‘The Brutalist’: Brady Corbet’s Awe-Inspiring American Epic About the Immigrant Experience 

Alci Rengifo

In the style of some grand American novel, Brady Corbet’s “The Brutalist” paints a sweeping portrait that attempts to encompass a whole panorama about this country through one life. Ambition, classism, capitalism, independence, addiction, and especially the immigrant experience form the layers of a film that truly deserves to be termed an epic. Already touted as a major awards contender, the superficial details of the movie will grab attention first. Corbet shot on VistaVision cameras in 70mm and delivers his passion project running at 3 hours and 35 minutes. There is a 15 minute intermission included, which makes the viewing experience more enjoyable (Hollywood should consider bringing back this practice). The scale would feel empty if the film were shallow. All the craft on display works because the film is actually about many things.

“The Brutalist” opens with chaotic scenes as Hungarian-Jewish architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) escapes the horror of World War II Europe. After arriving on the shores of New York in 1947 and gazing at the Statue of Liberty, László makes his way to Doylestown, Philadelphia to stay with his cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola). An architect of the brutalist school, László struggles to find his place. When Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn) hires László and Attila to redesign the library of his very wealthy father, Harrison (Guy Pearce), it feels like a good opportunity. Elder Harrison does not like the surprise at first and kicks the architect out, later refusing to pay. This results in Attila finding an excuse to throw László out of his home. Nearly destitute and becoming addicted to heroin, László also writes letters to his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), who was left behind in Europe with her orphaned niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy). Harrison reappears, shamed at not acknowledging the architect’s brilliance now that the new library has even made it into a magazine. The rich man offers László the chance to build something even bigger in the form of a community center to honor the former’s late mother. 

The clash between commerce and art, or the independence of an artist under the shadow of a patron, is a classic story. Corbet’s approach is unique by absorbing wider themes that range from the historical to artistic. “The Brutalist” feels like a great culmination of the director’s obsession with commenting on zeitgeists. His debut, “The Childhood of a Leader,” focuses on the son of a diplomat watching his father help plan the Treaty of Versailles in the aftermath of World War I. That child grows up to be a fascist leader by the end of the film. In 2018 Corbet made “Vox Lux,” starring Natalie Portman as a pop star through whose gaze we see defining events and trends of the 21st century, from 9/11 to mass shootings. Corbet clearly believes you cannot disconnect individual lives from the times shaping their surroundings. He’s not wrong. We are all the victims of history in one form or another, even if we try to ignore the wider world. A voiceover at the beginning of the film quotes Goethe, “None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe themselves free.”

 “The Brutalist” on one level is about a great talent arriving in a new, strange place, crashing against the American ruling class. László is a refugee exiled by fascism from his homeland. Yet, in the United States the American Dream is no easy prospect. We are a land of immigrants that can still be hostile to newcomers. Attila’s Catholic wife dislikes the Jewish László, who clearly raises suspicions from locals with his heavy accent. Harris and his circle of rich friends can be friendly and condescending at once. A dinner guest asks questions about surviving the Holocaust as if inquiring about a nasty vacation. László’s descent into addiction while finding refuge at night spots where patrons dance to jazz is the act of a person lost in limbo. Not surprisingly, his first real friend in Doylestown is Gordon (Isaach de Bankolé), a Black man who knows all too well how prejudice works around here. However, opportunity is intoxicating when the architect looks at the large hill where Harrison wants his community center. To have immense funds and creative freedom is any artist’s dream. The building László designs is indeed a brutalist masterwork, with one particular, brilliant idea for utilizing the sun’s shifting light during the day.

All this is before the intermission. “The Brutalist” has a wide breadth where, again, the comparison with classic literature is not off. As László embarks on his quest to make the structure a reality, history continues to swirl around him and us as viewers. News floats over the radio of the establishment of Israel. The Cold War heats up with the U.S. and Soviet Union expanding an arms race. American industry is on the march and we’re reminded of Philadelphia as once being a real center of American industrial might. Not only do all these events cast a shadow over László’s life in a large and subtle ways, we are still living through their aftermath. When Erzsébet finally arrives from Europe, she is wheelchair-bound due to osteoporosis caused from enduring famine during the war. Like many strong partners, she sees through Harrison and pushes László to not sell himself short. She too soon realizes this is not exactly the easiest place to acclimate to. Zsófia becomes so silent as to inspire frustration from a scummy Harry, who, like dad, believes he is owed whatever he wants from whomever. They may see László’s talent and be impressed by Erzsébet’s own Oxford credentials, yet the elites insist on treating these immigrants as dutiful servants. László will eventually feel the weight of running the construction project of the center, with all of its financial and practical challenges, while being at the mercy of Harrison.

So much is contained in “The Brutalist” that like many good films, its long running time does not feel taxing. The breather of the intermission helps, but it’s always engaging in every scene. Never does the movie meander. Cinematographer Lol Crawley shoots the film magnificently, using its massive format to compose breathless images that say much about the scope of America and its rougher darkness. Like “There Will Be Blood,” the themes come across so strongly visually. This is very much a story of images. László gazing at sparks in the evening, Harrison showing off his vast tract of land for building, Erzsébet demanding physical attention during torturous nights, the ruling class lounging by a lake as if running the world. There’s also the Statue of Liberty in an upside down angle, looking magnanimous when the architect arrives in America, yet also symbolic of the deceptiveness of our grandiose image as a nation. The music by Daniel Blumberg is symphonic when necessary and elegantly subtle when the performances dominate the scenes. Adrien Brody is quite the force of nature in this movie, generating empathy while hinting at the character’s creative ego, the selfish drive of the visionary and crippling flaws. Awards attention will come as no surprise. Guy Pearce matches him playing Harrison as both ominous and nearly satirical. 

László’s great dream can eventually become detrimental to his physical state and relationships. Great creative endeavors carry that risk. Corbet’s film can also be seen as about the artistic process in general. Can art exist without commerce? Are we always doomed to be latched to capitalism? There are no answers because how could Corbet possibly answer them when this movie needed major backing to be made? Artists or not, we also cannot escape the impact of our times. László and Erzsébet will carry the legacy of the Holocaust forever. In an Italian rock quarry where László shows Harrison the quality marble needed for the community center, an old friend insists he is still an anarchist and remembers going to kick Mussolini’s corpse. Everyone here is a refugee of defining moments. Zsófia will eventually become a Zionist and move with her husband to Israel. This raises a brief, yet intriguing debate where László and Erzsébet wonder what makes them less Jewish for not wanting to leave their current home. Needless to say, this is more history we are still grappling with. Through it all, including a shocking act of violence from Harrison, the architect cannot abandon his vision.

A massive work like “The Brutalist” can also crush its foundations. The ending of the movie is its weakest point. It feels both contrived and a bit muddled, as if Corbet struggled with finding a truly conclusive statement or elegant finish. He doesn’t need to resort to a moment that borders on hysterical melodrama to resolve a storyline. Yet, the film’s reach and achievements outdo its shortcomings, which are scattered around but dissipate behind the sheer experience. In a time of lots of shallow factory products, here is a bold attempt at making a sprawling American film with a classic feel and also a contemporary spirit. Maybe it’s a sign of where millennial filmmaking is going when it comes to reviving this particular style of cinema. Go see it on the largest screen possible where one can adequately take in the visual scale along with the rich story. “The Brutalist” succeeds as one of the year’s best films by telling a titanic journey on a human scale.

“The Brutalist” releases Dec. 20 in theaters nationwide.