The film's opening scene, shot in shaky close-up, with the camera trapped in a sunless interior, gives an ominous taste of the claustrophobic and disorienting cinematography of the masterful "Saul Fia" ("Son of Saul", 2015). The protagonist, Laszlo Toth (Academy Award winner Adrien Brody, seemingly picking up where he left off Polanski's "The Pianist"), finds himself among a group of other people, in what will soon turn out to be the hold of a ship. Until then, however, judging only by the apparent aura of disorder and agitation, the first, spontaneous thought we make is that the people are boarding a train with a destination to Auschwitz or are entrapped in a gas chamber, expecting death at any minute. Regardless of all these doomful thoughts, the final outcome is welcome surprise: The hatch opens and the passengers disembark, breathing sighs of relief on the "doorstep" of an alterative promised land; the USA. Nevertheless, the long shot sequence ends with the lens depicting the Statue of Liberty upside-down; a distorted perspective, which implies that not everything will eventually proceed as expected.
"The Brutalist" is a film that lives up to that early promise; that perfect opening sequence. It is the chronicle of a second road to Golgotha, paved with setbacks, as well as direct tests for the Holocaust survivor, who was surely hoping for a brief time that the ultimate challenges were now behind him and that it wouldn't take long before he would find the much-desired peace and family happiness in the country that opposed the Germans (fierce oppressors of his talent). Much to his dismay, he will once again encounter suspicion, intolerance, exploitation and cynical sadism, in a new, sometimes more diplomatic, hypocritical and underlying way. In the challenging duration of three hours and 35 minutes, which flow naturally, but certainly not lightly or painlessly, the whole struggle of an expelled man in search for a better future is being introduced to the viewer, as well as the burden of the harsh treatment he gets; the hard battle to overcome all the racist stereotypes and the prejudices about his beliefs and be able to become a part of the new society, maintaining his pride and honor, without resorting to servitude.
At the same time, the film delves into the inner battle of the gifted creator against himself, both in the workspace and private life. It gradually invades the world of the architect (an incubator of ambitious new conceptions), the artistic gamble that absorbed him to the point of treating his colleagues and subordinates harshly, precisely because he had already made sure to repeatedly sacrifice himself in order to realise his vision.
"The Brutalist" looms over the battlefield that visionary Laszlo must conquer in order to achieve his ambitious goals exactly in the version that they had occured to him in the first place, but also focuses on all those who try to sap his talent and at the same time force him into creative compromises, altering his plan in order to abide by a sustainable budget. The eccentric multi-millionaire Harrison Lee Van Buren, who enters the film's spotlight, is a key figure. As the holder of the general mandate, the powerful financier can pull the plug on the major project at any time, and therefore has enormous power and influence over the creator. As we shall see, the completion of Laszlo's goal is not simply incentivized by the promise of glory or wealth. It is something much more important for him, and as the film progresses it is evident that the grandiose project is becoming a refuge in his eyes; this is his one-way street so he can find the much-desired peace and the feeling of completion that has always eluded him.
Another struggle for Laszlo is his addiction to substances, which enable him to plunge into a parallel reality from the gloomy everyday life he experiences, temporarily easing the pain of his mental trauma. Reflecting this ongoing adversity and its repercussions on all levels (from silent heartbreak to angry outbursts), the lens, with its brave and imaginative shots, sometimes seems to be trying to "diminish" the protagonist's existence, contrasting him with imposing settings, which at the same time imply an unbearable burden: To carry out the difficult mission, to carry out his duty without surrendering to others' interference; a duty that he mainly owns to himself and his equally afflicted relatives. He, as well as them, is enduring silently every torment, in order to get a glimpse of hope and finally find a way out of his dark and unsettling labyrinth.
Aligned with the main protagonist, who refuses to compromise his vision and be a cheap sellout, is the "maestro" of "The Brutalist", who is none other than the 36-year-old Brady Corbett. If something is omnipresent in the filmography of the talented director -and actor-, it is the ambition that sets the artistic bar to unimaginable heights. Unlike the past, this time the execution is more successful than ever, without sacrificing anything from the creator's vision. The 215 minutes of this work of art, including a necessary 15-minute intermission, which is an integral part of the film, attest to this.
Shot on 70mm film and benefiting from Daniel Bloomberg's riveting music score, which enhance its epic character, the film seems to run parallel to Toth's artistic vision and its gradual, brick by brick realization. Watching the movie, what we experience (and not what we just see) gives us vibes from an inverted "There Will Be Blood" (2007). Both works are slow-burn races towards the american dream, ultimately leading to the deconstruction of both the latter and America's capitalist greed as a whole. Paul Thomas Anderson's film chronicled the building of an empire from the point of view of an adventurous businessman; a former miner, who gradually sacrificed his morality and eventually completely mutilated his own humanism, contaminated by the fumes of a toxic greed and a narcissistic disorder. By contrast, in "The Brutalist," the point of view is that of the innocent creator, who finds himself in the payroll of a greedy businessman (a chameleon-performance by Guy Pearce in the role of megalomaniac tycoon Van Buren), recruited to carry out the vanity project of his boss, remaining throughout the film in direct contrast with him. The employer, another character whose facets are unfolded cryptically, leaving little hints of what might be lurking beneath the surface of his manners (which is why the character seems so authentic and not forced), enables the marginalized creator (p.s. Toth had represented the Bauhaus movement with brilliant results, but experienced marginalization by the Nazis) to pursue artistic expression again, and everything slowly begins to fall into place.
