The past comes to life as a whole enveloping world in The Brutalist, Brady Corbet’s fine-grained, novelistic third feature as director, about a man of genius who gets to taste the American Dream but also feel the stinging humiliation of a conditional welcome that turns ice-cold. While there are echoes of The Fountainhead, this expansive story of a brilliant Bauhaus-trained Hungarian Jewish architect who survives World War II and starts a new life in Pennsylvania is a provocative original.
Written by Corbet with his partner and regular collaborator Mona Fastvold, The Brutalist is closer to the churning ideas and dark view of power in the director’s debut feature, The Childhood of a Leader, than his more polarizing disquisition on contemporary celebrity, Vox Lux. But it represents a vast leap in scope from both, contemplating such meaty themes as creativity and compromise, Jewish identity, architectural integrity, the immigrant experience, the arrogant insularity of privilege and the long reach of the past.
The Brutalist
The Bottom Line As bold and ambitious as the project it chronicles.
Venue: Venice Film Festival (Competition)
Cast: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Emma Laird, Isaach De Bankolé, Alessandro Nivola
Director: Brady Corbet
Screenwriters: Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold
3 hours 35 minutes
Reportedly the first American film fully produced in VistaVision since One-Eyed Jacks in 1961, it screens in its Venice Film Festival premiere in 70mm, a giant canvas amply justified by the narrative’s variegated textures.
Running a densely packed three-and-a-half hours, including a built-in intermission with entr’acte, the enthralling movie hands Adrien Brody his best role in years as gifted architect László Tóth, ushered through fortune’s door by a wealthy tycoon eager to bankroll his dream project and then viciously cut down to size when his patron is displeased.
Brody pours himself into the character with bristling intelligence and internal fire, holding nothing back as he viscerally conveys both exultant highs and gutting sorrows. His exacting accent work alone is a measure of his commitment to the audacious project.
The opening jolts us instantly into anxious involvement as László is jostled around in a packed train carriage, the shuddering sound design suggesting the nightmare of his ordeal. Over the turbulent strains of Daniel Blumberg’s mighty score, letters from the architect’s wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), from whom he was separated during internment, are heard in voiceover, detailing her situation in a displaced-persons camp in Hungary with László’s niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy). László is soon on board a ship bound for America, with plans for Erzsébet and Zsófia to follow.
Ellis Island arrival scenes are a staple of immigrant dramas, but the disconcerting angles from which DP Lol Crawley shoots the Statue of Liberty as it looms into view seem to presage both the elation of deliverance and the challenges to come. The blank stares of the assembled passengers barely able to follow instructions in English from port officials provide a haunting image of people for whom freedom comes with fear.
After a quick, and notably graphic, encounter with an immigrant sex worker, László travels to Pennsylvania, capital of industry. He’s warmly reunited with his cousin Attila, played by Alessandro Nivola with subtle indications of a fraternal generosity that has limits. Old-world erasure is evident in his tempered accent, his blonde shiksa wife Audrey (Emma Laird) and in the name of the childless couple’s furniture store, Miller & Sons: “Folks here like a family business.” He even converted to Catholicism before marrying.
Potentially important new client Harry (Joe Alwyn) hires Miller & Sons to redesign the gloomy library in his family’s gated mansion as a surprise for his father, Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce), away on business. Attila entrusts the project to László, and the architect takes on young Black single father Gordon (Isaach De Bankolé), whom he met on a mission breadline, as a construction hand. The architect’s perfectionism causes delays, but the resulting transformation creates a retreat of serenity and light, with the room’s valuable collection of first editions cleverly protected from damage.
Van Buren Sr.’s reaction is not the surprise his son intended. Unimpressed with the new library, he’s furious to find his house turned upside-down and “a Negro man” on his property, dismissing the contractors in a fit of bellowing rage.
