There are movies that generate excitement, and then there are movies like ‘The Brutalist,’ a 215-minute epic that ignites such fervor that during intermission, as a countdown clock ticks down to the second half, the audience erupts in a thunderous chant: ‘Five, four, three, two… one!’ The first half of Brady Corbet’s film stands as the most electrifying cinematic experience at this year’s Venice Film Festival. It chronicles the journey of Hungarian Jewish architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) who, after being liberated from a concentration camp, embarks on a new life in America. He finds himself living in poverty, but soon receives a commission from an enigmatic tycoon (Guy Pearce) to construct a monumental community center in rural Pennsylvania. Simultaneously, Tóth works tirelessly with his lawyers to secure immigration papers for his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and niece Zsofia (Raffey Cassidy) to join him – all while battling a growing heroin addiction and facing the rising tide of antisemitism.
Sequences capturing the sounds and textures of industrial America – the clang of steel girders, the roar of a smelting furnace – drew audible gasps from the audience. In the quieter moments, a pin drop could be heard, highlighting the film’s immersive atmosphere. It’s utterly gripping and earns every minute of its runtime, in no small part due to knockout performances by Brody, Jones, and Pearce. Brody’s portrayal of suffering and resilience, reminiscent of his Oscar-winning turn in ‘The Pianist,’ is captivating. Jones masterfully portrays a woman whose outward charm and intelligence mask the simmering anger at the injustices inflicted upon them in America. (A particularly powerful scene finds her confronting the wealthy family that has been their patrons, her pent-up fury finally exploding.) But it’s Pearce who nearly steals the show as the preening, mustachioed mogul Harrison Lee van Buren. He initially provides moments of comic relief with his smooth-talking advances towards Tóth – ‘I find you very intellectually stimulating,’ he repeats during various dinner parties, a line that takes on a chilling resonance by the film’s end – before revealing himself as a monstrous embodiment of brutality and greed. Let’s just say that the race for Best Supporting Actor at next year’s Oscars already has a frontrunner.
The technical work in ‘The Brutalist’ is equally impressive. Shot entirely in VistaVision (the vibrant, richly textured film stock favored by Alfred Hitchcock) by Lol Crawley, and screened in 70mm on a film projector, the film offers a sumptuous visual experience. An opening sequence that follows Tóth from the dank underbelly of a trans-Atlantic steamer ship out into the vast open sky, before a shaky hand-held camera lands on the Statue of Liberty, seen upside down, is thrilling. Considering the film’s likely modest budget, its scale is immense, with the sets for the mausoleum-like architectural marvel at the heart of the narrative being truly astonishing. The avant-garde musician Daniel Blumberg, who previously scored the 2020 film ‘The World to Come’ (directed by Mona Fastvold, Corbet’s wife and co-writer on ‘The Brutalist’), delivers a soundtrack that seamlessly blends tinkling jazz horns and piano with bellowing, cinema-shaking blasts of brass and drums, perfectly reflecting the tumult within Tóth’s psyche.
While ‘The Brutalist’ isn’t without its flaws, and it doesn’t quite stick the landing, the film’s shortcomings are easily overshadowed by its many strengths. The ending leans a bit too ambiguous, with a disappointing lack of resolution for Jones and Pearce’s characters, and a jarring jump three decades ahead to an epilogue that, while stylish, leaves viewers feeling disoriented and disengaged from the haunting atmosphere of the preceding narrative. (However, on the subject of style, whoever designed the exquisite, Bauhaus-inspired opening and end credits deserves a special mention.) ‘The Brutalist’ may bite off more than it can chew, but what a pleasure it is to see a filmmaker take such bold swings and, for the vast majority of the film’s runtime, hit home run after home run.
After leaving the screening, I was curious to see if ‘The Brutalist’ was on any awards pundits’ radar, but searching through industry publications and blogs, it was nowhere to be found. Expect that to change soon. For one, the film is Academy catnip: the story of an immigrant grappling with the complexities of the American dream, featuring dazzling performances from several previously nominated (and often overlooked) actors, and some of the most brilliant and inventive production design seen in any film this year, courtesy of Judy Becker. (And some very good accent work, too.) It even carries contemporary resonance, with immigration policy being a hot-button issue in the Trump campaign’s attacks against Kamala Harris, and the film’s (somewhat vague) stance on Zionism and the allure of Israel as a land of salvation for Jewish people facing oppression and discrimination in America. The troubled relationship between Tóth and van Buren subtly serves as a wider indictment of the relationship between capitalism and the arts, foreshadowing a world where creatives are censored by the political whims of their patrons, and families who cause enormous, intentional devastation can launder their image by placing their name above museum halls.
What truly makes ‘The Brutalist’ a genuine awards contender – in my opinion, at least – is its staggering ambition. Overhearing conversations as I left the screening, the general consensus seemed to be, ‘They don’t make movies like this anymore.’ (Well, it seems they do: Corbet just made one.) While the film takes cues from classics – it’s a bit of Werner Herzog’s ‘Fitzcarraldo,’ with a touch of Ayn Rand – it most reminded me of Paul Thomas Anderson’s ‘There Will Be Blood,’ with its epic scope, ominous atmosphere, towering performances, and unflinching look into the dark, putrid heart of an unchecked American strain of avarice. Still, I appreciate the sentiment, and in some ways, they don’t often make movies like this anymore. Not only in terms of scale, but also its intriguing moral ambiguity. If there’s one recurring theme throughout this year’s Venice Film Festival – from the murky sexual politics of ‘Babygirl’ to the meta take on celebrity offered by Angelina Jolie in ‘Maria’ – it’s that filmmakers shouldn’t be afraid to challenge, or at least complicate, the prevailing social norms of our time. Brody’s architect attempts to make sense of the world through the neat metaphor of modernist architecture, but the cruelty and capriciousness of the power dynamics that dictate his life will never grant him that luxury. In a way, this notion justifies the film’s weaker moments: Tóth’s creative vision may be flawless and pure, but the vagaries of human existence are anything but.
