Category: Alessandro Nivola

THE BRUTALIST (2024)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Brady Corbet
CAST: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy
MY RATING: 7/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 93% Certified Fresh

PLOT: When a visionary architect and his wife flee post-war Europe, their lives are changed forever by a wealthy client.


Maybe I’m a victim of too much hype.  Maybe that’s partly my fault, too, as I waited to see Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist until after it had been nominated for a whopping ten Oscars, including the so-called “Big Five:” Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay.  As a result, my expectations were possibly a little too high.  I admit it.  However, even if my expectations hadn’t been inflated, I don’t believe The Brutalist would have affected me any differently.  It never lost my interest during its 3.5-hour running time, but it never achieved the kind of liftoff I felt I was being prepped for.  At the end, I was left with more questions than answers, which can be acceptable for some films, but for this one, I felt like I was left out of the loop.

In 1947, László Tóth (Adrien Brody), an Austro-Hungarian Jew, successfully emigrates to America, fleeing intolerable conditions at home, but is forced to leave behind his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), and his mute niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy).  He was a respected architect in his home country, but now he is part of the huddled masses, represented in a sensational shot as his ship sails past Lady Liberty, the camera tilting so she is upside-down and cattywampus in the frame.  That really got my attention, for some reason.  If you want to really drill down, it could be visual foreshadowing for how László’s American experience will not be quite as stable as he had hoped.  Or maybe director Corbet just liked how it looked.  Either way.

Although László’s overriding priority is to somehow get his wife and niece to America, he must first get a job (after first engaging in a surprisingly frank and raunchy sex scene with a prostitute).  His first safe harbor is with his Americanized cousin, Attila (Alessandro Nivola), who runs a custom furniture company with his shiksa wife, Audrey.  It’s through this job that László meets American millionaire Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce), a man who will unwittingly shape László’s life for the next several years.  Harrison has a son, Harry (Joe Alwyn), who looks like a distant relative of the Hemsworth clan and is a condescending racist, let us not mince words, but who, in his own words, tolerates László’s presence because of his architectural skills.  (Harrison wants László to design a community center in honor of his late mother.)

This is all just in the first act of the movie, before the intermission.  The Brutalist moves with a deliberate calmness, in spite of its thriller-esque title.  I was reminded of Doctor Zhivago [1965], as it covers large swatches of László’s life with nice attention to detail, never hurrying, but never losing my interest.  The second act finally introduces Erzsébet, László’s wife, for the first time in two hours (hope that’s not too much of a spoiler).  The plot spins out for the rest of the film as a series of conflicts between László, his wife, Harrison and his son, and the crew building the community center that László has designed.  László becomes more irascible as changes are proposed and approved without his knowledge, plus he must deal with a change in his wife’s condition.  There is a detour to Italy where László and Harrison must decide on which marble to use for the center’s, er, centerpiece, and it’s here where an act is committed that, although it feels like it came out of left field, does not seem too surprising considering the behavior of the perpetrator during the first couple of hours.

As I was watching The Brutalist play out, I was repeatedly reminded of another film, featuring another madman with a single-minded focus, also played out in an earlier era of American history, though it takes place decades earlier than The Brutalist: Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood [2007].  Both films have the same deliberate pacing, the same focus on men of industry, their familial and professional challenges, even the same kind of jarring, atonal score playing in the background during key scenes.  But while The Brutalist is at least equally as well made as There Will Be Blood, the latter movie reached out and grabbed me by the lapels and didn’t let go until the final scene, ending with a bang and not a whimper.  I cannot say the same about The Brutalist.  I give props to the craft of the film, to the filmmakers who clearly had a lot to say and needed the time to say it.  The editors knitted everything together and gave the film a very specific voice.  But as the film’s epilogue played out, and I realized how it was about to end, I sank a little lower in my seat and thought to myself, “Well, this is mildly disappointing.”

Sidney Lumet once wrote words to the effect of, “If your movie is over two hours long, you’d better have a lot to say.”  The Brutalist does have a lot to say about the Jewish experience in post-war America, about the single mindedness of gifted artists, about the casual racism embedded in white America that persists even today.  But I couldn’t get away from the feeling that it could have said it in a movie that wasn’t long enough to require an intermission, that didn’t answer questions that were left unanswered (how and when did Zsófia suddenly start speaking?  where did Harrison go??  what exactly happened on that stream bank between Harry and Zsófia???), and that didn’t leave me feeling as if I’d watched a correspondence course video on American architecture instead of a movie.  Again, it’s well-made and occasionally beautiful to look at.  It’s not a BAD movie.  It’s just not a GREAT one.

THE BRUTALIST

By Marc S. Sanders

Before I started writing this article, I had to marinate on my impression of Brady Corbet’s magnum opus film, The Brutalist.  It has the makings of a biography but it’s fiction.  It indulges practically every inch of a Holocaust survivor’s life after immigrating to America.  It takes daring approaches in its photography particularly since it was filmed using an antiquated 35 mm print in Vista Vision. (The director found it appropriate to use the filming methods that were available during the mid-century decades when most of the film takes place. Wise and insightful choice.) Despite using questionable AI techniques, two of the leads use impressive dialects and fluently speak in Hungarian and Hebrew as well.  Set designs, score, sound, visuals.  It’s all here.  Yet, I don’t feel I wholeheartedly enjoyed the experience of watching the picture, and this is coming from a guy who had the entire AMC auditorium #16 to himself on a chilly Thursday afternoon at 4:45pm.  Not a cell phone lit in my line of sight or a crying baby within earshot.  The theater was my oyster.  The Brutalist was not.