Unfortunately, giving Toth the chance to be ambitious again also carries risks for him. As we shall see, the "commercial" means and the vainglorious nature of the planned project (a cultural center in memory of Van Buren's mother, with which the businessman trully aspires to give new glamor to the provincial town where he lives) will soon transform and reach new ambitions and artistic heights in the skillful hands of the architect. In the foreground, now, comes the desire to build a true work of cultural heritage, which will be the culmination of the imprint that the artist wants to leave on the society, and at the same time will act as a cathartic path for him. On the other hand, we have the super-wealthy employer and his staff, who observe the creative process, being the extraneous forces that strive to force every gifted nature into compromise.
At this point, Corbett's commentary on the perilous dilemmas and objective difficulties of free artistic expression is evident. He could've easily been influenced by an "ostracized" artist, like Orson Welles. But he takes it a step further, highlighting a "paradox" often seen in entertainment industries: The powerful bosses-financiers, who pull the strings in various spaces, introduce (or bring out of obscurity) artistic geniuses, only for them to "mutilate" them a bit later, seizing from them the freedom to create something truly risky, daring or thought provoking, that could fundamentally change our world or at least shock its foundations.
Many times, even Laszlo's loved ones try to restrain him, in an attempt to protect him, as they realize the dangers of an unruly spirit, who is 100% devoted to a higher goal. The film conveys brilliantly the way the protagonist is being complemented by his ailing and severely impaired wife, Erzebet (a top performance by Felicity Jones), who slowly moves into the movie's spotlight and doesn't hesitate to stand up in her husband's defense. She is the guardian-angel, whose fragile state doesn't prevent from taking timid initiatives and being a voice of reason when it comes to the management of crises. Not to mention that, in a critical turning point, she doesn't hesitate to take a 180-degree turn, abandoning the role of the balancing force: She publicly confronts and exposes the malicious person that has continued to traumatize her husband's soul for what he trully is. Showing that a damaged reputation can be the beginning of a downfall even for the most powerful persons in any industry.
If "There Will Be Blood" was the film where the sticky, thick blackness from the deepest undergrounds of humanity comes up to the surface, like when oil comes out from a well, in "The Brutalist," the overwhelming majority of sadistic torture is only implied in the eyes of the protagonist, without ever being seen directly on camera. So broken is his gaze (the finishing touch to a multi-dimensional performance from Brody) that, nearing the finale, the revelation about what ordeals he's really endured comes so unexpectedly, yet so naturally, to complete the puzzle of Toth's tumultuous path. He, at least, will not be denied the blessing of seeing his magnum opus completed.
"The Brutalist" is a film that lives up to that early promise; that perfect opening sequence. It is the chronicle of a second road to Golgotha, paved with setbacks, as well as direct tests for the Holocaust survivor, who was surely hoping for a brief time that the ultimate challenges were now behind him and that it wouldn't take long before he would find the much-desired peace and family happiness in the country that opposed the Germans (fierce oppressors of his talent). Much to his dismay, he will once again encounter suspicion, intolerance, exploitation and cynical sadism, in a new, sometimes more diplomatic, hypocritical and underlying way. In the challenging duration of three hours and 35 minutes, which flow naturally, but certainly not lightly or painlessly, the whole struggle of an expelled man in search for a better future is being introduced to the viewer, as well as the burden of the harsh treatment he gets; the hard battle to overcome all the racist stereotypes and the prejudices about his beliefs and be able to become a part of the new society, maintaining his pride and honor, without resorting to servitude.
At the same time, the film delves into the inner battle of the gifted creator against himself, both in the workspace and private life. It gradually invades the world of the architect (an incubator of ambitious new conceptions), the artistic gamble that absorbed him to the point of treating his colleagues and subordinates harshly, precisely because he had already made sure to repeatedly sacrifice himself in order to realise his vision.
"The Brutalist" looms over the battlefield that visionary Laszlo must conquer in order to achieve his ambitious goals exactly in the version that they had occured to him in the first place, but also focuses on all those who try to sap his talent and at the same time force him into creative compromises, altering his plan in order to abide by a sustainable budget. The eccentric multi-millionaire Harrison Lee Van Buren, who enters the film's spotlight, is a key figure. As the holder of the general mandate, the powerful financier can pull the plug on the major project at any time, and therefore has enormous power and influence over the creator. As we shall see, the completion of Laszlo's goal is not simply incentivized by the promise of glory or wealth. It is something much more important for him, and as the film progresses it is evident that the grandiose project is becoming a refuge in his eyes; this is his one-way street so he can find the much-desired peace and the feeling of completion that has always eluded him.
