Architecture and the new world: The Brutalist reframes the American dream

When architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody) is forced out of Hungary and escapes to Pennsylvania, he has no intention of seeking out the American dream. Dejected and alone his minimalist designs go unappreciated in the country of excess. But when an opportunistic millionaire, Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr (Guy Pearce), recognises László’s talent, the architect is quickly assigned to bring to life the rich man’s vanity project. And so begins The Brutalist, following László and his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) as the couple’s life in America is built and destroyed countless times at the behest of the Van Buren family. Brady Corbet’s third feature film, redefines the American epic to demonstrate how violence is a building block for ideology.

By telling an immigrant’s story through the world of architecture, the visual differences are all the more apparent. Lol Crawley’s cinematography stretches up into the stratosphere to show corporate skyscrapers of Philadelphia and the neo-colonial embellishments that accent the New York skyline. These moments are often dizzying, especially when the Statue of Liberty pierces the screen upside down, but the wonderment is scattered. America may be the beginning of the new world, but you can’t avoid the old world it came from.

László Tóth’s brutalist architecture visions stand in stark contrast to American architecture; height is more than just an egotistical flourish and decorative detailing is a superfluous affectation. In a country so eager to prove itself as an empire, the American contractor and architect that László works with cannot envision the beauty to be found in concrete or how function channelled into form has mesmerising potential.

These are the moments when The Brutalist shines brightest, as light, shadow and shape conquer the screen and leave the audience in wonder at the power of simplicity. But just as Brady Corbet demonstrated in his terrorist-infused pop drama Vox Lux, no artistic expression is beyond appropriation and even László Toth’s unshakeable structures can be co-opted for ideological purposes.

While the first half of The Brutalist lays the groundwork for László’s aesthetic and political ideology, the second half serves as a wrecking ball to everything he believes he knows about himself. As Brady Corbet and co-writer Mona Fastvold detail post-war America, we are privy to the conservatism of the United States that is presented as modernity, whether that be faux-secularism as the church funds the community building or the regular maltreatment of immigrants even as the nation prides itself on welcoming everyone.

For the Bauhaus-educated László and foreign policy journalist Erzsébet, what America has to offer seems meagre in comparison to the enlightened world they once knew, the United States offers modernity in image only.

Through the world of architecture, The Brutalist presents the audience with many of the flawed ideologies of the modern world, including the creation of the state of Israel and American neoliberalism. It’s an epic that explores the reality of the immigrant experience, and through the timeless potency of brutalism, demonstrates how political ideology and nation states are often built with corruption at the foundation.

The Brutalist is at cinemas from January 2025

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