to renovate a wealthy industrialist’s home library, a miscommunication leads to that man, Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce, The Last Vermeer), kicking them out of the house without paying. It seems that Harrison Jr.—aka Harry (Joe Alwyn, Harriet)—the one who hired them, did a poor job preparing his father for what was to be a birthday gift.

That fiasco—plus László’s flirtation, real or imagined, with Attila’s wife—creates a rift between the cousins. We cut to 1951 (from 1947), and László is living in a barebones apartment with his friend and fellow drug addict (and possibly lover), Gordon (Isaach De Bankolé, The People We Hate at the Wedding), with whom he works at a construction site. Harrison père has had ample time to cool down and also learn to appreciate his library, which by now has been featured in magazines. He’s done his research, learned of László’s past renown, and wants to hire him for a—dare I use that word again?—“monumental” new project near his estate. He also offers to help bring László’s wife, Erzsébet, over to the U.S. (she has been found and is alive). With some initial reluctance, László accepts.

Cut to intermission (thank you, Corbet and Fastvold),, as we are halfway through the movie. Upon our return, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones, The Last Letter from Your Lover), arrives with her teenage niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy, The Other Lamb), assisting her. They both bear scars from the war: Erzsébet has osteoporosis thanks to the starvation she suffered, and Zsófia is mute, courtesy of her own psychic wounds. Still, a family they will try to make, though László and Erzsébet‘s sex life suffers from his drug use and conflicted sexuality. Still, she is there to build a new life, while László works to build Harrison’s dream building.

It’s a structure with evolving purpose, from art center, to library, to so much more. The scope of it and construction shifts, with more reversals in store ahead. This is a film that tackles the relationship of art to money, and vice versa, and how the voracious consumerist imperative of capitalism warps and devours all in its place. Still, in the movie’s coda, we see, years later, that László has succeeded in creating a legacy. Harrison was both a savior and the obstacle he needed to overcome. Art needs money, but it can also outlast it.

The Brutalist—the title refers to the 20^th-century architectural style known as Brutalism—goes off the rails at one point in its literal exploration of how capital exploits labor (in an over-the-top same-sex rape sequence), but beyond that misstep this is a profound narrative about the very nature of artistic expression. Those who can do, do, and those who can’t try to buy it. Corbet and Fastvold are also deeply interested in the role that immigrants shape in forming the future. In the epilogue, set at a retrospective of Laszlo’s work entitled “The Presence of the Past,” the no-longer mute Zsófia turns to the camera and says, “It is the destination, not the journey.” I’d say the journey counts for quite a lot, too, and at the end of the 215 minutes we are inspired and awed. That is what good cinema—great art—can accomplish.

Christopher Llewellyn Reed

Christopher Llewellyn Reed is a film critic, filmmaker, and educator, as well as Film Festival Today's Editor. A member of both the Online Film Critics Society (OFCS) and the Washington DC Area Film Critics Association (WAFCA), and a Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic, Chris is, in addition, lead film critic at Hammer to Nail and the author of Film Editing: Theory and Practice.