Split Decision: "The Brutalist"
Sunday, February 16, 2025 at 10:00AM In the Split Decision series, two of our writers face off on an Oscar-nominated movie one loves and the other doesn't. Today, Nick Taylor and Abe Friedtanzer discuss The Brutalist...
NICK TAYLOR: Hi Abe! I hope the cinematic year of 2024 and the numerical year of 2025 have been treating you well! Today we’re here to talk about The Brutalist, which is one of my favorite films from 2024 and one of the most nominated films at this year’s Oscars. Because this is the Split Decision series, I’m gonna guess you are not a fan of this film, or you’re at least more ambivalent about it than I am. But an object this self-consciously huge deserves to be argued about, and I would love for you to start us off by sharing what you think of The Brutalist.
ABE FRIEDTANZER: Hey Nick! I will say that I didn’t hate this film, and even found much to admire about it. I saw it at a morning press screening at the Toronto International Film Festival back in September, so early enough to not have heard much about it and to be able to fully appreciate it. I knew very little of the story, and so naturally my interest was piqued. As soon as the film ended, I wanted to research the true story, only to find out that its events were invented. I had seen Brady Corbet’s previous film Vox Lux (which I hated with a passion) as well as The Sleepwalker (directed by Mona Fastvold with a screenplay by her and Corbet, a role reversal of their duties on this film), which I liked much more. From what I could find, and have been able to since, it doesn’t seem like either of them are Jewish or have any Jewish heritage. Those two factors have irreversibly impacted my perception of the film and made it hard to truly process it in a positive way...
That said, I do think there are certain things that Corbet and Fastvold get very right in their depiction of a subject that isn’t necessarily personal to them. Alessandro Nivola’s casually Catholic cousin, for instance, does feel extremely authentic, hiding his identity to better assimilate, something that for Laszlo is not nearly as possible. I also found the incorporation of the Israeli Declaration of Independence as Laszlo toiled away to be very effective, as well as his conflicted rejection of his niece’s desire to emigrate to Israel later in the film.
I’ve read takes arguing this is somehow “anti-Zionist” but I think it goes much deeper to the core of who Laszlo is and so many real Holocaust survivors were in that era, having put so much time into establishing themselves in America and perhaps equally fearful and resentful of the promise offered to them by a country that could have saved them from what they endured had it only been officially formed and open to receiving refugees a decade earlier. I do think this film focuses much more of Laszlo as a person than on his circumstances, though the epilogue throws that for a bit of a loop. I’m interested in your thoughts on the two acts and how those compare to each other?
NICK: I’ve seen Fastvold’s The World to Come, which didn’t particularly grab me outside of its great score. I only just saw Vox Lux, which I was pretty impressed by, and I expect this earlier, equally rigorous portrait of an artist trying to make their path in a world that has worked very hard to kill and define them might enrich my eventual second trip through The Brutalist. I am not Jewish, and cannot pretend to have the same perspective on how The Brutalist portrays Judaism as you do, but I’m not sure Corbet and Fastvold’s religious and political backgrounds would make the film’s complexities any easier to untangle. I saw the coda as Israel having laid claim on Laszlo’s art and identity after America has had its fill of him, though the information presented by his niece recontextualizes the proceeding three hours so completely I might feel differently on rewatch.
But you asked me about the two acts, not the epilogue. I’m more dazzled by the first act, which leans harder on mood to convey character, period, and incident. It’s amazing how fleeting this film is on its feet, and how it can establish a dynamic or scenario as quickly as it destabilizes it. Nivola’s character is a great example of this, where we keep learning more about this guy without him ever feeling predictable. When he finally casts out Laszlo, it’s not clear of it’s due to professional or personal shame - and if it’s the latter, is he more ashamed about his cousin’s irrefutable Jewishness? The supposed pass made at his wife? Is he punishing his own lust?
So many questions wrapped into a man who’s worked so hard to not be mysterious to his community.
