In the early scenes of Brady Corbet’s exceptional film “The Brutalist,” we see László Toth (played by Adrien Brody) laboring to shovel coal in a post-war Philadelphia. This portrayal of a once-prominent architect now performing hard manual work serves as a striking metaphor for the sacrifices made in pursuit of dreams and the quest for enduring beauty in a harsh reality.
This grand narrative, which has garnered several Golden Globes, including Best Picture, is Corbet’s third full-length directorial effort, following his earlier works “The Childhood of a Leader” and “Vox Lux.” In this film, he presents his most mature and emotionally impactful storytelling, using architecture as both a focal point and an allegory, elegantly constructing the narrative with the same meticulous care that László applies to his architectural works.
The plot centers on László and his wife Erzsébet (played by the radiant Felicity Jones) as they escape from Europe in 1947, armed only with their aspirations and resolve. Their journey leads them to Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce), a wealthy businessman who sees László’s potential and becomes his benefactor. Yet, like the stark beauty of brutalist architecture itself, this alliance embodies both resilience and severity, intertwining light with darkness.
Filmed with a vintage cinematic style and shown in both 35mm and 70mm formats, the film’s visuals resonate with its architectural themes. Corbet and his cinematographer collaborate effectively to create imagery that feels both timeless and modernist, reflecting the architectural evolution portrayed in the movie. While the attention to historical details is superb, the film more significantly employs these elements to delve into lasting themes related to art, power, and the American dream.
Brody gives a performance that may stand as his best since “The Pianist,” capturing László with a compelling blend of artistic zeal and inner turmoil. His dynamic interactions with Jones illustrate their journeys through both personal struggles and professional obstacles in a foreign land. The supporting ensemble, featuring Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, and Alessandro Nivola, adds layers and complexity to their characters, weaving a rich narrative depicting American society in the aftermath of war.
What sets “The Brutalist” apart from typical period dramas is its insightful commentary on how architecture influences not only spaces but also the lives of those within. The narrative’s exploration of the interplay between creativity and commerce, alongside the tension between artistic vision and pragmatic choices, resonates far beyond its backdrop. Corbet has crafted a film that, much like exemplary brutalist architecture, discovers profound beauty in its straightforwardness and robust construction.
This film deserves to be experienced on the grandest screen available—its visual scale is matched by its capacity to immerse viewers fully in its crafted world. The IMAX presentation offers a rare chance to appreciate the film in the scale it was designed for, showcasing the intricate details of its elaborate construction.
During a time when many films merely skim superficial themes, “The Brutalist” deeply investigates its narrative and thematic foundations. It reflects the reality that genuine artistry, whether in architecture or film, necessitates not only vision but also the audacity to manifest that vision, despite the personal toll.
Does the creation of masterpieces always stem from adversity? “The Brutalist” intimates that it does, while also highlighting that the most profound artworks—be they structures or films—are those that surpass the creators’ suffering to convey universal truths. In achieving this, Corbet has crafted not only a film about architecture but a cinematic structure in its own right: striking, elegant, and designed to endure.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJhPhG71JAI[/embed>