When Harry refuses to pay due to roof damage, Attila blames his cousin. Audrey has already been nudging László to move out since a supposed transgression during a drunken evening at home. Attila uses that tension as further justification to kick him out. He lands in a shelter with Gordon, taking construction work to get by and using opium to numb the pain of his war injuries.
László is surprised when Harrison turns up at a building site, brandishing a copy of Look magazine with a photo spread calling the library a triumph of minimalist design. The industrialist has a folder of research on the architect, including photos of notable proto-brutalist buildings he designed before the war. Given that the Reich deemed the work of László and his colleagues “un-Germanic,” he’s moved almost to tears, having assumed all photographs were destroyed.
That scene is one of several in which László’s emotional response to architecture points to the director’s kindred passion for the art form in relation to its time. The fictional protagonist was partly inspired by the life of Marcel Breuer, with Louis Kahn and Mies van der Rohe also among Corbet and Fastvold’s references.
Harrison sends a car for László the following Sunday when he’s just staggering home from a night of excess; he finds himself at a formal luncheon, where a Jewish lawyer offers to help get Erzsébet and Zsófia to America. The guests are then instructed to follow Harrison as he marches them in blistering cold to a hilltop overlooking all of Doylestown. He shares his vision for a vast community center to be designed by László, who will be installed in a guesthouse on the property while construction is underway.
Financial compensation and artistic opportunity shape a turning point in the story, as does the arrival of Erzsébet and Zsófia, the former physically broken by war and famine and the latter initially rendered mute by the horrors she experienced. But almost from the start, László’s dream project is fraught with difficulties, each one chipping away at his sense of control and his ego.
Having the work overseen by Harry, who makes no effort to disguise his dislike for László, is merely an annoyance at first. But when a contractor and another architect are brought in to assess costs and city-planning representatives start making demands, László feels compelled to cover budget overages out of his own fee. The project is stalled by a rail accident involving a train delivering materials, eliciting a sharp reminder of the rage Harrison displayed at their first meeting.
Tension in the architect’s marriage is released but not resolved in a knockout scene in bed, during which Erzsébet, in perhaps Jones’ strongest moment, reduces László to tears by expressing how well she understands him. She’s supportive but not subjugated, chafing at the way he shuts her out of decisions affecting all three of them. As she puts it later, “László worships only at the altar of himself.”
While a degrading incident between Harry and Zsófia plays out offscreen, it doesn’t slip by László, and though the matter is never discussed, it foreshadows a shocking development years later, after work on the project has resumed. That climactic moment happens in Italy, where Harrison accompanies László to the marble quarries in the mountains of Carrera.
In an extraordinarily beautiful passage of writing, Orazio (Salvatore Sansone), a friend and associate from before the war, shares his deep feelings about marble and its significance to his time as a Resistance fighter, about the weight of the geological miracle both in European history and foundational America. That such a moving declaration precedes strung-out László’s brutal debasement only amplifies its shattering wallop.
The Van Burens are revealed to be the quintessence of moral corruption bred by wealth and power; only Harry’s twin sister Maggie (Stacy Martin) seems to value genuine kindness. The Brutalist becomes a scathing critique of the ways in which America’s moneyed and privileged class gains cachet through the labor and creativity of immigrants but will never consider them equals.
Despite Harrison’s big pronouncements on the responsibility of the rich to nurture the great artists of their time, he’s a cultural gatekeeper in an exclusionary club. Despising weakness, he ultimately cuts László down to size with a pitilessness that in hindsight seems preordained from that first encounter.
Brody has seldom been better, bringing tremendous gravitas but also a pain that gnaws at László’s prideful sense of self, one of purpose and destiny. It’s a towering performance; seeing the architect treated like garbage is crushing.
