‘The Brutalist’ Review: A Modern Masterpiece in American Cinema
Guy Pearce, Adrien Brody and Isaach de Bankolé in 'The Brutalist.' Photo: Focus Features, Universal Pictures
Brady Corbet's The Brutalist tells the story of a Hungarian architect who flees to the United States after World War II and becomes entangled in the complexities of the American Dream. With its sprawling narrative, meticulous attention to detail, and breathtaking cinematography, the film channels the epic storytelling of 1970s cinema. Corbet has crafted a bold, visionary work that stands as one of the most ambitious American films of recent years.
Clocking in just under four hours
and channeling the vibe of 1970s epics,
Brady Corbet's story of an architect struggling to realize a dream project is an instant classic
A terrific Adrien Brody anchors this three-and-a-half-hour American saga whose ambitions end up exceeding its grasp. Photo: Focus Features, Universal Pictures
Imagine stumbling upon a dusty vault in Hollywood, uncovering lost reels of an epic cinematic project from the likes of Francis Ford Coppola or Bernardo Bertolucci. That is the kind of nostalgic, awe-inspiring essence that Brady Corbet has managed to capture in The Brutalist. The film, an ambitious and deeply human saga, feels like a time capsule of cinema's golden era, as if it belongs to the sprawling masterpieces of the 1970s. Clocking in at three and a half hours—complete with an overture and an intermission—this film demands its audience's time, attention, and emotional investment, but it rewards them richly for it.
The Brutalist is set against the backdrop of post-World War II America, following the journey of László Tóth, a Hungarian Jewish architect who has survived the horrors of Europe and escaped to the United States. Played with quiet intensity by Adrien Brody, László arrives in Pennsylvania to be taken in by his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who runs a modest furniture-making business with his wife. The story unfolds as László attempts to reclaim a sense of purpose by resurrecting his career in architecture, even as he struggles with the trauma of his past and the complexities of adapting to the American way of life.
Brody, in a career-best performance, captures both the vulnerability and resilience of László. He is a man marked by loss, haunted by his experiences, yet driven by an unyielding vision. The film portrays his initial attempts to assimilate, adjusting to a society that seems to reward conformity over authenticity. Attila, who has changed his name to sound more "American" and adopted an easier-to-digest identity, embodies the compromise of assimilation, a path László struggles to reconcile.
The turning point in László's journey comes with a commission to redesign the library of wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren, portrayed with charisma and menace by Guy Pearce. This library, an unexpected opportunity for László, quickly becomes both a professional rebirth and a Faustian bargain. Harrison is unpredictable, cultured, and demanding—a figure who holds the power to make or break László's dream. The dynamic between Brody and Pearce is electric, a compelling dance of power, artistry, and control. Harrison's manipulative presence offers László a taste of artistic fulfillment but at a profound personal cost, eventually chaining him to a cycle of obligation and ambition.
Alessandro Nivola and Adrien Brody in ‘The Brutalist.’ Photo: Focus Features, Universal Pictures
The visual language of The Brutalist is evocative of classic American epics, with its sweeping cinematography and lush production design. Shot in 35mm and shown in select festivals on 70mm film, the decision to use such formats adds to the vintage grandeur of the movie. Lol Crawley's cinematography captures both the vastness of America and the intimate, often claustrophobic inner world of László. The film's architecture, befitting its title, plays a central role, almost becoming a character in its own right—the buildings László designs are stark, pro-structuralist expressions of his tumultuous inner state.
This sense of artistic control is what defines The Brutalist as a deeply personal work for Brady Corbet. Corbet, along with co-writer Mona Fastvold, spent seven years crafting this story, and every moment on screen reflects the labor and love poured into it. His previous films, The Childhood of a Leader and Vox Lux, hinted at his ambition, but The Brutalist is a true leveling up. Here, Corbet doesn't just pay homage to his influences; he boldly asserts his own vision as a filmmaker with something profound to say about the American experience and the price of success.
The performances are uniformly outstanding. Alongside Brody, Felicity Jones delivers a nuanced portrayal as Erzsebét, László's wife, whose struggle to join her husband in America speaks to the painful dislocation experienced by many families in the post-war era. Raffey Cassidy as their young niece Zsófia brings heartbreaking vulnerability to the role, while Isaach De Bankolé stands out as Gordon, László's confidant who offers brief respites of warmth in an otherwise cold world. Alessandro Nivola, too, shines as Attila, whose journey of assimilation stands in stark contrast to László's fight to maintain his identity.
One of the most striking aspects of The Brutalist is how it depicts the immigrant experience. László's story is one of dislocation, alienation, and resilience—his dreams of architectural grandeur clash against the harsh realities of economic survival and societal pressures. His journey is emblematic of the broader struggle faced by countless immigrants who, despite their talents and ambitions, find themselves battling an unwelcoming system. The film does not shy away from the ugliness of this struggle, instead embracing its complexity with raw honesty.
The narrative spans three decades, following László's rise and eventual unraveling. The American Dream, as depicted here, is fraught with pitfalls—a beautiful illusion that, while attainable, exacts a heavy toll. Corbet's script does not indulge in easy sentimentality; rather, it confronts the sacrifices demanded by ambition and the moral compromises that often accompany success. There is a palpable sense of melancholy that permeates the film, an acknowledgment that even the most beautiful architectural creations cannot fill the void left by human loss and disconnection.
While The Brutalist may not be a perfect film, with some pacing issues and moments where its ambition slightly overreaches, these flaws are minor compared to the magnitude of what Corbet achieves. This is a film that dares to aim high, that refuses to conform to the increasingly narrow expectations of modern American cinema. Its ambition, its willingness to grapple with grand themes, and its sheer scale make it a standout achievement in contemporary filmmaking.
In its final moments, The Brutalist offers a coda that feels both inevitable and devastating. László's architectural achievements are recognized, but the cost of those achievements—to himself, to his loved ones—is laid bare. It is a sobering reminder of the sacrifices demanded by greatness, and the human wreckage that often lies in its wake. Corbet, Brody, and the entire cast and crew have created a work of art that feels monumental, a film that resonates long after the credits roll.
TCG Score: ★★★★½ [4.5/5]
Whatch the Trailer for ‘the Brutalist’ Below:
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