The Brutalist: An “American” epic, or something more?
A spoiler-free review/analysis
It’s impossible to narrow this film into one word, but if I had to suggest one it’d be: vast.
The Brutalist follows Hungarian architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a recent holocaust survivor who arrives in a post WW2 United States with hopes of finding the American Dream. As suggested by the film’s title, Tóth is the pioneering artist of Brutalism in the film’s fictional world; an architectural style characterised by its harsh simplicity, and durability - sentiments akin to the cruel endurances of post-war immigrants. Over the course of the film, we see Tóth’s artistic vision elevate him through the capitalist rungs of society, only to glimpse its rotten core.
It goes without saying that, like Brutalist architecture, The Brutalist is a monumental construction of ideas - both staggering and, at times, jading. It’s fair to say that the film is an amalgamation of disparate, but nonetheless colossal, ideas - all drawn together through director Brady Corbet’s unique vision. The film spans ideas on the immigrant, the artist, capitalism, fascism, the east, and the west, and what we the viewer are left with is a vast cavernous space to explore. A space which is undoubtedly epic, but also very easy to get lost in, and I do believe that the film loses itself in this crudely hewn space several times throughout its three-and-a-half hour runtime.
I think if you’re planning on seeing this film, a healthy approach would be to go in open-minded; willing to be taken down paths you hadn’t expected, or be left feeling ways you didn’t feel were initially suggested. The film undoubtedly borrows some of its baser construction materials from influences like The Godfather, Once Upon a Time in America, and There Will Be Blood - but to force The Brutalist into this genre of film is ultimately reductive and misleading. It’s near impossible to encounter this film without hearing the words “American epic”, but I’m not so sure they fit.
“Epic”, certainly - “American”, not so much…
In terms of tone and style, The Brutalist is far more accurately described as European, leaning more towards recent films like The Zone of Interest rather than The Killers of the Flower Moon. But that is not to say that director Brady Corbet is unaware of this dichotomy.
Image Credit: Bytown Cinema
For example, take the film’s opening. The first lines of dialogue we hear are from a Hungarian border officer as he interrogates a young lady in his native tongue. Behind the lady, is a ‘vast European landscape’. We see tears fall down her face while the officer presses on, saying distantly: ‘We want to help you get home. Your true home. What is your true home? Help us to help you get home.’
Cut to Adrien Brody as he struggles to navigate a dark, claustrophobic boat - fighting to find light. When he does, the Statue of Liberty looms over him and he screams in exultation. We, the viewer, share his relief - having just glimpsed the fascist yoke he has escaped. That relief soon curdles, however, as the camera tilts and the Statue is reoriented upside down. An orchestral wall billows in the score, with fizzling brass sections and tuning strings, enforcing an unsettling dissonance on the viewer. We know at this moment that Adrien Brody’s character, László Tóth, has simply delivered himself to the clutches of a far more sinister force.
This powerful opening serves as a perfect microcosm for the film’s overarching themes, but more importantly its distinctly European style. Corbet introduces the American setting through the Statue of Liberty, a national symbol of the American dream. A fitting choice, at first glance because it communicates to the viewer that they are in America through a piece of architecture (in a film about architecture). But then the camera tilts, shifting the viewer’s perspective, prodding them to think further. It is then that viewers may remember the Statue of Liberty’s history; it being gifted by the French in the nineteenth century as a token of admiration for the US’ newfound independence.
So here we have an opening which initially upholds the film’s “American epic” label, but, like the film as a whole, is actually distinctly European.
Personally, I love this dynamic cultural element of The Brutalist, but I think it’s important to consider how reductive and misleading it can be labelling the film as strictly “American”. That being said, I believe several viewings will be necessary to fully appreciate this film, but in the meantime it absolutely demands being viewed on the big screen. I know this is such a platitude in the film industry, but for The Brutalist it’s absolutely true. I felt dwarfed by many of the shots in this film. The sheer weight and scale of what plays out on screen can be disorienting and overwhelming at times, but in a way which is undoubtedly impressive. It would also be rude not to mention the score. The score shudders and reverberates throughout every inch of the screening room; in fact there were points when I genuinely thought my seat was vibrating, but it was just me shaking in awe (quite annoying for the person sitting next to me). However, when it’s all said and done, I feel it necessary to admit that one of my most favourite things was the intermission. If anything comes of this film I hope that it’s the industry’s recognition that intermissions need to be brought back. I’d say it was integral to my appreciation of the film, as well as in encouraging my desire to go. It also flowed beautifully both into and out of the intermission, which was just a delight to experience, but I won’t say anymore than that.