The Brutalist

Nominated for 10 Oscars including Best Picture, The Brutalist is a sweeping, visually stunning film that unfolds like a novel. It captures the story of a flawed Jewish Hungarian man whose life follows the arc of post-war history, from violence and trauma to displacement and a new life in New York, where the Statue of Liberty awaits.

In this story, she appears upside down. Rife with symbolism and teeming with big themes that defined the latter half of the 20th century, the story follows László’s pursuit of imposing architectural visions, a quest that mirrors his search for a better life. Adrien Brody captures his brilliance and humanity while laying bare his weaknesses, from his drinking and obsessive tendencies to his emotional withdrawal. It’s a layered portrayal that makes him relatably human, if not always admirable.

Felicity Jones captures the quiet strength and resilience of a devoted wife bound to a wheelchair after enduring years of dire living conditions during the separation from her husband. Her presence anchors the film’s emotional core: a love story that is touching yet tumultuous, with all the complexities of shared dreams, traumas and personal limitations.

As László’s benefactor, Guy Pearce’s Harrison Lee Van Buren – a wealthy industrialist who backs László’s architectural visions – is a mix of admiration and insecurity, leveling cruel remarks that stem from his own struggles. In moments of artistic passion, Van Buren’s genuine love of architecture softens his sharp edges and gives him more depth. Yet his character stayed with me as one of the year’s most memorable villains.

It’s the friendship between László and Gordon (Isaach de Bankolé) that brings a welcome contrast to the film’s darker moments. Gordon’s own struggles as a Black man raising a son alone reflect the pervasive prejudices of the era, but his compassion brings out László’s own. Their ability to connect is what I loved most about the film. Given the era and the ambitions of a newly-arrived immigrant, László could have easily distanced himself from Gordon. But he chooses a different path.

Visually, the film is a masterpiece. Shot on film, the sweeping shots of New York’s evolving skyline, the old-world charm of Venice, and Europe’s stark landscapes stir the imagination as they capture both the grandeur and the intimacy, deepening the film’s emotional impact.

Telling a story that crosses continents and eras, with a run time more than double that of many other features, I wondered if the film could sustain my interest.  Yet despite it’s length, there’s a fluid, operatic quality to the narrative that surprisingly kept me mostly in its grip, more than I expected.  Notably, the inclusion of an intermission adds a theatrical touch rarely seen in modern cinema. (I’d definitely use it for a pee break.)

The Brutalist isn’t just about architecture. It’s a story about the structures we build within ourselves to survive and the ones we build to connect with others.