By Diana Cuza. Cover image by Cristina Gonzalez Clavijo
One of the most impactful and meticulously crafted films I’ve seen in a very long time, Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist is a sweeping historical epic that has rightfully garnered critical acclaim and awards recognition. The film follows the journey of László Tóth, a Hungarian-Jewish architect and Holocaust survivor, described as “a principled artist” whose buildings possess a “hard core of beauty.”
As he escapes from Europe and arrives in post-World War II America with nothing but his determination and talent for architecture, László begins to build a career under the patronage of the wealthy Van Buren. However, this path tests his endurance and self-esteem in a rapidly evolving world that almost destroys him. Adrien Brody, who earned a well-deserved Oscar for Best Actor, delivers a fantastic performance in this film, arguably his best since The Pianist (2002), where he portrayed a similar character. He is supported by phenomenal actors like Felicity Jones and Guy Pearce, all of whom bring depth and emotion to their roles, elevating the film to another level.
The Brutalist Review: Monumental Cinema or Industry Darling?
The Brutalist Review: Deconstructing the American Dream, Frame by Frame
The story is divided into two parts. The first half is a deconstruction of the American Dream, while the second half takes a sledgehammer to it, presenting Làzló’s unique experience. Spanning 33 years and running for over three and a half hours—including a rare 15-minute intermission—The Brutalist is as much an experience as it is a film, showcasing mesmerising visuals, calculated frames and great performances.
The film achieves something that hasn’t been done in 61 years, and it’s one of the reasons it’s been nominated for numerous awards, including Best Picture in the Academy Awards. Director Brady Corbet chose to shoot entirely in Vista Vision, a widescreen format invented by Paramount in the 1950s. Although the format has fallen out in favour of modern filmmaking, it provides breathtaking visuals that amplify the story’s historical grandeur and align perfectly with its themes. Corbet stated that he believes the best way to access the period in which the film is set—the 1950s—was to film on something that was engineered in that same decade.
Obsession, Betrayal, Ruin: The Brutalist’s Central Relationship
The film weaves a complex and gripping narrative centred around the tense relationship between Tóth (Adrien Brody) and Van Buren (Guy Pearce). Their bond develops like a Faustian trap, drawing them into a growing spiral of creative obsession and moral decay. Corbet’s direction heightens every shift in their relationship, turning each brief moment of relief into another emotional explosion. Tóth’s relentless pursuit of architectural greatness clashes with Van Buren’s insatiable desire for control, creating an explosive dynamic between them.
What makes The Brutalist unsettling is how Corbet allows the small cracks in their partnership to widen into irreparable rifts. What begins as a shared vision turns into a dangerous power struggle, with both men trapped in each other’s ambition, bound together yet unable to escape. The film’s brilliance lies in how it makes these deeply personal moments feel universally relatable, revealing the darkest corners of human ambition.
Brody’s portrayal of Làzló is a masterclass in quiet desperation, making his Oscar win for Best Actor feel well deserved. Pearce is equally captivating, striking an uncanny balance of charm and control in his role as Van Buren, making him impossible to look away from. Their chemistry is so finely tuned that each actor pulls the other deeper into an emotional vice. As the story unfolds, their bond shifts from admiration to something toxic and inescapable, ultimately leading to a slow and devastating fall into moral ruin.
How Stunning Visuals Elevate Emotions
The cinematography in The Brutalist is visually stunning, with each frame resembling a work of art that could easily be displayed in a museum. Every shot is meticulously composed, exuding raw beauty that invites viewers to pause and reflect. With its extended runtime, the film gives you plenty of time to absorb each image, allowing thoughts to linger and the atmosphere to resonate.
Much like brutalist architecture itself, the minimalist approach of the cinematography creates space for personal interpretation and immersion. It stands as an art form in its own right, offering meaning through its structure and simplicity. This mirrors the imposing, stark designs of the protagonist, László Tóth, whose architectural creations dominate the film.
Shot in Vista Vision, the widescreen compositions emphasise the grandeur and rigid geometry of his buildings, highlighting their monolithic nature. Even the simplest shots, whether depicting quiet landscapes or intimate spaces, are infused with the film’s aesthetic. The interplay of light and shadow further accentuates the raw, unrefined materials of Tóth’s creations, reinforcing his internal isolation and emotional depth.
The Brutalist is not only visually mesmerising but also fully immersive. From the haunting image of a train exploding in the distance to the Statue of Liberty turning upside down and the raw, dreamlike, heroin-fuelled sex scene, every moment leaves a lasting impact. Equally powerful are the deeply emotional scenes, such as when Brody’s character, László collapses into sobs while his equally broken wife, Erzsébet, pleads with him to stay. The film’s multiple Golden Globe and Oscar nominations and wins solidified it as one of the most significant cinematic achievements of 2025, setting new standards for how visual artistry can elevate storytelling. With Lol Crawley’s Oscar win for Best Cinematography and Brody’s Best Actor win, the film proves that the combination of architecture and emotion can create something breathtaking and timeless on screen.
The Brutalist review about Ending: Subtle but Strong (No Spoilers, Promise!)
Some viewers may find the film’s ending understated, especially considering its sweeping narrative, but its simplicity actually enhances the film’s message. Rather than providing a grand conclusion, The Brutalist ends quietly, underscoring that ambition often comes at a personal cost.
The sudden shift from the emotional intensity of the final 45 minutes to the present-day conclusion may leave some feeling disappointed, as it breaks away from the immersive 1950s world the film has built. While the ending might seem simplistic—attempting to tie everything up neatly—Zsofia’s line, “it’s the destination, not the journey,” raises a compelling question: should we take it at face value? Zsofia, Lázló’s niece, delivers a brief, optimistic speech that offers a seemingly pleasant conclusion. However, the tonal shift is jarring, as the complex and uncomfortable atmosphere of the previous three hours gives way to upbeat music, digital footage, and celebration. This sudden change may reflect the younger generation’s tendency to overlook, or even ignore, uncomfortable truths.
Zsofia assures those around her that, in the end, Lázló’s journey was worthwhile: he secured a legacy and achieved the American Dream. Yet, the true cost of his path remains unknown to them. If it’s truly about the destination, what exactly was Lázló’s? He may have reached the peak of his career, but in the end, he remains unable to speak the truth, and his so-called “masterpiece” bears the name of the man who exploited him.
