As a cinephile who has traversed the vast landscapes of cinema history, from the golden age of Hollywood to the indie film scene, I must say that Brady Corbet’s “The Brutalist” stands out as one of the most captivating and thought-provoking epics I’ve encountered in recent years.
In the 2010 song “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)” by My Chemical Romance, the second line reads, “the aftermath is secondary.” However, for filmmaker Brady Corbet, the aftermath is what truly matters. Over three films, Corbet has demonstrated a keen interest in examining how individuals react to horrors specific to their eras. Although it occurred post-Germany’s surrender, the lingering specter of World War I was present in his first directorial effort, “The Childhood of a Dictator,” set in France. In contrast, “Vox Lux” tells the story of a pop star whose career blossomed following her survival from a school shooting. In Corbet’s movies, the gruesome past is seldom shown, but the profound psychological impact it has on ordinary people is always front and center.
The Brutalist
In Pennsylvania, Tóth begins working for his relative Attila (Alessandro Nivola). It’s here that the screenplay by Corbet and Mona Fastvold in The Brutalist introduces a central theme: assimilation. This film challenges the idea of America as a land of opportunity, suggesting that opportunities are only accessible to those who fit in. In one of her initial talks with Tóth, Attila’s wife suggests he should consult a doctor about modifying his nose – a suggestion hinting at injuries sustained from jumping off a train. Although she means the physical injuries, the unsettling implication of a non-Jewish woman suggesting a Jewish man alter his nose is clear. At the same time, Attila mentions that he was raised Jewish but is now Catholic, like his wife, and has renamed his furniture store to “Miller & Sons Co.
I’ve got a soft spot for a solid family surname,” I happily clarify, though it’s a fiction, you see. Miller isn’t my real last name, and I don’t have any sons to carry on the lineage. But this new world I find myself in holds many more falsehoods yet to unravel, Tóth included.
In his quest for a suitable dwelling place, László Tóth encounters the affluent Harrison Lee Van Buren, a Protestant individual known for sudden, alarming emotional outbursts. Intrigued by Tóth’s renovation of his library in a striking Brutalist design, Van Buren offers him a job to construct a community center dedicated to his late mother. Struggling financially and hopeful that working with Van Buren and his influential connections could bring his wife, Erzsébet Tóth (Felicity Jones), to America, László accepts the offer. However, as he strives for stability in a land hostile towards “outsiders,” what sacrifices and hardships will László endure?
In the novel The Brutalist, Tóth’s struggle to maintain personal identity while ensuring security in America is vividly portrayed. One particularly striking representation of this struggle can be found in Daniel Blumberg’s score. Unlike conventional historical film scores, his compositions are frequently interrupted by dissonant elements such as the deep growls of struck piano keys or what seem like percussive clicks. This musical tension mirrors Tóth’s internal conflict, suggesting a battle between his creative vision and the societal pressures he faces. The question arises: how can Tóth express himself without causing offense to Van Buren? Is it possible for him to find acceptance in a society that is so unfriendly towards foreigners?
In Tóth’s life portrayed by the soundtrack, Blumberg skillfully directs a vivid depiction. This is just one of numerous ways The Brutalist flourishes as an artistic endeavor under Brady Corbet’s guidance. Confidence in his filmmaking has always been evident with this man, and it shows even in his unconventional methods for opening credits. In The Brutalist, cast and crew names scroll horizontally from right to left instead of the usual vertical scrolling, breaking cinematic norms and demonstrating Corbet’s focus on pushing the boundaries of cinema. He is interested not just in what has been done, but also in exploring new stories yet to be told. With The Brutalist, he achieves this and more, showcasing his peak creative prowess.
The nearly four-hour duration of “The Brutalist,” divided by an intermission, is certain to provoke more discussions on the lengthiness of contemporary films. Personally, I appreciate extended movies like this one not just for offering me multiple hours of escapism from personal worries, but also because there’s a captivating quality about being engrossed in a skillful artist’s work for such an extended period. The varied moods that can develop over these prolonged runtimes are profoundly felt, and “The Brutalist” demonstrates this exceptionally well. Directors Corbet and Fastvold are weaving a narrative here that, excluding the epilogue, spans 13 years of a man’s life. Contrastingly, many 110-minute music biopics rush through their material in a constricted space. Corbet takes his time to let the past unfold at an unhurried pace.
This extended storytelling technique is also responsible for some breathtaking continuous shots. Director Ben Wheatley, along with cinematographer Lol Crawley, skillfully incorporate images that significantly contribute to specific dialogues or plot points between characters. The emotional intensity of the human drama portrayed through these visuals is so captivating that it can make you forget about the relentless gaze of the camera! One scene that particularly stands out to me, showcasing this cinematic style, is a shot featuring László Tóth and three of his loved ones in a tense dinner conversation. This image mirrors a continuous dance sequence from Kathleen Collins’ film “Losing Ground.” In both instances, the camera maintains its focus on domestic discord within close-knit individuals. Wheatley and Collins employ unique camerawork to chillingly depict human bonds deteriorating in real time.
