“Is that it?”
My gut asked this the moment The Brutalist ended following a jarring epilogue. And for the most part, I am still left largely unsatisfied with Brady Corbet’s grand 3 ½ hour American epic about The American Dream. But after some time to think about it, The Brutalist isn’t as disappointing as I initially made it out to be. Frustrating? You better believe it. But as a complete and utter failure. Absolutely not. It has nuances hidden via the small cracks beneath its feet. But instead of exploring and patching up those cracks, The Brutalist often feels like it’s somehow both ignoring and paying too much attention to them without doing anything to either enhance or repair them. Does that make sense? Yes. No. Sorry. I'm trying to figure out in real-time over here. But that's how The Brutalist made me feel. It scratches the surface but then lets the itch grow worse you as you leave not fully satisfied - yearning for a fuller meal as you inspect the scraps on the plate, trying to make sense as to why this has been almost universally praised as an epic masterpiece.
The Brutalist follows László Tóth (Adrien Brody), an architect and Holocaust survivor arriving in America in 1947 with hopes of pursuing the American dream. There, he eventually meets an eccentric wealthy businessman Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce), who offers him the chance to make his first American masterpiece.
The opening sequence of The Brutalist is astounding. A claustrophobic, head pounding, chaotic stumble through a wall of bodies and stairs as László makes his way up from the hull of a ship, finally being greeted by the Statue of Liberty, upside down and dangling above us as if she were some insurmountable object just within reach but impossible to grapple. And this is essentially what Corbet sets up for us in The Brutalist: a startling exercise on the chaos and anxiety of what The American Dream represents, and how that dream has slowly been taken away from the refugee/immigrant experience, with capitalism eventually feeding on and exploiting László and his ambitions as its hunger can never be satisfied. It sounds fucking great right? And for the most part, it really is. The first part of the film is among the most compelling films of 2024 as it slowly develops and sets up László Tóth’s journey that is wrought with struggle, heartache and exploitation.
But when the aforementioned cracks start widening in the second act, it feels as though Corbet doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Some of them become very intriguing parts of the architecture, instances of being ‘by design’ or just lucky accidents? But then, some of those cracks become so wide that they end up being empty voids for plot discrepancies to fall in, never to be discussed again and ignored as they wallow at the bottom of the pit, begging to be picked up to make sense of plot and character. Part 1 does such a great job in setting up what is to come, namely with the arrival of his wife and niece (Felicity Jones and Raffey Cassidy), but when they do arrive in Part 2, they often feel under-used and under-written in the grand scheme of things, occasionally driving the plot forward in significant areas, only to be ignored when certain revelations or character building beats do happen. It’s interesting to note that the film’s foundation begins to crumble once the intermission ends to make way for part 2. A lot of us got up to go get refreshments and empty our bladders during those valuable 15 minutes, but it’s almost as if Corbet did the same thing, only to forget all the details and features in order to make the puzzle whole. To make it make sense.
László Tóth’s descent into the belly of the beast that is capitalism is heightened in part 2. Definitely. But there are certain instances, particularly when they are in Italy where unearned moments come out of nowhere to heighten the conflict. In a film that is 3 ½ hours long, it’s frustrating when a powder keg goes off without any kind of setup as to how it got there in the first place. A fuse is set up in act one before it reaches its destination at the end of act 2 to set up the aftermath in act 3. I’m not saying surprises shouldn’t exist in film, but that fuse needs to work as a breadcrumb trail as well so that when we look back on where this all came from, we can find its sources. There are some crumbs there, sure. But unless pigeons have devoured most of them, not enough remains to warrant or earn its place as nothing other than a shocking moment for shock’s sake as a physical altercation has László succumbing to his capitalist master. It’s a clever and powerful sentiment set in place by Corbet that needed more set-up to convince me that a shocking moment is necessary for the character’s failure to keep a firm grip on his American Dream. It just doesn’t feel like an earned moment considering that not enough development or information has been provided for me to believe this jarring moment of character motive and action.
