The Brutalist : Austin Film Festival Review

                     Every once in a while, a movie comes along that feels like an earthquake. I think tremors, however, are felt at different frequencies by different people, meaning certain movies impact individuals uniquely. Sometimes, though, those tremors are felt by nearly everyone, and this is the case with The Brutalist, as it feels like a certain kind of systemic event. This is one of those movies that you feel in your soul, and for cinema lovers out there, there’s before The Brutalist, and after.

It’s the end of World War II, and László Tóth (Adrien Brody) has made his way to America. Tóth hasn’t arrived complete, as he has left behind his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and his niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), as they were separated during the war. Upon his arrival, László is given a job and a place to live by his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who owns a furniture store. In Europe, László was a renowned architect, but in America, he has to use his skills in other ways. An opportunity comes when a man named Harry Lee (Joe Alwyn) approaches Attila with a request to surprise his father with a library in their home. László creates a masterpiece, but Harry Lee’s father, Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce), is not fond of the surprise. This job ultimately causes Attila to kick László out, and he is left taking odd jobs to survive. However, Mr. Van Buren Sr. tracks him down, not only to pay him for the library but to ask him to help create a building that will stand the test of time. László agrees, setting up a tale of beauty, betrayal, and the American dream.

Written by Mona Fastvold and Brady Corbet, the latter also directing, The Brutalist is a vision of light and darkness wrapped in a complex period tale. Clocking in at a little over three and a half hours, The Brutalist never feels its runtime, as there’s always something that holds your attention. The message at the story’s center is simple, timeless, and always debatable: Is the destination worth the journey? The first half of the film alone buzzes with an improvisational spirit and grandeur that’s overflowing—something that captivates the mind, body, and cinematic spirit.

The Brutalist is ultimately a story of triumph and failure told in epic form, but in a way that feels refreshingly unique. Corbet has succeeded in crafting something impactful, due in large part to his unwavering commitment to his vision. Enhancing the film’s beauty and intensity are the performances, led by Brody and Pearce. Brody completely disappears into László, committing body and soul to the role and embodying the character’s drive, unwavering spirit, and anguish. Matching him blow for blow is Pearce, who brings a chilling presence to Van Buren; while there’s a twisted cruelty beneath, Pearce makes Van Buren feel disturbingly human. Altogether, The Brutalist is an unparalleled cinematic experience and an epic in every sense of the word. As I finish this review, praising a near-perfect film, I think back to Jodie Foster’s line in Contact: “They should have sent a poet.” That sentiment rings true here, as a poet’s words might be the only ones able to do The Brutalist justice.