Jones’ role appears almost marginal at first, but the character grows in stature and forcefulness as the clear-sighted Erzsébet — lonely, unwelcomed and toiling away at a job that’s beneath her — makes a damning assessment of America and their place in it while her husband cracks under pressure. Alwyn does some of his best work, making Harry contemptible without veering into caricature. But the supporting cast’s real standout is Pearce in commandingly chilly form. Harrison is a visionary like László, but his practiced charm is undercut by an absence of humanity.
The movie is dedicated to the memory of composer Scott Walker, who died in 2019 and who scored Corbet’s previous films. Blumberg’s stirring work honors him with subtle echoes, also evoking comparison at times with the jagged edges of Mica Levi or the solemn grandeur of Terence Blanchard.
Editor David Jancso threads the sprawling story with a flow that pulls us along, incorporating archival material for historical context. And Crawley’s cinematography is magnificent, never more so than when prowling the mausoleum-like halls of the unfinished project or the tunnels of Carrera. Together with production designer Judy Becker and costumer Kate Forbes, the DP shows an attentive eye for detail, conjuring the look of midcentury America with a period verisimilitude that feels alive, never frozen in amber.
The Brutalist is a massive film in every sense, closing with a resonant epilogue that illustrates how art and beauty reach out from the past, transcending space and time to reveal a freedom of thought and identity often denied its makers.
RED ONE (2024) directed by Jake Kasdan, stars Dwayne Johnson and Chris Evans, is an urban fantasy Christmas action-thriller, fitting neatly into no known genre, which will perhaps be enjoyable to anyone willing to grant the somewhat silly premise, and perhaps not to anyone unwilling.
This film enjoys a remarkably high audience score but a remarkably low score from the establishment film critics. This is usually a sign that the film is normal and enjoyable, not perverse nor woke.
But the film did not seem normal to me, by which I mean, I can think of no other urban fantasy Christmas action-thriller. As such, this film runs the risk of falling between the stools. Action film fans might well pan it for its fantastical elements, whereas fans of Christmas family films might well pan it for its untraditional, even disrespectful, handling of common elements of the Santa Claus fairy tale.
As for Christians, we have long ago ceased to expect any mention of Christ or Christmas in a Christmas movie, aside from Linus quoting scripture in a Charlie Brown telly special from two generations ago.
Regardless, this filmgoer found the film perfectly enjoyable: nor were any elements visible which might provoke the establishment film critics. I cannot explain the high audience score nor the low critic score.
In the film, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson plays Callum Drift, a hardboiled six-foot-five elf serving a remarkably trim and athletic Santa as his chief of North Pole security.
Drift wishes to retire, as the Naughty List grows ever longer, and his faith in mankind fails. However, even as he is preparing his resignation letter, he sees Santa’s workshop assaulted by a black ops team of kidnappers. Draft gives chase, but the evildoers elude him.
Santa’s workshop is hidden beneath a holographic forcefield, but the secret international body charged with keeping the peace between the various mythical entities, the M.O.R.A (Mythological Oversight and Restoration Authority) soon discovers a hacker who broke into their security and betrayed them: gambling lowlife and deadbeat dad Jack O’Malley, played with evident zest by Chris Evans.
We are treated to a scene of O’Malley picking up his juvenile-delinquent son after school, where the boy got detention for monkeying with the school computer records: the father thereupon gives him a stern talking-to, that is, by cautioning him to cover his tracks better, and trust no confederates.
This is after we see O’Malley stealing candy from a baby, just so the audience harbors no doubt that this is not Captain America.
In short order O’Malley is mugged by MORA agents and brought in for questioning: not knowing who hired him, O’Malley nonetheless planted spyware on his paymaster, hence knows his location, but nothing else. The O’Malley and Drift are forced to team up against the better judgment of both: shenanigans ensue.
The pair must battle evil snowmen, sneak into a monster-infested castle, and confront an eerie player-piano playing the Nutcracker suite perched in the middle of an empty, fog-bound highway in Germany.
