In the opening moments of Brady Corbet's masterful “The Brutalist,” we watch as László Toth (Adrien Brody) shovels coal in post-war Philadelphia – a visionary architect reduced to manual labor in a strange land. It's a powerful image that encapsulates the film's central meditation on the price of ambition and the cost of creating lasting beauty in an unforgiving world.
This sweeping epic, winner of multiple Golden Globes including Best Picture, marks Corbet's third directorial feature following “The Childhood of a Leader” and “Vox Lux.” Here, he has crafted his most mature and emotionally resonant work yet – a film that uses architecture as both subject and metaphor, building its narrative with the same precise attention to structure and form that its protagonist brings to his designs.
The story follows László and his wife Erzsébet (a luminous Felicity Jones) as they flee post-war Europe in 1947, carrying little more than their dreams and determination. Their path crosses with Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce), a wealthy industrialist who recognizes László's genius and becomes his patron. But like the stark concrete buildings that give brutalist architecture its name, this relationship reveals both strength and severity, beauty and darkness.
Shot on film and projected in both 35mm and 70mm, the movie's visual language mirrors its architectural themes. Corbet and his cinematographer work in concert to create compositions that feel both classical and modernist, much like the transitional period of architecture the film depicts. The attention to period detail is impeccable, but what's more impressive is how the film uses these historical elements to explore timeless themes about art, power, and the American dream.
Brody delivers what may be his finest performance since “The Pianist,” embodying László with a complex mixture of artistic passion and haunted determination. His scenes with Jones crackle with intensity as their characters navigate both personal and professional challenges in their adopted homeland. The supporting cast, including Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, and Alessandro Nivola, brings depth and nuance to their roles, creating a rich tapestry of post-war American society.
What elevates “The Brutalist” above mere period drama is its understanding of how architecture shapes not just spaces, but the lives within them. The film's exploration of the relationship between art and commerce, between creative vision and practical compromise, resonates far beyond its specific setting. Corbet has crafted a work that, like the best brutalist architecture, finds profound beauty in its honesty and structural integrity.
This is cinema that demands to be seen on the largest screen possible – not just for its visual grandeur, but for the way it allows us to fully inhabit its world. The IMAX release offers a rare opportunity to experience the film as it was meant to be seen, with every detail of its meticulous construction visible in magnificent scale.
In an era where many films seem content to skim the surface of their subjects, “The Brutalist” digs deep into the foundations of both its story and themes. It's a work that understands that true artistry, whether in architecture or filmmaking, requires not just vision but the courage to see that vision through, regardless of the cost.
Do masterpieces always emerge from struggle? “The Brutalist” suggests they do, while reminding us that the greatest works of art – be they buildings or films – are those that manage to transcend their creators' personal pain to speak to universal truths. In doing so, Corbet has created not just a film about architecture, but a work of architecture itself: bold, beautiful, and built to last.