Reflecting on cinematic marvels like “Losing Ground,” it’s clear that the caliber of filmmaking here is top-notch. What’s truly captivating is how Corbet and Crawler manage to apply a David Lean-esque grandeur to an intensely personal narrative. Unlike other films filled with vast crowds or spectacular events, “The Brutalist” doesn’t focus on such grandeur. Instead, the camera work skillfully highlights the struggles of Tóth, an architect whose ambitious projects often face setbacks that are never dramatized in slow-motion. This isn’t a story about a man who mingles with the elite daily or rubs shoulders with the Van Burens. Mostly, he lives life from paycheck to paycheck. Only on a trip to Italy does his job allow him to witness grand sights, otherwise, he’s too busy navigating the everyday grind.
In contrast to the grandiose style of old-fashioned roadshow epics, as suggested by its sweeping shots and lengthy runtime, “The Brutalist” is a deeply personal, intimate dramatic exploration. It derives its most compelling moments from authentic scenarios, such as László and Erzsébet Tóth’s conversation on their first night together after reuniting. This conversation, primarily shot in a single take, zeroes in on these two characters lying in bed close to each other. As Erzsébet speaks, a torrent of mixed feelings spills from her, vividly portrayed by the director and cinematographer.
I truly never knew where her monologue was going next, a testament to the writing and transfixing acting from Jones. Capturing this incredibly raw, personal, sexually-tinged exchange through the cinematographic process VistaVision has such fascinating ramifications. Many American features in the 1950s and 60s utilized VistaVision. However, most were grand Westerns (The Searchers), spy thrillers (North by Northwest), or musicals (High Society). Now, this crisp widescreen shooting style is utilized in The Brutalist to capture complicated human emotions and messy immigrant experiences. A grand canvas applied to intimate struggles.
Instead of merely captivating us with a stunning adoption of traditional cinematographic styles from Hollywood, “The Brutalist” is expertly crafted to shine brilliantly on the cinema screen. Since László Tóth meticulously chooses materials for his projects, it’s fitting that this film was brought to life using 35mm film, which enhances the tactile qualities of each scene. The captivating visuals and themes are further enriched by exceptional performances from a talented ensemble of actors who have been underutilized in contemporary Hollywood. Over the past nine to twelve years, the scarcity of adult American dramas has made it challenging for “The Brutalist’s” principal cast members to showcase their skills.
For example, the exceptionally skilled actor Pearce has found himself stuck in less-than-stellar American productions such as “Disturbing the Peace”, “Bloodshot”, and “Without Remorse”. Brody’s career struggles extend beyond the mid-2010s. Even Jones, who starred in a 2016 “Star Wars” film, didn’t receive many notable roles post-“Rogue One”. These career setbacks weren’t indicative of their shortcomings. Instead, films like “The Brutalist” have been scarce in contemporary American cinema. This classic epic provides an opportunity for all three actors to shine in their respective roles. At last, someone gave these performers the chance to truly showcase their talents, and the outcome is delightful. Pearce delivers a compelling performance as a man who is both financially attractive yet subtly agitating. The unsettling aspects of Van Burn are skillfully brought out by Pearce’s capable hands.
In his performance as László Tóth, Brody skillfully leaves behind his previous roles, from his stellar work with Wes Anderson to the peculiar “Flirty Harry”. From the instant he appears on screen, a palpable weariness emanates from every fiber of his being. The anguish Tóth has experienced doesn’t require flashbacks or narrative exposition; Brody’s portrayal conveys it powerfully. It’s a stunning performance, providing a richly nuanced foundation for the equally complex historical drama.
In one of the final scenes of “The Master,” cult leader Lancaster Dodd asks Freddie Quell, “If you discover a method to exist without being under someone else’s control, any controller, would you tell us? Because you’d be the first in history.” As “The Brutalist” unfolds, we witness a man who fled Nazi-destroyed Germany to find freedom in America. However, Tóth finds himself trapped in different cages of society. As a Jewish immigrant, he is still marginalized. His only sense of power comes from abusing those weaker than him, such as construction workers or the working class. This is what success looks like in America. There seems to be no escape from a society constructed on oppression and capitalism. Put simply, Tóth has merely swapped one cage for another in his quest for freedom.
One character eventually laments, “This America is corrupted,” but when it comes to Corbet’s filmmaking, nothing could be further from the truth. This powerful, awe-inspiring masterpiece stands tall alongside Godland, Killers of the Flower Moon, and Babylon in the prestigious collection of outstanding 2020s epics. The Brutalist, Corbet’s most impressive and assured creation to date, captivates viewers just as much as its creator does in delving into “the aftermath” of harrowing historical occurrences.
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2024-11-30 20:15