In one particularly well-done scene, O’Malley and his juvenile-delinquent son are miniaturized and trapped in snow-globes meant to imprison the unrepentant. When he sees his son terrified, O’Malley’s fatherly instincts come to the fore: he confesses his mistakes, he asks forgiveness, and he vows to amend his ways. Any mainstream critic not familiar with threefold steps of traditional Christian confession might not grasp the significance.
ikewise, anyone unfamiliar with the less well known nooks and crannies of Old World Christmas lore might not recognize the figures chosen to be the heavies here: Gryla is an Icelandic ogress who eats naughty children at Christmas time, while Krampus, from Romania, is goat-horned fork-tongued helper to Saint Nicholas, who punishes naughty children by birching them with a rod, or stuffing them in to a bag for abduction or drowning.
No version of these tales ever took root in America Christmas tradition — being rather alien to the American spirit — albeit within the last ten years, as our spirit is being lost, among the anti-Christmas crowd and low-grade horror directors Krampus has gained popularity. The version of Krampus is this film is rather charming in his own dark way, which may have the unfortunate side-effect the augmenting the popularity of the anti-Christmas or low-grade horror film versions.
All three characters, Drift, O’Malley, and even Krampus have uncomplex but satisfying character arcs: Drift regains his faith in humanity after O’Malley turns over a new leaf. This character growth, as stated, is uncomplex, as befits an action movie, but satisfying, as befits a Christmas movie.
And the rule of fairy-tale was strictly followed, which is, namely, that when you are told to touch nothing, and you touch something, disaster ensues.
The tale is set in our modern world, but with certain enclaves of the mythological world scattered here and there, hidden behind mist and illusion. This conceit of a hidden world within our own is familiar and beloved trope of the genre.
The special effects deceived my eye: to me they looks smooth and seamless. And the props and settings and art direction in general seemed a blend of gothic and cyberpunk Victoriana, as befits a high-tech version of Christmasland.
The fantastical elements of the movie are well handled, by which I mean the abilities, and also the limitations, of every magical power or magical tool is briefly but succinctly made clear: the audience should be no more bewildered than Jack O’Malley. Anything not explained in dialog was clear enough in how it was used. Of note was the “reality adjustment” wristband used by Drift, which allowed him to turn rock’em-sock’em robots or matchbox cars real.
There was also a clever bit of by-play which allowed the befuddled characters to recognize each other despite being bedeviled by shapechangers.
The theme of the piece is appropriately straightforward: no rogue is beyond redemption, nor any cynic either. This is as befits as thoroughly secular version of an urban fantasy Christmas action thriller comedy, I suppose.
As part of the conceit of the film, just as jolly fat Santa is here fit and hardboiled military type (the marine version of Saint Nick, as it were) so too is his miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer here replaced by a high-tech flying behemoth pulled by monstrous deer-titans.
I have no complaint about this film in part because I was expecting it to be terrible, when, in fact, it was enjoyable good clean fun. Nothing lewd, crude or shocking was involved.
Still, it was a good, clean, fun movie, starring charming actors and actresses, with thrilling action scenes, funny comedic bits, great deadpan acting from Dwayne Johnson — who, let it be known — just plays Dwayne Johnson being himself, and wry snark from Chris Evans.
Christmas Specials involve the birth of Christ, and Xmas Specials involve Santa Claus. Here, Santa is called “Saint Nicholas of Myra” once in one line — which is the closest this otherwise entirely secular-Xmas film comes to acknowledging the meaning of Christmas.
You can watch Red One now on Amazon Prime Video here.
Originally published here.
1 of 6 | Harris Dickinson and Nicole Kidman star in “Babygirl,” in theaters Dec. 25. Photo courtesy of A24
LOS ANGELES, Dec. 22 (UPI) — Babygirl, in theaters Wednesday, is the kind of erotic drama they used to make a lot in the ’80s and ’90s. As such, it is refreshing in 2024, though perhaps still derivative of its genre predecessors.
