Inferior design causes creaky ‘Brutalist’ to collapse
Overlong, overpraised and significantly undercooked, Brady Corbet’s 215-minute epic, “The Brutalist,” is nothing more than a rehash of the director’s familiar themes of decay in the good ol’ USA. Like his “Vox Lux” before it, “The Brutalist” chronicles the life of an artist whose career trajectory parallels the economic rise of a nation that rapidly emerged as a superpower after World War II then got fat and sloppy on a steady diet of arrogance. Apathy and indifference settled in, transforming a grand dream into a self-defeating nightmare. Yawn.
The only difference is that “The Brutalist” has high production values that should garner a plethora of technical Oscar nominations, from Lol Crawley’s cinematography to Judy Becker’s production design to Kate Forbes’ period costumes. Yet, to paraphrase an old saying, you can gussy up a hog, but as fancy as it might look, it’s still a hog. And so it is with “The Brutalist,” which, like its central character, Hungarian immigrant László Tóth, suffers from acute cases of overambition and self-adoration.
Despite hyperbolic claims by the film’s fans that Corbet is the second coming of Paul Thomas Anderson, I found his saga about a holocaust survivor swallowed up by America’s dream-killing machine to be derivative. Not just of Corbet’s own “Vox Lux,” but of dozens of other works by filmmakers from Elia Kazan to Barry Levinson to Francis Ford Coppola who’ve explored the phenomenon of American idealism crushed to dust. Perhaps that’s why “The Brutalist” is so predictable and labored, heavy on the Faustian myth.
In this case, the great Satan is waspy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (a superbly unctuous Guy Pearce), and his malleable new toy is Adrien Brody’s László, one of Hungary’s most celebrated architects in the period just before the war. Arising from the ruins of Budapest, László is penniless and without his journalist wife, Erzsébet (a grating Felicity Jones), and teenage niece, Zsófia (“Vox Lux” standout Raffey Cassidy), both of whom he’s been separated thanks to bureaucratic red tape.
The plan is for Erzsébet and Zsófia to join László in Philadelphia once he’s established. After all, that’s the American Dream, right? Or so László believes as he settles in with his fully assimilated cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who made every effort to erase all traces of the old country, including quashing his Hungarian accent and changing his name. He’s also landed a gorgeous American bride in Emma Laird’s Audrey, who seems to harbor some disdain for László, who’s taken up residence in the backroom of the couple’s custom-made furniture store.
Audrey comes to regard László as a hindrance to be rid of. And after a night of revelry and flirtatious dance initiated on her part, she falsely accuses him of making a pass. Of course, Atilla, her hon, tosses cuz out on his ass. Welcome to America, László, in all its evil and antisemitism. From here on, it’s mostly downhill for László, as Corbet and his partner and co-writer Mona Fastvold take their protagonist on a wild plunge into the depths of American unexceptionalism. This includes a nasty heroin addiction abetted by menial jobs and concerted marginalization by the natives.
This is what makes László easy prey for the devil when he assumes the pleasing shape of the almighty Harrison Lee Van Buren, the same man who in a frenzy gave László the boot some years ago for spoiling his prized library with a radical remodel. But in the years since, László’s unique style has become the subject of adoration by the architectural community. Now, Harrison seeks absolution by hiring László as his resident designer.
It’s the beginning of a volatile relationship in which László’s artistic purity is repeatedly challenged and defiled by something so miniscule as cost overruns. László is angry and frustrated, but these setbacks feed his martyr complex and at the same time provide a convenient excuse to further indulge his love of heroin. Corbet and Fastvold insist on repeating László’s pattern of victory soon followed by defeat. And in a 215-minute movie, that’s asking a lot of our patience.
By the time “Part 2” kicks in, you’re ready for it to be over. But Corbet is just getting started, as Erzsébet, now confined to a wheelchair due to crippling osteoporosis, and Zsófia, so traumatized she refuses to speak, arrive in Pennsylvania to discover their beloved László engulfed by darkness. He resists Erzsébet’s sexual advances, growing more distant by the day. Given how annoyingly cloying Jones renders Erzsébet, you can hardly blame him.
Brody also begins to wear out his welcome after a strong start. By Part 2, I found myself chuckling at his emoting. Only Pearce maintains a steady presence throughout the entire arc. He comes close to mustache-twirling but never devolves into parody. He’s such a commanding presence that he often steals the movie right out from under Brody. No wonder the latter starts overplaying.
At least he has something to do, which isn’t the case for Cassidy, who is allotted zero dialogue. Ditto for Stacy Martin and Joe Alwyn as Harrison’s twin adult children playing good cop/bad cop. It’s even worse for the film’s lone actor of color, Isaach de Bankolé, as Gordon, László’s constant and loyal companion through thick and thin. I guess you could interpret his underwritten role as reflective of an era when Black men were expected to remain in the background. But that would be giving Corbet and Fastvold too much credit.
I have no beef with the couple’s thinking big, but I do call them on their inability to effect their epic, ultimately resorting to desperate attempts to make “The Brutalist” greater than it is. It just didn’t need to be this long, detailed and ultimately trying. It also could have used a bit of levity beyond those unintentional laughs surfacing during the film’s disappointing back nine. “The Brutalist” isn’t awful; in fact, at times it’s brilliant. But sitting through Corbet’s opus is onerous, an architectural digest that gave me heartburn.
Movie review
The Brutalist
Rated: Not rated
Cast: Adrien Brody, Guy Pearce, Felicity Jones, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Isaach De Bankolé, Alessandro Nivola and Emma Laird
Director: Brady Corbet
Writers: Brady Corbet and Mona Fastvold
Runtime: 215 minutes
Where: In theaters Dec. 20 (limited) before expanding in January
Grade: B-