I’m less entranced by the second half, which is either heavier on plot or starts moving just fast enough through incidents to make them feel more abrupt. Felicity Jones also never quite settles as an asset for the film, though maybe I just couldn’t get over how perfect Marion Cotillard would’ve been for the role if she hadn’t dropped out. Even so, the show-offy virtuosity of the camera, editing, design, sound, and music are more than enough of a thru-line to make the movie sing. Frankly, an art film asking us to get high on its own artistry is the kind of ask I’d be more dubious about if The Brutalist didn’t have the formal chops to back it up. Maybe the conflicts around class, art, ownership, and immigration aren’t subtle, but I think Corbet’s grandiosity make its the whole thing feel genuinely heady and contemplative. Do you have a favorite between the two halves? And what do you think of the performances? I’m pretty awestruck by what Brody’s doing, but I’m not uniformly sold on the supporting players.
ABE: Interesting thoughts here. I do prefer the first half to the second, though I'll admit that even the idea of an intermission - aside from being a welcome bathroom break opportunity - is still strange to me since it takes you out of the experience of being in the theater, inviting you to check your phone or converse with a colleague, something I would never do during an uninterrupted screening of anything else. I think the first half sets an incredible stage for this man's life and the journey that he's been on, whereas the second act provides some answers, and leaves plenty unresolved, that perhaps I would have preferred to remain a mystery.
The trip to Italy, for instance, felt a bit surreal and then gave way to some of the film's more unexpected and uncomfortable confrontations that, jarring as they were, also just didn't feel quite as natural. There's a sense of intrigue that permeates the first half and I wish had remained there for the second. That said, there's also so much unresolved which makes me wonder how this film went so long without answering some important questions, namely Harrison's fate. The epilogue felt worthwhile but also like it came out of nowhere, which made me think that some of those themes should have been explored earlier on in one of the two parts.
NICK: The trip to Italy, specifically the image of the three men wandering through the marble blocks and heavy fog, is one of my favorite portions of the film. The confrontation with Brody and Pearce registered as a literalization of the exploitative dynamics already hanging over the men, and though I see the arguments for why it's necessary, it reads too much like already-reductive art house tropes of sexual assault. Maybe the more interesting choice is how it doesn't have an immediate ramification on the larger narrative. It festers in Brody, locked inside whatever other horrors and shame he's already working so hard to keep in check, while production marches on. Laszlo retreats further into himself, until that miraculous scene of getting high with his wife and having some incredible heroin sex. For a film that hasn't had much non-transactional sexuality until this point, it's a pretty gorgeous scene.
Brody and Domingo are the cream of the crop in Best Actor, and maybe of the acting categories in general. I'd vote Domingo purely to see this talented actor get an Oscar when Brody already has one, but I have a hard time picking between the two as my personal favorite. Our own discussion about what information The Brutalist shares about Laszlo, when they should have or if we should even know these things about him, how other people read his art and his intentions, all of these questions would not resonate so potently if not for Brody's performance. He's such an evocative crypt of historical traumas and human foibles, never falling into the traps of obnoxious genius or making Laszlo a self-conscious stand-in for the many themes The Brutalist is pinning to this character.
I also love his petty dislike of the middle man who keeps trying to rewrite his plans for budget-cutting reasons. Laszlo is never more than a man, never less than a man. I'm less high on Pearce and Jones overall, but they hold their corners of the film together quite evocatively. They also play magnificently off each other. Jones's willingness to enjoy the Van Buren's estate and wealth, and how this never once translates to comfort or trust in the man himself, is one of the best notes undergirding her performance. I do also like the somewhat silly spookiness of how Pearce just vanishes from the film.
I'm sure The Brutalist will go home with a healthy number of awards on Oscar night. It's my easy pick in several crafts - production design, cinematography, score, editing - and though I'm still not sure whether I'd pick between it or The Substance in the few categories where they're competing against each other, those are two fantastic options to pick between. Mostly I'm really pulling for Corbet to walk away with something. This is exactly the kind of obnoxiously scaled epic I can understand grasping onto parts of without connecting to it as a whole. I'd be more surprised if it inspired apathy. We've talked a lot about the elements of The Brutalist that provoked admiration and ambivalence even amidst some murkiness in other places, but I'm curious if there's anything we haven't mentioned that you felt strongly about. Strong love, strong hate, strong "I don't even know what they thought they were doing here". Or, in a slightly different tack, how do you think this might change for you as you digest it? How has the Israel stuff sat with you?
