Cert – 18, Run-time – 3 hours 35 minutes, Director – Brady Corbet
Jewish Hungarian architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) arrives in America shortly after World War II, putting his various disconnects and traumas of the past into a giant passion project for a wealthy client (Guy Pearce).
Many have commented on the surprise that The Brutalist only had a budget of $10 million. The surprise is more than justified. Not for what seems to be the display of a big budget from start to finish throughout Brady Corbet’s 3-and-a-half hour epic, but for the scale and scope of it. A multi-segmented concrete tower grows both out of and into the ground, passionately pieced together by Jewish Hungarian architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody). Arriving just outside of Philadelphia shortly after World War II László is shaken by the tragedy of the past, particularly that which continues his separation, at the hands of the Nazis, from his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) and niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), although communicating with them via letters for much of the first half of the film.
The work at hand is commissioned by wealthy industrialist Harrison Van Buren (Guy Pearce), a multi-functional community centre in honour of his late wife. László becomes obsessed with the years-long project, his work kicked back into gear after working on a surprise library room for Harrison from his increasingly standoffish son Harry (an understated and scene-stealing Joe Alwyn). Brody plays the central character as aware of his skills and achievements, and yet not their grandness – humble doesn’t quite seem the right word – until the faltering of the American Dream, and others stepping in his way with their ways of cutting costs and changing the design in the process. Addiction and illness begin to appear as the past begins to haunt its way into his work.
The technical departments shine all the way throughout The Brutalist. Brought together by Corbet’s emotionally tuned direction the look – the cinematography and production design compliment each other with great precision – and sound of the film is meticulously crafted and has its own intensity. Wrapping you in the grey and muddy landscapes and environments in which László finds himself in, forging ahead with a project for which he has undescribed personal feelings and passions. Daniel Blumberg’s score captures some of his fractured and haunted inspirations and feelings, used gently throughout yet having a profound effect, it’s a deserving frontrunner for this year’s Original Score Oscar.
Even the decision to include a 15-minute intermission pretty much exactly halfway through the film, dividing up the two distinct halves of the narrative, has a strong effect on the film and the overall arc. Whilst additionally creating no disturbance to the flow, I found myself absorbed straight back into the proceedings once the countdown was over. The film as a whole is wonderfully edited with each scene or sequence feeling perfectly paced. Yes, you could probably cut out certain moments that don’t entirely impact the plot, yet they feel like they have an effect on the character and his place in the world, and indeed the pacing and style of the film as a whole – which certainly doesn’t feel its run-time.
Everything appears to slot together with ease thanks to the precise crafting that has gone into the film and its style. It makes for an engaging drama where the audible and visual details make it all the more compelling and create the layers for all those playing out the story; the towering concrete structure which dwarfs them has a strong effect even with just supports and base columns put in. All made more impactful as we see László’s connection with the project and the world around him fluctuate and intensify, stirred with the eventual arrival of Erzsébet and Zsófia who carry their own traumas from the past, and those they’re combatting in their new home. It’s meaning that’s brought to the fore in the very latter stages of the film, bringing more to the effective drama that’s been playing out beforehand. Without the epilogue there would still be a strong film, but it’s provided with that bit more detail and emotion in the closing moments. Rounding off the wonderfully constructed and thought-through depiction of this story of immigrant experience, creativity, passion; identity and trauma.
Technically brilliant, The Brutalist has masses of visual and audible detail to enhance the finely acted epic at play. Masterfully handled by Brady Corbet the run-time breezes by thanks to the pacing and investing detail in the emotional stakes of the drama created from the hovering tragedies and pasts the central characters face.
Just A Little Bit Random 