Another struggle for Laszlo is his addiction to substances, which enable him to plunge into a parallel reality from the gloomy everyday life he experiences, temporarily easing the pain of his mental trauma. Reflecting this ongoing adversity and its repercussions on all levels (from silent heartbreak to angry outbursts), the lens, with its brave and imaginative shots, sometimes seems to be trying to "diminish" the protagonist's existence, contrasting him with imposing settings, which at the same time imply an unbearable burden: To carry out the difficult mission, to carry out his duty without surrendering to others' interference; a duty that he mainly owns to himself and his equally afflicted relatives. He, as well as them, is enduring silently every torment, in order to get a glimpse of hope and finally find a way out of his dark and unsettling labyrinth.
Aligned with the main protagonist, who refuses to compromise his vision and be a cheap sellout, is the "maestro" of "The Brutalist", who is none other than the 36-year-old Brady Corbett. If something is omnipresent in the filmography of the talented director -and actor-, it is the ambition that sets the artistic bar to unimaginable heights. Unlike the past, this time the execution is more successful than ever, without sacrificing anything from the creator's vision. The 215 minutes of this work of art, including a necessary 15-minute intermission, which is an integral part of the film, attest to this.
Shot on 70mm film and benefiting from Daniel Bloomberg's riveting music score, which enhance its epic character, the film seems to run parallel to Toth's artistic vision and its gradual, brick by brick realization. Watching the movie, what we experience (and not what we just see) gives us vibes from an inverted "There Will Be Blood" (2007). Both works are slow-burn races towards the american dream, ultimately leading to the deconstruction of both the latter and America's capitalist greed as a whole. Paul Thomas Anderson's film chronicled the building of an empire from the point of view of an adventurous businessman; a former miner, who gradually sacrificed his morality and eventually completely mutilated his own humanism, contaminated by the fumes of a toxic greed and a narcissistic disorder. By contrast, in "The Brutalist," the point of view is that of the innocent creator, who finds himself in the payroll of a greedy businessman (a chameleon-performance by Guy Pearce in the role of megalomaniac tycoon Van Buren), recruited to carry out the vanity project of his boss, remaining throughout the film in direct contrast with him. The employer, another character whose facets are unfolded cryptically, leaving little hints of what might be lurking beneath the surface of his manners (which is why the character seems so authentic and not forced), enables the marginalized creator (p.s. Toth had represented the Bauhaus movement with brilliant results, but experienced marginalization by the Nazis) to pursue artistic expression again, and everything slowly begins to fall into place.
Unfortunately, giving Toth the chance to be ambitious again also carries risks for him. As we shall see, the "commercial" means and the vainglorious nature of the planned project (a cultural center in memory of Van Buren's mother, with which the businessman trully aspires to give new glamor to the provincial town where he lives) will soon transform and reach new ambitions and artistic heights in the skillful hands of the architect. In the foreground, now, comes the desire to build a true work of cultural heritage, which will be the culmination of the imprint that the artist wants to leave on the society, and at the same time will act as a cathartic path for him. On the other hand, we have the super-wealthy employer and his staff, who observe the creative process, being the extraneous forces that strive to force every gifted nature into compromise.
At this point, Corbett's commentary on the perilous dilemmas and objective difficulties of free artistic expression is evident. He could've easily been influenced by an "ostracized" artist, like Orson Welles. But he takes it a step further, highlighting a "paradox" often seen in entertainment industries: The powerful bosses-financiers, who pull the strings in various spaces, introduce (or bring out of obscurity) artistic geniuses, only for them to "mutilate" them a bit later, seizing from them the freedom to create something truly risky, daring or thought provoking, that could fundamentally change our world or at least shock its foundations.
Many times, even Laszlo's loved ones try to restrain him, in an attempt to protect him, as they realize the dangers of an unruly spirit, who is 100% devoted to a higher goal. The film conveys brilliantly the way the protagonist is being complemented by his ailing and severely impaired wife, Erzebet (a top performance by Felicity Jones), who slowly moves into the movie's spotlight and doesn't hesitate to stand up in her husband's defense. She is the guardian-angel, whose fragile state doesn't prevent from taking timid initiatives and being a voice of reason when it comes to the management of crises. Not to mention that, in a critical turning point, she doesn't hesitate to take a 180-degree turn, abandoning the role of the balancing force: She publicly confronts and exposes the malicious person that has continued to traumatize her husband's soul for what he trully is. Showing that a damaged reputation can be the beginning of a downfall even for the most powerful persons in any industry.
If "There Will Be Blood" was the film where the sticky, thick blackness from the deepest undergrounds of humanity comes up to the surface, like when oil comes out from a well, in "The Brutalist," the overwhelming majority of sadistic torture is only implied in the eyes of the protagonist, without ever being seen directly on camera. So broken is his gaze (the finishing touch to a multi-dimensional performance from Brody) that, nearing the finale, the revelation about what ordeals he's really endured comes so unexpectedly, yet so naturally, to complete the puzzle of Toth's tumultuous path. He, at least, will not be denied the blessing of seeing his magnum opus completed.