The Brutalist

Movie Review: A Disappointing Experience

I had high expectations for this movie, but unfortunately, it turned out to be a disappointing experience. The pacing was painfully slow, making it difficult to stay engaged. Many scenes felt completely unnecessary, dragging the runtime without adding any real value to the story.

From an artistic perspective, the film seemed to rely heavily on overacting, which made the characters feel exaggerated and unrealistic. Instead of enhancing the emotional depth, the performances often came across as forced and distracting.

While the movie seemed to aim for a deeper, artistic message, it failed to deliver it in a coherent way. The narrative lacked clarity, and by the end, I was left wondering what the point of it all was. Overall, it felt like a missed opportunity that could have been so much more with tighter editing and more thoughtful storytelling.

This has a very nice cast and a great underdog premise, but feels a bit over the top with cheap emotional manipulation that detracts from what could have been an epic cinematic achievement.

It really started feeling forced after the halfway point with more and more implausibilities that just shook me out of the story.

The mark of a weak writer is melodrama and excessive salacious story elements, but then it could just be the producers that dictated the addition of the nonsensical scenarios that just had no basis in the reality they established.

The production value is there, the cast is there, the soundtrack is there, but then they had to trot out as many tropes as possible, and by then, the weak resolution is just background noise.

The first half of "The Brutalist" slowly and beautifully unfolds in a way that feels like it's going to be the next "Godfather."

As the second half of the film came after intermission, I was hoping it would continue down that same trajectory, but instead the second half goes down a strange, confusing and puzzling path, which some viewers might find brilliant. When the end did come, I found myself laughing as I shook my head walking the razors edge in my mind, saying to myself, "Why did Corbet go down this path?" and at the same time saying, "that was actually kind of brilliant."

Art is subjective and some people might really like this strange and bizarre second half of the film. Perhaps it was even Corbet's middle finger to the audience saying, "You didn't see that coming, did you?" Whatever the case may be, I give the second half a 4 because the first half was so brilliant, and I really wanted the film to continue going down that same trajectory the entire way through.

In the end, the acting is terrific, the cinematography is absolutely beautiful, and the film is strange. But I give it to Corbet for the effort, making films are hard, and he went for something different with his artistic vision.

This ambitious post-war American epic begins with a mesmerising long-take sequence which will surely stick longer than the 3:35 hours of running time. The 70mm format fits the setting while making the movie visually stunning alongside with audacious camera works and stunning photography. Blumberg's music adds on that so the theatre would definitely be its perfect habitat. The script delivers interesting characters - albeit the secondary ones are purely cosmetic - valorised by great performances from Brody and Pearce. The issue here is in the last hour, as the writers decided to insert unexplored subplots which will prevent the movie from having a proper conclusion thus leaving a bitter feeling of incompleteness and preventing this monumental project to achieve what was intended for.

'The Brutalist' never lets you breathe. The director builds it with such purpose that you see the care in every frame. He's a talented craftsman, no question, but also so crushingly serious. And that chokes out any real feeling. You watch the artistry turn into artifice. And, after a while, all that weight just presses down.

The film is so obsessed with being Art that it forgets to let you in. It's so heavy with its own importance that it starts to close in on itself so much so that eventually all you see is this polished facade, reflecting its own seriousness back at you.

It doesn't stay with you. It stands there, sealed off by its own sense of importance, and you're left outside.