It is a staggering, unflinching portrait of artistic ambition and human endurance, sprawling across decades and continents in the wake of World War II.
More than just a period drama, it is a study of exile and assimilation, a meditation on the cost of creation, and a reckoning with the collision of ideology and commerce. True to its title, The Brutalist does not invite comfort—it demands submission.
At its center is László Tóth, played by Adrien Brody in what is arguably his finest performance since “The Pianist.” A Jewish-Hungarian architect and Holocaust survivor, László arrives in America as a refugee, his talent and vision intact but his soul fractured.
He steps into postwar Philadelphia with nothing, quickly discovering that the land of opportunity does not readily extend its hand to outsiders. Corbet’s film is structured around László’s relentless push forward: from near destitution to artistic notoriety, from the cold welcome of a cousin (Alessandro Nivola) to the predatory patronage of an industrialist (Guy Pearce, in a turn that is both chilling and darkly comic).
The film moves like an epic novel; each chapter is a new test of resilience, and each encounters a new excavation of power and compromise.
What makes “The Brutalist” so unshakable is Corbet’s ability to weave grand themes into the intimate contours of his characters’ lives. László’s story is not just one of artistic struggle; it is a commentary on displacement, assimilation, and the uneasy relationship between modernism and the institutions that finance it.
His designs, stark and uncompromising, reflect his own attempt to impose order on a chaotic world—only to find that the forces funding his work care little for his ideals. The film’s emotional center, however, lies in the long-delayed reunion with his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and their daughter, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), whose trauma has rendered her mute. Their relationship is not the triumphant homecoming one might expect; it is fragile, laden with the unspoken weight of what was lost.
Visually, “The Brutalist” is breathtaking. I had the opportunity to check this film out at the Miraj IMAX in Wadala, which is considered to be India’s biggest iMax and boy, it does not disappoint! The film is a feast of precise compositions and towering imagery.
Corbet and cinematographer Lol Crawley create a world that feels both vast and inescapable, where architectural lines dominate, and human figures seem small against the weight of history. The production design immerses us in the mid-century aesthetic, while the score—haunting and operatic—infuses even the quietest moments with a sense of grandeur.
At over three and a half hours (including a rare, old-school 15-minute intermission), “The Brutalist” does not ask for patience so much as it commands it. It is not an easy watch, nor does it strive to be. Corbet has made a film that demands engagement, a work that is simultaneously about the past and eerily relevant to the present.
In its brutal honesty, relentless ambition, and refusal to cater to conventional storytelling comforts, “The Brutalist” cements itself as one of the most formidable cinematic achievements of recent years. It is not merely a film—it is a monument.
