Corbet’s complex Brutalist rewards the patient
Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist is an anomaly in the current cinematic landscape. An emotional epic, it traces the course of one man’s efforts to rediscover his identity and place in society, taking its time to consider myriad aspects of his resurrection. Deliberately paced, the film runs well over three hours but never lags, as our investment in its complex, damaged protagonist, Laszlo Toth, is complete from the start. Thanks to Mona Fastvold and Corbet’s script, as well as towering performances from its three principals, the film is an emotionally immersive experience. It embraces its examination of how the effect of trauma manifests itself in its victims’ lives and work as well as the power of healing through art.
Brody and cinematographer Lol Crawley put us in Toth’s shoes (Adrien Brody) from the start, the film’s first shot a disoriented view of the Statute of Liberty as he emerges from the bowels of the steamer that’s brought him and other World War II refugees to the United States. The statute seen from an oblique angle suggests the freedom they seek will not come without difficulty. This is certainly the case for Toth, as he finds himself at loose ends after his cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who helped with his passage and invited him in his home, capitulates to his wife’s desire that he leave.
However, before this occurs, Attila, who owns a furniture store, gives Laszlo a commission to redesign the library of industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce). The result is not to the owner’s liking and soon the architect finds himself taking odd jobs to survive. Yet, Van Buren has a change of heart when outsiders compliment the room’s radical, striking design, which is eventually the focus of a Look magazine feature story. Realizing his mistake, he tracks down Toth, provides him with a home and promises to help rescue his wife, Erzsebet (Felicity Jones), and niece Zsofia (Raffey Cassidy) from a Hungarian refugee camp. Perhaps most importantly, he gives him a commission to build a community center, a building he hopes will help resurrect his career.
As the story plays out, we see Toth grapple with his past, the turmoil he suffered informing his decisions. Substance abuse to dull the pain as well as acts of self-destruction plague him. However, in many ways, it’s his hubris that’s his biggest hurdle, as the eternal conflict between commerce and art comes to divide him and Van Buren. Cost overruns and other unforeseen difficulties force the industrialist to scale back the project, a move Toth takes as a personal affront.
Yet, there’s more than ego at stake. Having built a reputation in pre-war Europe, Toth’s building of the community center is not simply the first step towards reestablishing himself, but an act of healing. The building is a reflection of where he’s been as well as where he is going, and to change it would impede his progress. When the project is in danger of being cancelled, Toth knows this would be a negation of himself, a blow to his psychic he may never recover from and desperately fights to avoid.
At its core, the film is a character study, but that doesn’t prevent Brody from also including a broadside aimed at the wealthy. Despite his seeming generosity towards Toth, Van Buren ultimately reveals himself to be just another opportunist willing to take advantage of the disadvantaged. Toth’s desperate need for resurrection leaves him vulnerable, a situation the industrialist comes to exploit in every way possible, leaving the architect shattered.
A towering achievement, The Brutalist is a film that will yield additional insights with multiple viewings. The power in its message of healing and reconciliation is only achieved due to its dense, complex nature. For those craving rewarding, challenging cinema, Brody’s work fits the bill. In theaters.
Listless Wolf Man a real howler
While I can’t begrudge Universal’s desire to continue to profit from these properties, it’s become obvious those hoping to squeeze a few more dollars out of the Frankenstein monster and his brethren don’t care about these characters’ legacy. They fail to realize these characters and titles come freighted with certain expectations. While it would be foolish to expect exacting remakes of the originals, at the very least, efforts to reinvent them requires at least a cursory nod to their histories. Failing to do so only results in disappointment in hardcore fans and, perhaps, unfair evaluations of these new films.
It’s obvious that examining the trauma and long-term effects of abuse are of interest to writer/director Leigh Whannell. This was the central theme of his vastly overrated 2020 re-do The Invisible Man, as well as his newest Universal feature, Wolf Man, an in-name only remake of the 1941 classic. Obviously, this is a worthy subject, one that has served as the basis for many a horror film in the past.
However, doing so under the banner of one of the Universal horror titles does the topic and characters a disservice. Whannel has taken all that made these films unique and pushed it to the background, concentrating instead on the more human, realistic elements of his theme. Had his two “remakes” come with different titles (The Battered Woman or Haunted), horror fans would have accepted them on their own merits, free of any expectations of watching an unseen, urbane mad scientist wreaking havoc or a cursed man transformed into a raging beast. Disappointment is to be expected with such an approach.
