Review by Zach Dennis
When Lazlo (Adrien Brody) arrives in America, he’s greeted by the Statue of Liberty veering over him. She blocks the sun as if shielding him from everything before – nothing can hurt you and the worst of it is over. Composer Daniel Blumberg’s score is introduced like pistons in motion, clanging against the steel of progress; as if you are punching a clock. In The Brutalist, this is not salvation or an ordinary 9-to-5, this is a job. You are no longer a human but a commodity or tool for America – the same as a hammer. And once you use yourself up, or a better (or more cheaper) tool presents itself, you’re discarded.
Laszlo has reason to rejoice. It is 1947 – the war is over – and he is set for new pastures. A Holocaust survivor, he starts by living in Philadelphia with his brother in law Atilla (Alessandro Nivola) and his wife Audrey (Emma Laird). Attila has made a life for himself here – the real American dream.
A furniture salesman, he puts Laszlo, a former architect, to work when he receives a hefty commission from Harry Lee Van Buren (Joe Alwyn), a son of a wealthy businessman who wants to surprise his father with a new study. Unbeknownst to him, Laszlo is a word-class architect, only losing his position when his work in Hungary was not deemed Germanic enough by the Third Reich. He is also Jewish. A minimalist, modern marvel is designed but quickly discarded when the elder Van Buren, Harrison Lee (Guy Pearce), returns home early and has an outburst. The family won’t pay them and Laszlo is kicked to the street by his family. He only resurfaces when Van Buren finds him working in coal and construction and proposes a job: an institute for the community to honor his late mother — with the design entirely in Laszlo’s vision.
In his life, Laszlo has seen how dispensable humans can view other humans. While neer seen, his time in the concentration camp made that clear. “This is like him redoing a kitchen,” his wife Elizabet (Felicity Jones) reminds him as the architect sinks into despair at the state of his project in the second half of the film. He didn’t listen at first when Harry Lee said to him that “we tolerate you, Laszlo.” For Laszlo, the building is an expression – one of the power, the matter, and might around him, but also a monument to his skill and ability. To Van Buren, he connects it to Laszlo’s idealism of leaving behind a part of himself that will endure. Van Buren is about legacy and the power he can wield over others. It’s neither of their visions that will endure, but the might of money. Laszlo gets too comfortable in his sojourn at their estate and is incensed when he is dropped from the project after a tragedy befalls the build. He sees himself in the building, but in America, it is no longer a work of art but a work of commodity.
Director Brady Corbet instills that into you. The film works like an engine propelling forward – no time for reflection, not time to revel in it… the task must be completed. At four hours long, it would seem that economy isn’t at the forefront but decades of time have to pass as the building grinds to completion.
As the build goes along, they rip apart the beautiful countryside in Pennsylvania where the ziggurat will stand. Progress means the hollowing out of the natural to make room for the modern. In order for Laszlo to complete his vision, he has to hollow out himself and lose himself in the process. By that point, he’s become an American. He is entertainment to the families – a foreigner who they can keep around to get drunk and order around. What else is he going to do? He needs the money.
The Brutalist finds an ending but never feels complete. We feel the motion of this journey, but not the destruction. In the epilogue, the grown version of Laszlo’s niece Zsofia (Ariane Labed) says that life is about the destination. I’m not sure we ever find one – we’re still living it.