When László Tóth, a Hungarian-Jewish Holocaust survivor arrives on the shores of New York, there is a sense of euphoria, of a lifted burden. However, as the world-leading architect finds his way into the hands of a wealthy client, he soon learns that the Dream of America is not all it seems and that being of excellence does not necessarily get you far in the land of the free.
Indeed Brady Corbett’s The Brutalist has had a fair bit to deal with in the past few weeks, not least articles about the film’s use of AI to aid the Hungarian accents in the film. Nevertheless, it walked away with an impressive 10 nominations at the Oscars, including all the above-the-line categories it was contending for. Likewise, the film has had to brush off critics of its runtime of three and a half hours, including an intermission of 15 minutes.
The Brutalist is the sort of old-fashioned epic that comes around once in a blue moon, with the intermission a definite throwback. It is in this grand spectacle, which is shot on VistaVision, that the film tells its story, one of what it means to be an American, what it means to strive for the American Dream.
The film opens with the sound of what seems to be air raid sirens, in the carnage of War-torn Europe, before seamlessly transitioning to the hope of America. Where a lopsided Statue of Liberty welcomes European immigrants to the country, in all its grand scope and glory. There is a great sense of sweeping epic and grandeur as László, played impeccably by Adrien Brody, finds his footing in New York. He then meets up with them in Philadelphia and works in his furniture store, where they are commissioned to renovate a library for a wealthy industrialist who has had his own rise to the top.
The Brutalist is an epic in every aspect, in visual style, length and themes. There is great confidence in its aesthetic and look. It is beautifully colour-graded, giving great pop to the image without bright hues. The use of VistaVision gives the picture a texture, that easily separates itself in a league above from a digital format. There is a grainy and imperfect feel to the look, the cinematic equivalent of the difference between a record and a CD.
Whilst the lengthy runtime will be a contentious topic, especially among the less enamoured film fans, it is a length that feels indulgent, but completely earned. There is great care taken in how each shot is portrayed. Immense delicacy in how it shows the everyday. Almost therapeutic in how it shows László sweeping the flaw. It is infectious to watch, especially in the first half. Post-intermission, the film does feel more pedestrian, and purposefully slow, making it a little bit of a slog to get through, however, a surprising but captivating epilogue seals all the grand themes the film is exploring.
The themes are what really makes the film a true American epic. Of America’s lack of awareness for the European War struggle, of losing your identity to fit in with a new culture. Of the need to brand objects American. The creation of art and the interference of monetary obligations. But most importantly the American Dream, the fragility of that dream, and how it is often at the mercy of those higher up the economic ladder.
Whilst I think there are a few flaws with The Brutalist, it is nevertheless a transfixing film that should be celebrated as one where an artist can uncompromisingly depict his vision. A vision that is a little indulgent, but more importantly pertinent to America of the past, America of today, and America of the future.
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