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Brady Corbet’s ‘The Brutalist’ Redefines 20th Century American Cinema

In ‘The Brutalist’, the closing scene presents a character’s direct address to the audience, encapsulating the three and a half hour journey that this unique film provides. This work tackles major themes such as assimilation, immigration, and the transformative power of industry within America, delivered in a captivating narrative style exclusive to director Brady Corbet. Recognized as a highlight of the Venice Film Festival this year, the film stands out because of its unique pacing, rhythm, and idiosyncratic storytelling approach.

Constructed in a layout reminiscent of a novel, ‘The Brutalist’ navigates through two main chapters, introduced by an overture, later divided by an intermission, followed by an ending epilogue. The film’s structure, in partnership with the varied narrative additions and digressions from screenwriting duo Corbet and Mona Fastvold, delivers a broad tale that remains rich in personal peculiarities and finer details. A multi-decade exploration of American themes, this film uses such construct to delve into the personal passions that fuel its creators.

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The narrative begins with a visual association with another historic film focusing on the Holocaust, namely ‘Son of Saul’. This association is cemented through the use of shaky camera work, similar to László Nemes’ aesthetic strategy, presenting the story largely over the shoulder and through the ears of the main protagonist, László Tóth. A survivor of the Holocaust himself, Tóth’s account is on the surface about a Jewish-Hungarian’s journey, yet at its core, it examines deeper human conditions.

The character Tóth, portrayed by Adrien Brody, shares eerie similarities with fellow survivor W?adys?aw Szpilman, a connection the audience will likely recognize. Furthermore, Brody’s casting is not a random choice but an artistic play on pre-existing cultural symbols. Brady Corbet’s desired impact extends beyond merely referencing Holocaust survivors, it offers an insightful examination of the period and the assimilation of immigrants in America.

This immigrant’s journey in discovering his ‘new world’ takes shape through the distinct imagery inspired by Saul Leiter and Edward Hopper, among other mid-century modernists. Corbet, working in tandem with Cinematographer Lol Crawley, visually presents this exploration. After an unsuccessful evening in a Bowery brothel, Tóth sets off for Philadelphia, where his only family in the United States resides.

In the background of Tóth’s journey is a significant change in the identity of his relative, Molnár, who now goes by Miller and has converted to Catholicism, reflecting one of the film’s central inquiries. Tóth, resembling several artists and immigrants from this era, poses an intriguing question: Does societal integration necessitate self-abandonment? How can an artist, whose craft is deeply entwined with their belief, adjust to cater to societal expectations, like transitioning from building synagogues to cathedrals?

Such keen contemplations are allowed to breathe in ‘The Brutalist’, as the creators cleverly refrain from rushing the audience towards an answer. The film takes its gentle time, providing an intricate peek into the post-war boom era, and allowing the audience to fully absorb and appreciate all the nuances. The first chapter chronicles Tóth’s relatively slow ascent to his success story, immersing audiences in a measured pace of storytelling.

Our main character, while tormented by drug addiction and severe grief, doesn’t quite exude the aura of an archetypical, all-American entrepreneur. Yet, he is an artist, and during the rise of the American empire, opportunities often present themselves. Tasked to build a small library by a wealthy local businessman, Tóth activates his artistic intuition, resulting in a creation of undeniable brilliance.

At first, the businessman, Harrison Lee Van Buren, seems to struggle to appreciate the beauty presented by Tóth. However, as his social contemporaries begin admiring his refined taste, he too starts to acknowledge the artistry within Tóth’s work. During the absence of Tóth’s wife and niece, who are stuck overseas, we get to witness a peculiar mutual admiration develop between Tóth and Van Buren.

Van Buren, with his charismatic charm and a John Huston-influenced persona, views Tóth as a beacon of poetic brilliance that money can’t buy. Meanwhile, Tóth sees in Van Buren the potential of a wealthy patron willing to support his artistic endeavors. Together they embark on a venture that aims to create a Brutalist monument as a testament to their shared accomplishments.

Tóth reaches the height of his unlikely success at the beginning of the film’s second chapter, marking a reunion with his wife, Erzsébet, and his niece, Zsofia, who are freed from Europe with the aid of Van Buren’s influential friends. However, the balance of cultural acceptance begins to tilt with the arrival of three distinctively European characters, challenging the largely WASP milieu and altering the interaction among these characters.

Tracking the shared disillusionment among the characters, the director Corbet transitions his visual elements towards homages to 1970s cinema. Paying tribute to ‘The Godfather’, we watch Corbet replace catechism with Yom Kippur, and a trip to Italy mirrors a scene from a Bertolucci film, complete with its provocative and sexually violent undertones.

In its entirety, ‘The Brutalist’ juxtaposes celebration and mourning of the American ambition; it examines the ambitions of an immigrant class seeking new lives with uncertain outcomes, against the backdrop of a filmmaker’s ambition of composing a visually rich work of art. As these layers of ambitions unfurl, we discover that the film echoes the essence of the human pursuit.