It’s a film that both needed to be cut down as well as being beefed up. There are so many moments that feel interrupted, as though we are cutting off limbs that would enrich the story and its characters and their motives, but then so many needless titbits that add very little to the story and its eventual destination. So much happens off-screen from conversations to important character development that would define characters as they go from one moment to the next. “It’s not about the journey, but the destination” (paraphrasing), is one of, if not the last line of the film (I’m blanking here sorry). And it both works and doesn’t as a mission statement to The Brutalist.
Zionism is discussed in moments throughout the film via radio broadcasts as well as eventual discussions made between him and his family. If you don’t read between the lines, you’d think the film is pro-Zionist, despite these being conversations that would be made between Jewish people during this period of time regardless, especially ones as displaced and unwelcome as these characters. But Corbet is clever in how he approaches the eventual outcome of this.
***SPOILERS In the film’s epilogue, the film takes a jarring jump ahead in time as they celebrate the life of László Tóth and his work. His niece Zsófia (confusing piece of recasting as Raffey Cassidy who originally played Zsófia is now playing his grandniece) gives a speech about her uncle - celebrating the many masterpieces he would complete in America following his turbulent relationship with the Van Buren family. Here, she talks mostly about that first masterpiece of his: the Van Buren monument. Throughout the film, we never understand the motives behind László’s designs, but we know that there is no real deeper meaning behind them other than aesthetics and practicality (at least this is what is shown to us on the surface). But here, she talks about how the building is a collection of memories and ideas formulated from his time in the concentration camps, how each crevice and curve stems back to his experience during the war as a Jewish man. László, now elderly and unwell in a wheelchair, is unable to speak for himself. Unable to confirm or deny if this is true. His Niece, who moved to Israel while he was battling to complete it, is now supposedly fabricating an entirely new meaning behind his works that likely don’t share that same meaning. It feels as though this is the narrative we are being fed by Israel, completely omitting the nasty details of what it took to become the state of Israel. In a film about displaced individuals struggling to find their identity, it's ironic that in this moment, that final identity is prefaced with a lie, devoid of the truth of what actually created it in the first place. And this doesn't just apply to Israel, but to almost any instance of history being rewritten by the victors, choosing to leave out the nasty discrepancies much like The Brutalist does for its characters and their plot development. SPOILERS***
It’s a fascinating epilogue that perfectly sums up the frustrations and successes of The Brutalist. A seemingly incomplete masterpiece suddenly made complete, ignoring all the bits and pieces that made it up in the first place, often refusing to show us the things that actually completed and defined it. “It’s not about the journey, but the destination”. This statement is so apt here, and it's a move that I'm still not quite sure if I like it or not. Is its seemingly lazily written second half intentional by Corbet? It feels as though Corbet is experiencing the same uphill László’s faces in getting his masterpiece made, only for him snap his fingers and it’s all conveniently done.
One thing's for sure though, it's immaculately made. Its photography and editing (for the most part) perfectly captures the journey of László through identity, displacement, uncertainty, addiction, obsession, anxiety, etc. This goes hand in hand with the production design, a character in itself as it grows and shifts along with László's internal and external struggle, eventually closing in on him as he cannot find a way to escape the monster that has mutated from The American Dream. The music is great as well, but unfortunately sometimes used with a heavy hand - misplaced in some scenes to generate emotion that feels disingenuous and just there to fill the silence. Performances range from great to kind of bad in places as well. And due to the controversy of AI being used to enhance some of the Hungarian accents, it makes the experience that much more confusing as it lays in the back of your mind, trying to figure out what has been used where ontop of some unconvincing dialogue that its performers can only do so much to deliver convincingly. But in saying that, when both Brody and Pearce are good, they're bloody fantastic.
The critics may not be split on this one, but I am. It's both painstaking and inert. And as mentioned before, I can’t quite figure out if it is intentional by Corbet. quick, lazy fixes to plug the holes throughout or genius insight and executions into the themes at play? But like all effective art, it polarises as I try to look at it from multiple angles in confusion, frustration, disdain and even admiration; searching for answers that may or may not be there. Only for me to finally get it years later. Or not. Time will tell.
Where you can watch it: In theatres (Worldwide).
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