Romy Mathis (Nicole Kidman) is the founder and CEO of Tensile, a robotics company developing automated drones for warehouses. She is married to a theater director, Jacob (Antonio Banderas), and they have two daughters.
When Tensile begins a mentorship program for interns, Samuel (Harris Dickinson) pushes Romy’s buttons to get one-on-one time with her. His power plays unlock Romy’s repressed sexual desires and they begin an affair.
Playing power games may be inherent to many sexual relationships, so it’s not like one movie invented them, but it’s hard not to think about 9½ Weeks. In that notorious 1986 film, Mickey Rourke played a man who seduces a woman (Kim Basinger) with sex games involving food, spanking and blindfolds.
Still, Babygirl doesn’t play Romy as a cliche of a powerful businesswoman who really likes to be submissive in bed and experience the adrenaline of risking exposure.
Not that the affair compromises Romy’s success, either, although it could if Samuel reports her. She also starts to blur the lines of being submissive in private and at the office, but she doesn’t let it interfere with business decisions.
The love scenes between Kidman and Dickinson are revealing, but not gratuitous. They are vulnerable and uncomfortable rather than titillating.
The way writer-director Halina Reijn approaches consent is interesting and seems realistic. Samuel does insist on consent before continuing, which is a fantastic portrayal of obtaining verbal consent, though the conditions of Romy’s consent remain nebulous.
Romy makes it clear that Samuel’s power games make her uncomfortable. Agreeing to continue while feeling uncomfortable seems like it adds a level of duress.
It’s 80 minutes into the movie before Samuel and Romy even discuss using a safe word, which would give either party, but especially Romy, a way to end a session at her discretion. Yet, this is believable because Romy and Samuel are amateurs at this, so they’re figuring it out.
Samuel may play the dominant role, but he is in many respects just a poser. He is a young intern and very emotional when things don’t go his way.
It seems like Samuel is imitating what he thinks a Casanova would act like, but whenever Romy goes off script, Samuel seems to be at a loss for words. It’s not natural to him, either, though he thinks of some clever workplace games that make Romy play along.
He’s probably watched 9½ Weeks, too, or more likely just read the Wikipedia summary.
The Jacob character is the film’s most stereotypical.
Jacob is a loving husband who just can’t excite Romy. Romy tries to teach him to play games in bed, but Jacob doesn’t enjoy experimenting. It’s odd that a person whose job is in the arts would lack any creativity with his partner, but he’s entitled to have traditional desires, too.
The lack of monogamy is an unmitigated betrayal, as even submissive relationships should respect loyalty unless they’ve discussed and agreed to having an open relationship. The film eventually explores how a couple navigates compatibility, but Romy has to own hers first.
Individual choices the characters make in Babygirl will provoke discussions, and won’t be spoiled in this review. The positive is that the film does show Romy’s growth through the experience.
So, even if a viewer disagrees with part of the journey, the film makes its case for the value of those experiences. That makes it an engaging, provocative film.
Fred Topel, who attended film school at Ithaca College, is a UPI entertainment writer based in Los Angeles. He has been a professional film critic since 1999, a Rotten Tomatoes critic since 2001, and a member of the Television Critics Association since 2012 and the Critics Choice Association since 2023. Read more of his work in Entertainment.
Pottel, directed by Sahith Mothkuri and starring Ajay, Yuvachandra, and Ananya Nagalla in pivotal roles, is a rural drama that delves into the socio-cultural issues of the 1970s. The movie, which captivated audiences with its intriguing title, was released in theaters in October and recently debuted on OTT platforms Amazon Prima and Aha. With music by Sekhar Chandra, the film aims to strike an emotional chord with its thought-provoking narrative.
Plot Summary:
The story is set in a remote village during the 1970s, where the powerful Patel family dominates the region. Believing that education empowers people to question authority, the Patels discourage the villagers from pursuing it. Mallanna (Chatrapathi Sekhar), who recognizes the importance of education, dreams of educating his son Gangadharam (Yuvachandra). However, his efforts are thwarted when Patel (Ajay) kills him to maintain control over the village.
