The Brutalist (2024)

3 1/2 Stars (out of 4)

Entrancing Architecture

By Jeffrey M. Anderson

A massive work of hubris, Brady Corbet's sprawling biographical story of a fictional, larger-than-life character, and a towering showcase of design, the admirable (if not lovable) The Brutalist requires patience.

Hungarian-Jewish architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) survives the Holocaust and makes it to America, although his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), are detained in Europe. László is taken in by his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola) and Attila's wife Audrey (Emma Laird), who run a furniture shop in Philadelphia. Attila is hired by a wealthy acquaintance, Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn), to build a library as a surprise for his father, industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce), which László designs.

At first, Harrison is appalled by the "surprise," until he discovers the identity of its designer. He hires László to design a massive community center. Erzsébet finally arrives, stricken with osteoporosis and using a wheelchair, while Zsófia has stopped speaking. László continues work on the community center, obsessing over details and raging against budget cuts or proposed changes. The promise of life in America begins to spiral downward, but the American Dream still looms.

Directed by Brady Corbet, who began acting as a teen, and who directed the equally challenging Vox Lux, The Brutalist is big, and was made for a shockingly small budget.

It's hard not to be impressed by how many moving parts it has, and its scope. Its period design is endlessly impressive, even if viewers know little to nothing about the art of architecture. (To pay homage to its 1950s setting, it was shot on film, and in VistaVision, a process that turned the film frames sideways to use more space, as well as yielding a clearer depth of field.)

Unsurprisingly, the performances are immense, with Brody going to the ends of the earth and back to perfect his accent, mannerisms, and frenetic obsession. And the movie's most overarching theme is unexpectedly simple and profound: creating art to manage, and memorialize, trauma.

It's the type of movie that impresses, as many similar, lofty, large-scale movies have done throughout history (Citizen Kane, Lawrence of Arabia, The Leopard, There Will Be Blood, Oppenheimer, etc.), and this makes it easy to forgive its flaws. The story can feel padded, and certain aspects of it feel short-changed, as if not given enough detail or closure. And, despite a fifteen-minute intermission, three-and-a-half hours is a big ask for audiences. However, its ambition, inventiveness, and forcefulness make The Brutalist a movie worth talking about.