Whannell casts aside full moons and ancient curses, instead using domestic trauma and repressed anger as catalysts for unleashing the dark side of Blake (Christopher Abbott), an unemployed writer in a strained marriage. A sense of animosity has grown between he and his wife, Charlotte (Julia Garner), as she’s the breadwinner in the family. Their daughter, Ginger (Matilda Firth), can’t help but notice the tension between them.
In an effort to start fresh, Blake suggests they relocate to his deceased father’s farm in the Oregon mountains. Things go south quickly after their arrival as they are attacked by a mysterious beast. The wounds Blake suffers result in his transforming into a wild, violent creature, one driven by rage, oblivious to reason.
What ensues is a meandering siege drama that frustrates rather than thrills, its threadbare story coming apart before the titular creature makes its first appearance. As a director, Whannell isn’t clever enough to keep a single-setting movie engaging. Barricaded in the ramshackle home for much of the film, little in the way of suspense is created, Blake’s transformation and the revelation of his tortured history coming far too slowly.
Tedium trumps the terror, which is a shame as the work from the three principals is quite good. All of the characters go through respective transformations, each in the trio bringing a sincerity to their roles that nearly salvages the movie. Abbott, one of our most underrated, young actors, generates a great deal of empathy for Blake and the creature he becomes, so much so that the climax proves to be the most effective part of the film.
Unfortunately, Whannell’s approach mutes their fine work. Listless and lacking complexity, Wolf Man fails to tap into the rich history of the character and in doing so, dooms the project from the start. If you’re not going to include full moon curses, raging lupine man-beasts and a mob of frightened, superstitious citizens, you’d be advised to find another title for your movie. In theaters.
Moving Brave avoids cloying approach
At 8-years-old, Nathan Williams went through something no one should have to endure. He saw his abusive father kill his mother and then kill himself. With no family to take him in, he floundered about in the foster care system before setting out on his own in high school. Unbeknownst to his peers and teachers, he was living in his car, scrounging for food wherever he could find it and joined the school track team just so he could use the locker room showers.
Damian Harris’ Brave the Dark takes an unflinching look at Williams’ experiences as well as his road to recovery, a one-step forward, two-steps back journey in which the young man couldn’t get out of his own way to save himself. Fortunately, one of his teacher’s took notice, extending a lifeline the boy was reluctant to grab, yet ultimately yielded.
On the surface, Williams (Nicholas Hamilton) seems to be just another high schooler. A bit distant, he is beginning to excel on the track team, does reasonably well in his classes and has a girlfriend (Sasha Bhasin) he cares. That he’s able to hide that he is homeless from them all is a minor miracle. However, a lie as big as this can’t stay hidden. Desperate and short of money, he agrees to rob a local electronics store with two friends. They’re eventually caught, and when no one comes forward to post Williams’ bail, his secret is revealed.
Upon hearing the news, all of Williams’ teachers write him off, except for his English instructor, Stan Deen (Jared Harris). A bachelor, the veteran educator is grieving the recent death of his mother, his loneliness affecting his usual positive outlook. Sensing he may be able to connect with his student, he visits Williams in jail and decides to take a chance on the troubled young man.
The script by Dale Bradley, Lynn Hay and Harris is smart in the way it doesn’t sugarcoat the situation, recounting Williams’ struggle to come to terms with his trauma. Reticent to talk, his self-destructive actions speak for him. He questions Deen’s motives throughout, certain no one could care for him enough to be altruistic towards him, his anger getting the best of him, his behavior sabotaging his best intentions at every turn.
Dealing with his past is something Williams must sneak up on, taking baby steps on his way to facing his demons before attempting to heal. Not fully disclosed at first, a series of flashbacks are used to reveal the events that damaged him, Harris walking a fine line in recreating the horror of the situation but doing so as tastefully as possible. This approach puts us firmly in Williams’ shoes, the director creating a vicarious experience that allows us to share in this arduous and ultimately rewarding process. As such, Brave the Dark does Williams and his story justice, the film’s inspirational message emerging as a genuine by-product of a story sincerely told. In theaters.
This article appears in Jan 30 – Feb 5, 2025.
