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The Brutalist is a grand, ambitious work of cinema, evoking a sense of old-fashioned filmmaking with its sweeping narrative and technical artistry. Director and co-writer Brady Corbet undertakes a monumental challenge, both narratively and technically, crafting a film that not only spans significant themes but also comes to life with bold technical ambition. It was shot using now-rarely-used VistaVision 70mm film stock, was filmed in just 33 days, and cost $US10 million to make (for a film of this size, that budget is very small). At three-and-a-half hours in length (there’s also an intermission), the film remains engaging throughout, boasting stunning craftsmanship and commanding performances.
Corbet ambitiously explores a wide range of topics, from the immigrant experience and the evolution of the United States, to the intersections of power, sexuality, and ambition. It’s often emotionally stirring and incredibly immersive. It also feels deeply personal, thrusting us up close to this man’s pros and cons – warts and all.
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There are moments that will break your heart. Some parts will shock you. Other moments may frustrate with their lack of closure, but they may spark up discussions afterwards – and that could very well be the point. By the time the credits roll, you feel as though you’ve witnessed a life unfold – a journey through an era, a man’s struggles, and a moral odyssey.
The screenplay is layered with discussions on obsession, sexuality, repression, ambition, the moral complexities of success. It’s arguable that Corbet may be exploring too much, seeing as not all themes on the table are able to be looked at with equal depth and certain narrative threads are left dangling like unfinished strokes on a larger canvas.


In the lead role, Adrien Brody is sensational. It’s a fully embodied performance, elevating further what’s an already meaty role on the page. László Tóth is proud, resilient, pained, gifted. He’s also an immigrant, far from home, attempting to navigate the complexities of life in the United States. Brody gives us a deeply immersive portrayal, capturing both László’s external struggles and internal conflicts. Guy Pearce is also very strong here. He is another conflicted character, one that you could safely say serves as an antagonist, but who also – with some amusing, purposely ham-fisted moments of cockiness – provides some touches of humour and even charm. Felicity Jones, Joe Alwyn, and Alessandro Nivola also provide solid turns.
The technical achievement on display in The Brutalist is undeniable. Cinematographer Lol Crawley provides striking compositions, with a seemingly loose fluidity to camera movement that incorporates a variety of techniques – from long takes to hand-held shots that feel as though they were captured on the fly. Editor Dávid Jancsó weaves sequences together with fluid precision. The impressive score by Daniel Blumberg, in only his second feature, is evocative, grand, haunting. It’s a team that is firing on all cylinders.
That said, The Brutalist does falter in the final act. After such a sprawling journey, the conclusion feels hurried, offering a brief sequence that struggles to fully encapsulate the film’s scope and emotional resonance. While it’s commendable that Corbet avoids overly saccharine sentimentality, the creative decisions here didn’t quite resonate with me. The decision to go with stylised, era-specific visuals creates a sudden sense of distance, and the way that certain themes are tied up feels overly tidy. That’s all I can really say about the ending to avoid spoilers.
Despite some flaws, The Brutalist remains a captivating drama – an epic tale of a complex, troubled man struggling to defy the odds, propelled by an unwavering determination to preserve his dignity and purpose. For those willing to embrace its considerable length and moments of unevenness, The Brutalist stands as an impressive achievement well worth experiencing.