REVIEW: Brady Corbet Crafts a New Cinematic Language with “The Brutalist”

by Jacob Jones

The year in movies has been rougher than expected at its outset. The double-whammy of Dune: Part Two and Challengers releasing within a month of each other seemed to signal great things in store for 2024’s cinematic output, and yet to this point, no film has felt truly special enough that it could rise above all others as a bastion of where the American cinema not only is in its present context, but where it needs to go. Summer was an overall critical bust – but for a few bright spots holding things together – as the shadow of 2023’s SAG-AFTRA strikes loomed ever larger – and the lead-in to November held a number of significant disappointments from long-expected awards candidates, while the smaller releases began to shine brighter than ever. Still, even amongst those smaller diamonds being chiseled out of Hollywood’s metaphorical coal mine, and despite the excellence of some of the year’s larger releases, none had emerged as yet that one might consider a true masterwork, a brightly shining torch leading the way forward not only for the American cinema, but for cinema as an art form. All of this – in my view – changes with the release of Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist.
 
The film stars Adrien Brody as László Toth, an architect from Budapest whose family flees post-war Europe in 1947 to witness the birth of modern America. Upon arrival, he is swiftly put to work by a mysterious and wealthy land owner (Guy Pearce), who wishes László to build a multi-use community center in honor of his late mother. As complications mount and tensions rise between those who wield power and those whose work comes about through passion, the idea of the American dream is put to the test, if indeed there was any dream at all for the immigrant at the mercy of the wealthy. The film also stars Felicity Jones, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, and Alessandro Nivola.
 
It’s been three days now since my having seen The Brutalist at a Talk Cinema program put on by Louisville, KY’s Speed Cinema curators, and I find myself entirely unable to think of almost anything else with respect to this year’s awards race, or indeed the state of cinema as a whole. The poster for the film, as well as the trailer, describe it as “monumental;” a more apt descriptor is unlikely to be found in the English language. Indeed, if there is a word in any language to describe just how monumental this film feels, it is only the cinematic language created by Brady Corbet here as the director imbues his awards contender with a level of craft no other theater experience this year can match. Grand-scale, operatic, and above all consequential both to itself and the world around it, this film feels like a shift in the American public consciousness, at least when the viewer is engaged with it in the moment. To give you an idea of what that means, reader, the screening was so full that myself and my partner were seated in the very front row on the end, and yet not for one second could my eyes leave the screen to the left and in front of me. I was witnessing movie history, and I knew it intrinsically.
 
Everything about The Brutalist – including some of its more complex narrative conceits introduced in the film’s second half (which is preceded by a 15-minute intermission) – works despite not always working. That is to say, even the choices made that seem out-of-place or challenging to the film’s momentum remain interesting to unpack no matter their nature, and within that unpacking lies the film’s true power, to generate not only discussion but examination of meaning, of intent, of theme. Films that invite such discussion are so rare now that it can be an intoxicating effect to witness one in real time, but even if there were many to choose from now, The Brutalist would remain a standout amongst the distinguished crowd. The film’s central thesis, at least in my view, seems to concern the fact that art and artistry – passion – will always triumph over and outlast power, both as respectively manifested by Adrien Brody and Guy Pearce’s characters, and that either the promise of the American dream is a lie or is in desperate need of re-definition.
 
From a crafts perspective alone, the movie is immaculate, as Lol Crawley’s camera captures not simply the scale of the literal frame, but also of the film’s ideas – sweeping without being broad, roaming without being distracted – while Daniel Blumberg’s magnificent score blares in the viewer’s ear, announcing a generational talent in Brady Corbet as his thorough direction brings the narrative to bear. And this excellence is reflected in the performances as well, Adrien Brody not simply playing László as naturally as he’s ever played any character, but lending such pathos to him behind the eyes that one could swear that László is simply a pseudonym for a life Brody has actually been living. The same could be applied to slightly lesser degrees for Guy Pearce and Felicity Jones, respectively, though it’s the latter whose performance almost feels like an actor’s showcase rather than a lived-in character, despite how excellent that showcase is. All three of them should not simply be considered this awards season, but lauded, and Brody should be front of the line to win his second Oscar.
 
One thing that’s been on my mind ever since seeing The Brutalist is not only “when can I see it again,” but “when can I travel out to a 70mm screen to witness the Vista Vision photography and hear the score and see the performances the way they deserve to be seen and heard?” If I believed there would be no challenge, I would drive to one tomorrow simply to have the experience of watching this in a theater again, no matter the distance – that’s how monumental this movie feels. There are still many films to get to before the year is out, but I have serious doubts about anything taking the top spot from this. If anything from 2024 is to be called a masterpiece, The Brutalist is it.
 
I’m giving “The Brutalist” a 10/10.

- The Friendly Film Fan