Brady Corbet’s “The Brutalist” arrives in theaters with an unbearable awareness of loss and survival. Shot with harsh angles and camera movement, its aesthetic mimics the very architectural movement it’s named after: raw, direct and massive.
The Architect of Alienation
“The Brutalist” is about the intersection of identity, displacement and art. László Tóth, played by Academy Award winner Adrien Brody, struggles to establish himself as an architect in America. The film spans several years of his life and mirrors the broader immigrant experience, marked by humiliation, compromise and the eternal sense of alienation.
Frustratingly Ambiguous
Despite its thematic richness, “The Brutalist” is not easily interpretable. The film’s narrative unfolds in fragments. Despite its three-and-a-half-hour run time, it would benefit from a longer final act. It refuses to offer neat conclusions and the ending feels like a question left unanswered. What does Corbet want us to take away from this story? Is it a celebration of resilience, or a critique of the systems perpetuating displacement? The ambiguity is perhaps intentional, but Corbet lacks a proper stance.
This is Corbet’s most ambitious work. Yet, for all its ambition, the film feels strangely incomplete and ambiguous, as if its thematic and ideological aspirations outran its narrative coherence. This ambiguity is both the film’s strength and its failure.
On one hand, it captures the dissonance of Jewish identity in the post-Holocaust diaspora. On the other hand, it feels like the film is unwilling — or unable — to take a stand on certain themes like sexual assault and Zionism, which become key conflicts within Tóth’s family. At the end of the film, there is no actual resolution to either of them. Instead, the film closes with the sentiment that it is the destination, not the journey that matters.
The political muddiness is particularly troubling given the current global context. Art has the power to shape discourse, but “The Brutalist” seems content to let its ideological stakes remain undefined. However, Corbet is a proponent of distributing Palestinian cinema, including the film “No Other Land.” Actor Guy Pearce, who plays a pivotal role in “The Brutalist,” has spoken out in support of Palestinian rights. This leads one to wonder if the film’s ambiguity is intentional, but if it is, why?
Where It Triumphs
For all its narrative and ideological ambiguities, where “The Brutalist” succeeds without question is in its technical brilliance. The editing is beautiful, each cut deliberate and evocative. More than once, the film cuts to the beat of the hauntingly strong and beautiful score. The score, composed by Daniel Blumberg, amplifies the tension between hope and despair. The cinematography is so distinct and fits the narrative perfectly. The decision to shoot on VistaVision enriches the story. It is archival and hyperreal.
AI in Cinema
But then there is the use of AI. While innovative, it raises significant concerns, especially after the recent SAG-AFTRA strike, where one of the central issues was the encroachment of AI on creative labor. The idea of using generative AI to mimic and manipulate art is unsettling. It’s almost ironic: a film about rebuilding lives is built, in part, by tools that risk erasing the labor of real people.
There’s also the question of authorship. Corbet, who is not Jewish, has taken on the task of telling a Jewish story. Is it appropriation, or an act of solidarity? As a non-Jewish viewer, I am unequipped to answer this definitively. However, the film does handle its subject matter with great care, though its outsider perspective is occasionally noticeable, particularly in its more allegorical moments.
Beautiful and Bleak
Despite its technical brilliance, “The Brutalist” is not an easy film to love. Its emotional weight is almost unbearable and its beauty is often overshadowed by its bleakness. There were moments when viewers found themselves overwhelmed, not just by the story but by the questions it left unanswered.
Whether this film will endure as a classic or fade into obscurity remains to be seen. “The Brutalist” is a profoundly unsettling work, and perhaps that is its intent. It does not offer comfort or resolution. Instead, it invites reflection, even if you are unsure what to reflect on. For all its flaws, “The Brutalist” still lingers. It is beautiful, maddening and deeply human. It feels less like a finished story and more like a blueprint, sketched and waiting for its audience to fill in the gaps.
