[NoHo Arts District, CA] – This month’s movie and TV reviews of The Brutalist and A Complete Unknown.
If you’re going to dislike The Brutalist the way I did, then you at least owe it to yourself to see it on the big screen, as the cinematography is indeed impressive (using the VistaVision process) And in that same theater, you can avail yourself of the fifteen-minute intermission, something that Marty Scorsese doesn’t grant the viewer with his more recent lengthy epics. However, unlike director Brady Corbet’s overly indulgent and patience-testing cinematic slog, Scorsese’s films are reasonably entertaining (albeit with some flaws), well-paced, and offer some sense of satisfaction in the (very) long run.
The Brutalist doesn’t offer anything approximating that sense of satisfaction. What it does offer is Adrien Brody as Laszlo Toth, a Jewish Holocaust survivor and trained architect who emigrates to the U.S. and stays with his cousin Attila (and his Catholic wife) while he tries to find work. Luckily his cousin Attila (who owns a furniture store) lets Laszlo work with him; unluckily, while they’re renovating the library of uber-wealthy Harrison van Buren (Guy Pearce) secretly, at the behest of the son, an enraged Harrison fires the men and reneges on the fee. However, time (and some glowing notices for the new living room) soften Harrison’s hard heart and he finds Laszlo (who by this time has been shown the door, courtesy of some unfounded accusations from Attila’s wife) and commissions Laszlo for a new, ambitious project—a community center with a library, theater, and chapel. And so the bulk of the film is Laszlo and how he copes with his own uneasiness, his feeling that he is not entirely accepted (and quite possibly being screwed) by Harrison and his entourage, and his frustration at not being with his wife (who has been detained). The feeling that he doesn’t belong only intensifies after his wife (Felicity Jones) does arrive, along with their silent niece Zsofia.
There are many weighty themes on The Brutalist’s plate: the pain of assimilation, the immigrant experience, exploitation by the so-called benefactors, the question of identity, the idea of belonging—and the agony of drug addiction (although Brody’s Laszlo seems to function pretty well—until…). And yet, the movie proceeds at a funereal pace, every thought and idea is given unnecessary emphasis, scenes linger far too long, characters behave in confounding (and not entirely credible) ways, and…just when it gets really interesting (if not entirely plausible) courtesy Felicity Jones’ impassioned portrayal, there is a confusing and unnecessary epilogue. Confusing because it raises conflicting questions (my chief one was how did Laszlo find work after the events immediately preceding the coda) and unnecessary because by this time, I didn’t care. And a final statement (from a new character) essentially negates all that went before (you’ll know the statement when you hear it.) In any case, in order to fully not appreciate The Brutalist, see it on the big screen. And by all means…use the intermission wisely.
A better choice for your film viewing time (and money) would be to see A Complete Unknown, starring the very busy Timothee Chalamet as Bob Dylan of the early-to-mid 1960s, when he was bursting upon the New York City folk music scene, doing covers, composing Blowin’ in the Wind, then marching to the beat of his own drummer—a beat that insists upon his being more experimental and daring than the folk environment (represented by Edward Norton’s paternal and protective Pete Seeger and Monica Maria Barbaro’s passionate Joan Baez) might be prepared for. (All this while juggling the attentions of both Baez and Elle Fanning’s Sylvie.)James Mangold’s script and direction beautifully recreate the bustling, frantic folk scene of 1960s New York, presenting Chalamet’s Dylan as a gifted artist who is awkward, innovative, unpredictable, uncompromising, and occasionally infuriating. Mangold also makes the choice of doing the songs (and there are many) live, and the performers do a uniformly fine job of capturing the essence of these performers in their prime. Chalamet is an excellent Dylan, whether as the reserved newcomer or in his no less awkward but more arrogant phase; however, the secret weapons here are Norton’s sincere and fiercely protective Seeger, and Barbaro’s committed and competitive Baez. Both performers enhance the film immeasurably, helping A Complete Unknown earn a rightful place among this year’s award-worthy films.