ABE: I think you captured everything and I appreciate your thorough analysis of those questionable second-act moments that do grasp the depth they tackle.
I remember finding the incorporation of Israel elements very powerful while watching the film and then seeing many people add their own takes when they finally saw the film and wanted to add something “controversial” to it that just isn’t there. Whatever prevailing current opinions there may be on what’s happening in Israel and Gaza at the moment, the country’s formation was hugely impactful on this generation of Holocaust survivors. As I mentioned before, I think the film gets that very right and so I wonder why some people are adding notions that it’s “anti-Zionist” or anything like that when I believe that Laszlo has grown to resent so much of his identity because of how it’s shaped his path in the world beyond his control.
I will say that, while your prediction that the film will go home with a bunch of awards is probably true, I’m actually seeing a scenario when it wins just one or none. Cinematography could be Nosferatu, Production Design could be Wicked, Score could be Conclave, Actor could be Chalamet. I do think Corbet can still win Director, which would put us in a Power of the Dog parallel, where the early, Globe-winning frontrunner ended up with exactly one prize. I’m not ready to confidently predict that outcome just yet - especially since I don’t think even Corbet is a lock - but there would be something distinctly strange about this epic winning nothing. It’s also not like Gangs of New York or Killers of the Flower Moon, where Scorsese had already proven himself (even if he hadn’t yet won Best Director the first time around). Corbet will surely do impressive things again, but this feels like the crowning achievement of his career even at this early junction.
NICK: Corbet isn’t a lock, and you’re right that the film could be in a volatile position going into the Oscars. The Brutalist underperforming with the guilds relative to its showing with other major organizations makes me think it’s in a weird narrative position, where almost any outcome is somewhere between pleasantly surprising and strangle inevitable. Maybe that’s a good reflection of how these characters view their fates in the film? Either way, I’d be much more shocked if it won nothing. I’d also be disappointed, because I love it so much, and because I think Oscar hasn't given me a lot of other options to be excited about in several of these categories. The Scorsese comparison is interesting, since he's been a regular Academy nominee but never a magnet for actually winning prizes. I hope Corbet keeps making risky, adventurous art about America, and though winning an Oscar isn't a be-all, end-all signifier for whether he's "succeeded" or not (as Scorsese proved for most of his career), I think it'd be really nice if he had one!
Do you have any last thoughts on The Brutalist before we wrap, or any questions you'd like to throw my way?
ABE: I think I’ve said what I need to say - a pleasure speaking with you and thanks for inputting!
NICK: Thank you so much for talking with me about this film, Abe. It's been really nice chatting with you!
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Reader Comments (4)
What's weirdest to me is how this 3.5 hour "epic" has no real set pieces, or narrative crescendos. We're mostly with a few people at a time in rooms talking to each other - the lack of budget shows in these places, and the film can often feel quite small. The VistaVision is gorgeous on its own, but like Christopher Nolan movies, it frequently seems like unique technology wasted on boring shot compositions. The film also falls apart at the end, like it has no idea how to wrap things up.
Brody is impeccable, though. He's the only element that works consistently and fully.
l haven't seen it and may not before the 3rd March
Bafta just gave it Actor and Director then went and fouled things up in Best Actress.
I belong to the minority that prefers the second half.
Great exchange, thank you both, about a film that I loved.
I know what you mean, @WaeMest , about the film feeling small at times but partly what I found intriguing about it was that it managed to feel small and epic at the same time. And partly the absence of redundant grandiosity is what made it work as it kept the film and the narrative anchored in the people. Had it 'gone big' with set pieces framed primarily for their epic quality it would have lost something.
I was mesmerised by the scenes leading up to and at the quarries in Italy. We see - for the first time - van Buren out of his domain and the crippling insecurity which lies beneath the tenuous facade of his wealth and status comes forward strongly. And when he comes face to face with that exquisite slab of marble (which is given an astonishingly ritualistic form of libationary offering) he reacts genuinely and non-performatively for the only time in the film. When we see him place his cheek on the marble completely unselfconsciously, we get a glimpse of what he might be if he knew how.
Definitely a film I'll revisit.