The Brutalist
Metaphysical Movie Reviews™ by Robert Tobin
2024 co-production (U.S., the United Kingdom, and Hungary).
Directed by Brady Corbet, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Mona Fastvold.
Cast includes Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, and Guy Pearce.
Running time: 216 minutes.
In “The Stoic Challenge,” William Irvine describes ancient Romans’ proclivity to approach seeming impediments not as obstacles to avoid but rather hurdles to overcome.
A title like “The Brutalist,” and an overture, intermission, and epilogue extending three-and-a-half hours, gives this movie almost as many stay-away warnings as Academy Award nominations (ten).
But those who overcome such hurdles will find themselves intrigued intellectually, informed historically, and challenged spiritually by a production meeting the simplest, clearest definition of art: it makes us feel.
This film renders a florid fictional portrayal of truth(s) emerging when real people encounter harsh realities. There is an acclaimed architect separated from his wife and orphaned niece in midst of the Hungarian Holocaust. He makes his way to a Pennsylvania relative who is helpful until suddenly not. Similar ‘help’ is then provided by a highly successful neighboring businessman having all the good intentions by which the road to hell is paved. This family’s eventual reunion and ongoing survival are threatened once again by the same brutalizing fear-based hatred which initially divided it. Cumulative impacts on all involved forge an emotional toxicity which, as Mark Twain predicted, corrodes the vessel in which it is contained.
Atypical layout of the opening credits and disjointed introductory camera shots quickly dislodge any subliminal expectations about entertainment and storytelling. Inverted angles of the Statue of Liberty further dispel any similarity to typical self-congratulatory tales giving more prominence to locals’ hospitality than immigrants’ perseverance. From there, “The Brutalist” delineates a societal dilemma as hard to deny as it is easy to ignore.
Sporadic disassociation between audio and visual tracks mirrors the sometimes-rattling dimensions of Real Life, while continual flip-flopping of good/bad characters disturbs our left-brain’s proclivity toward consistent binary categorization. Late 1940s chamber-of-commerce videos are interspersed to celebrate not just a place to live, but also a way of life in which a proliferating middle-class masks growing disparity between rich and poor. These videos’ sunny disposition contrasts jarringly with the discontentment and disrespect this story’s ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’ display toward themselves and each other.
All of this unfurls – or, more accurately: unravels – within the context of building construction using the architectural style for which the film is named. It is no coincidence Brutalism emerged in Eastern European countries during their foreign occupation after World War II, describing a design template of exposed structural components completely monochromic and unadorned. A common critique is the cold, dehumanizing effect of resulting facilities on interpersonal relationships foisted around and within them … and throughout this movie.
In “The Brutalist,” the past is prologue to a wide variety of present-day discombobulations. Among these: foreign dystopias in which home becomes horrific; myriad disruptions of involuntary displacement; self-deceptions justifying everyday deceits; conflicts triggered when both spouses are working; pain-relievers with consequences more problematic than the injuries they treat; and influences of class and culture that foster casual, often unconscious correlations between ethnicity, poverty, capability, and possibility.
Regarding the most prominent of these gulfs – migration, the lessons of an ancient empire are again advisory. In the second of his eleven volume “Story of Civilization,” historian Will Durant says the Romans built no border walls until they did no good. He finds this to be a consequence of history’s most recurring nightmare: the lean and mean always take over the fat and happy. “The Brutalist” puts us at the center of this ongoing epic battle in which winners and losers are difficult to differentiate.
At the end it becomes clear “The Brutalist” is not any single one of the narrative’s distinctive characters. Rather, it describes a way of being all of them – and us as well – can become ensnarled when good intentions get more attention than actual effects. The script’s stark depiction of barriers to communication with those we love makes even more ominous our difficulty connecting with those we don’t.
Like some great works of art, this one imitates life at its most profound and unnerving. The tale’s protagonists demonstrate a very human propensity described by every psychologist since Buddha, i. e. accusing others of that which we are most guilty. Their weaknesses, as Socrates observed, are their strengths taken to excess. Their tendency to react rather than respond in crisis situations reveals our psyche’s simultaneous inclinations toward dominance and brittleness. And their racism and sexism share a symptom in common with mental illness and alcoholism, all of which constantly tell us we don’t have it.
All dramas – comic or tragic – arise from people concurrently pursuing respective interests. No one, author David Deida notes, can protect us from the “necessary confrontation with reality” which results.
But this chance to witness the impact of global forces on small-town residents in the safety of our neighborhood theater, or in the comfort of our couch at home, may offer the nearest opportunity to see ourselves in others, and them in us.
This makes “The Brutalist” not so much a show to enjoy as an experience to be savored.
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Robert Tobin has been playing with words and music for seven decades.
He is the father of four, stepfather to four, and grandfather to ten who are brightening our prospects for a kind and loving world.