Courtesy of A24
With the release of “The Brutalist,” writer-director Brady Corbet strives for something achieved only by an ultra-exclusive group of filmmakers: the “great American epic.” Few and far between examples of these masterpieces include Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West,” Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather,” Paul Thomas Anderson’s “There Will Be Blood,” Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon” and even Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer.”
The great American epic is as rare of a phenomenon as it is culturally defining. Characterized superficially by lengthy runtimes and more accurately by expansive themes, the loosely defined “genre” interrogates and either upholds or indicts our notion of America.
To make a great American epic takes extreme, almost irrational ambition. For Corbet to make one on a measly $10 million budget, shoot it on VistaVision (which hasn’t been used in an American production since 1961) and do so on only his third feature film is downright insanity. For Corbet, however, that’s just another day at the office.
Bursting onto the scene with “The Childhood of a Leader” in 2015 and “Vox Lux” in 2018, Corbet has established himself as a fascinating yet controversial creative force. Both his previous films excel on a technical and conceptual level, but mileage may vary on their execution. While both movies are worthy of examination, they contain a central messiness that holds them back from masterpiece status.
“The Brutalist,” or at least its first half, forgoes that messiness. It’s an astonishing achievement that, despite ultimately falling a tier below the aforementioned classics, isn’t far behind. The trap of overpraising “The Brutalist” for its grand ambition is an alluring one, but also the least interesting angle to take. There are so many more engaging components, themes and flaws to explore.
Bifurcated by a well-placed intermission, the first half of “The Brutalist” tells the tale of Hungarian architect László Tóth, who immigrates to the United States and, in a stroke of good fortune, finds himself hired by the wealthy Harrison Lee Van Buren to build a massive community center. As the striking opening shot of the upside down Statue of Liberty may symbolize, this seemingly triumphant immigrant story is anything but triumphant, as the second half of the film literalizes and explicates the sinister undertones attached to a fantasy like that of the American Dream.
Thematically, “The Brutalist” has a lot on its mind. The film portrays the immigrant experience through the lens of a complex patron-artist relationship, a clear metaphor for Corbet himself as a director within the studio system. The ways in which the two parties exploit and revile while also simultaneously needing each other is the most fascinating part of the movie.
Perhaps the most effective way to analyze “The Brutalist” is to tackle each half independently. Part one is, to put it bluntly, incredible. There’s a cohesiveness and laser focus that recalls Anderson’s “The Master” and “There Will Be Blood.” On the other hand, part two features more of the characteristic Corbet messiness. The introduction of a new character disrupts the film’s focus and, as a result, transforms it into something far more alienating.
What remains consistent between both segments are the movie’s main strengths. AI concerns aside, Adrien Brody’s towering performance as László Tóth is most definitely Oscar-worthy. Equally outstanding are supporting turns by Guy Pearce as Van Buren, Felicity Jones as Erzsébet Tóth and Raffey Cassidy as Zsófia. Similarly, Lol Crawley’s stunning cinematography and Daniel Blumberg’s haunting score are exceptional. Penned by Corbet and his wife Mona Fastvold, the script is compelling in all its Faustian glory. Most impressive, however, is the pacing. Editor Dávid Jancsó creates an enrapturing, riveting rhythm that genuinely makes the four hours fly by.
“The Brutalist’s” narrative structure is supremely successful and serves as one example of Corbet’s greatest strength: marrying form with content. As things are going well for László in the first half, Corbet’s directorial style is accessible and invisible. Everything changes during the second half’s standout quarry sequence, where the shifting form — more handheld and shaky cam, jarring jump cuts and a more nightmarish tone — reflects the shifting narrative. The ways in which Corbet’s directorial style evolves to mirror and enhance the characters’ journeys firmly solidifies him as one of our best and brightest.
Issues arise in the second half of “The Brutalist,” with the arrival of Erzsébet Tóth. Corbet and Fastvold’s admirable attempts to avoid the stereotype of the underdeveloped wife splits the film’s focus. Every idea so subtly introduced in the first half is literalized and textualized to the most extreme extent in the second. While this serves as a purposefully obvious mirror to the destructive collapse of the American Dream, it makes the film distancing and difficult at points.
Fortunately, Corbet manages to bring things home with a phenomenal ending. The movie’s tragic final scene captures the unique horror of having one’s art and legacy co-opted and reframed to fit someone else’s agenda. This comes before the cherry on top of a darkly hilarious joke of an end credits song. It’s a genius capstone to the film’s many central ideas.
As László Tóth himself argues, there’s no better description of a cube “than that of its construction.” The best way to avoid the dangerous reframing of art is to experience it yourself. “The Brutalist” may not quite reach the same heights as other great American epics, but it is a fantastic work of art worth your time and thought.
9/10
“The Brutalist” is currently nominated for 10 awards at the upcoming Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director (Corbet), Best Actor (Brody), Best Supporting Actor (Pearce), Best Supporting Actress (Jones) and Best Original Screenplay.