The villagers revere a local deity, Balamma, and Patel manipulates their beliefs to suppress dissent. Gangadharam grows up in this oppressive environment, determined to bring change. He marries Bujjamma (Ananya Nagalla), defying her brother and societal norms.
Meanwhile, the village observes a ritual every 12 years, offering a Pottel as a sacrifice to their deity. This time, Gangadharam is tasked with overseeing the ritual. The stakes are high, as failure to perform the ritual properly could have dire consequences for him. Caught between his goal of educating his daughter and empowering the villagers, and the ritualistic traditions, Gangadharam faces immense challenges from Patel. How he overcomes these obstacles forms the crux of the story.
Analysis:
The film effectively portrays the socio-political dynamics and superstitions prevalent in rural India during the 1970s. The director highlights the dominance of landlords like the Patels and their efforts to maintain control by keeping the marginalized sections uneducated. The screenplay weaves these themes with clarity, emphasizing the need for education as a tool for empowerment.
The movie also sheds light on superstitions and rituals like animal sacrifices, which were exploited by the powerful to manipulate the weak. The village itself feels like a character in the story, with its landscapes and traditions adding depth to the narrative. The realistic portrayal of the struggles and resilience of rural communities enhances the film’s authenticity.
Performances:
Yuvachandra delivers a compelling performance as Gangadharam, capturing the character’s struggle and determination effectively.
Ajay excels as the antagonist Patel, portraying the role with authority and menace.
Ananya Nagalla impresses with her portrayal of Bujjamma, adding emotional depth to the story.
The supporting cast, including Chatrapathi Sekhar, performs within the scope of their roles, contributing to the narrative’s strength.
Technical Aspects:
Cinematography by Monish Bhupathiraju stands out, beautifully capturing the rural and forest backdrops, adding an immersive visual quality.
Music by Sekhar Chandra complements the narrative well, with both songs and background score enhancing the emotional impact.
Editing by Karthik Srinivas ensures a cohesive flow, although some scenes feel slightly stretched.
The authentic depiction of rural settings and customs adds to the film’s credibility.
Final Verdict:
Pottel is a sincere attempt to address important social issues like education, empowerment, and superstition through a rural narrative. While the film’s pacing and predictability in certain areas might deter some viewers, its emotional core and relevant themes make it a worthwhile watch for those interested in rural dramas.
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25784221/247333_EOY_Package_Check_In_CVirginia_PRIME.jpg "10 great shows to stream on Amazon Prime Video from 2024")
Canadian premier threatens to cut off energy imports to US if Trump imposes tariff on country
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25789444/1258459915.jpg "OpenAI cofounder Ilya Sutskever says the way AI is built is about to change")
OpenAI cofounder Ilya Sutskever says the way AI is built is about to change
U.S. Supreme Court will decide if oil industry may sue to block California's zero-emissions goal
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25546252/STK169_Mark_Zuckerburg_CVIRGINIA_D.jpg "Meta asks the US government to block OpenAI’s switch to a for-profit")
Meta asks the US government to block OpenAI’s switch to a for-profit
Freddie Freeman's World Series walk-off grand slam baseball sells at auction for $1.56 million
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23951353/STK043_VRG_Illo_N_Barclay_3_Meta.jpg "Meta’s Instagram boss: who posted something matters more in the AI age")
Meta’s Instagram boss: who posted something matters more in the AI age
East’s wintry mix could make travel dicey. And yes, that was a tornado in Calif.
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/24924653/236780_Google_AntiTrust_Trial_Custom_Art_CVirginia__0003_1.png "Google’s counteroffer to the government trying to break it up is unbundling Android apps")
Google’s counteroffer to the government trying to break it up is unbundling Android apps