Adrien Brody won his first Oscar at age 29 for Roman Polanski’s The Pianist.  He earned his accolades for a heartbreaking performance.  He arguably works even harder as a visionary architect named László Tóth.  This nuanced creation from Brady Corbet is a most convincing historical character…of fiction, that is.  

László arrives on Ellis Island, separated from his wife and niece by concentration camp assignments during the war.  The ladies remain in captivity while he reunites with his brother, Atilla (Alessandro Nicola) and Christian sister-in-law who reside in Philadelphia, operating a custom furniture and carpentry shop.

Enter a raving mad and wealthy industrialist named Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce) who arrives home to find out his son Harry Lee (Joe Alwyn) has hired the carpenters to redo a library as a big surprise.  Harrison is outraged at the finished product and denies payment for the job, thus causing a permanent rift between László and Atilla.  László is kicked out of his brother’s home following an accusation of making a pass at the wife, and he can only find refuge within a church shelter.  

Harrison has a change of heart however when his socialite friends take a special liking to the new room.  He tracks László down, pays him for the work, invites him to a Christmas party and subsequently insists he stay on the property while also connecting the Hungarian with an attorney who will make efforts to reunite him with his wife and niece who remain overseas.  

Meanwhile, an ambitious Harrison conjures up big plans right off the top of his head.  He wants to commission László to design an enormous building consisting of a library, a gymnasium, theatre and a chapel on a wide expanse of Pennsylvania land nearby his grand estate.  The building will be erected in honor of his loving mother’s memory.  A humble László accepts the assignment though he’s funding a heroin addiction with the monies given to him by Harrison.  

Though The Brutalist is fiction, I believe it should still be considered a lesson in north eastern American history.  As building gets underway, a perfectly timed intermission in the middle of the film arrives when we learn of Pennsylvania state’s aggressive campaign to manufacture and build with the precious commodity of US steel.  Fictionally speaking, we have Harrison Lee Van Buren and László Tóth to thank for these newly created jobs of construction and commodity developments.

There is a whole lot of story to tell in this three-and-a-half-hour picture that traverses through decades.  Brady Corbet’s depiction of his main character, László, runs the gamut of so many circumstances.  He’s a stranger in a strange land, even towards his newly Americanized brother who has shed his Jewish identity for prosperity.  The Anglo Christian mentality of Harrison Lee Van Buren, along with his family and fellow socialites, curiously study László as the alienated man he appears to be.  Loneliness is not a direct message that Corbet offers in the film, but how can László not feel lonely in this new land without the sensibilities of a wife to help him mind his boundaries and stay away from the poisons of heroin or personal betrayals that will challenge him?

The second half of The Brutalist oversees László growing accustomed to reuniting with his wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), who has drastically changed in her physicality since they were last together.  Their primarily mute niece, Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy), has arrived as well.  The problem is that László has had opportunity to shed his weakness of being a Holocaust prisoner while taking charge of his most mesmerizing architectural design yet. His family’s arrival does not feel conducive with his new way of life, both intimately and religiously. The Brutalist covers a lot of conflicts while also showing massive progress for Harrison’s grand investment and László’s treasured work.  

After providing all of this exposition for the film, I think I’m ready to deliver my point.  It’s too much.  There’s so much story here that some of it feels unwelcome.  László’s heroin addiction never seems to add up or intrude effectively enough.  Because of the long running time of the movie, there are long sections where any reference to his yearning for heroin feels neglected.  This man of energetic and artistic passion is hardly ever weighed down by his vice and I questioned just how important it was for the drug addiction to be included in the film.  The script goes in so many different directions at times, it feels like it forgot about this important monkey that should be on László’s back.

László also gets challenged by Harrison’s American business and architectural partners which is one more conflict.  Unexpected fallbacks also occur that affect both László and Harrison’s years-in-the-making plans.  Then there is László’s friendship with an assistant who started as a fellow drug addict.  Finally, there is László and Erzsébet and the problems they face intimately and as common partners. The reunification of the married couple has new, unexpected dynamics to face.

It’s a lot.  While I never minded the running time of The Brutalist, all of these layers of storytelling become exhausting.  

Guy Pearce actually impressed me the most.  I loved his character and the shrewdness he exhibits to everyone he shares a scene with.  His gruff dialect with a pencil thin mustache, slicked back hair and perfectly tailored suits are distinct, but his presence in a room is always felt even when the camera is not on him or if he has nothing to say.  His stature gave me an impression of Rockefeller, a man with the appropriate and seemingly out of reach dreams that will deliver a future of advanced American building and development.  I may have loved Harrison Lee Van Buren’s story more than László Tóth’s.

However, I got angry with the film as the story was beginning its descent towards the end. Harrison commits a truly unexpected and heinous act that arrives out of nowhere.  This is a fictional story. So, I feel comfortable with my stance that what Brady Corbet opts for Pearce’s character seems wrong and unjust; a downright inappropriate take that did not add up for me.  Guy Pearce is giving a career high performance, but I did not care for how his character’s trajectory concluded.

Felicity Jones is a powerhouse actress as Erzsébet.  She appears so confident within the skin of her character as a defiant woman, unhinged by any sort of attempted intimidation from her husband or the Van Burens.  

Adrien Brody is the sure front runner to win a Best Actor Oscar, though I wish Ralph Fiennes would finally get his due recognition for Conclave.  There are so many directions that László Tóth is pulled in.  This is a very challenging personification for an actor to belabor.  For this one character alone, The Brutalist feels like five different movies are being played at once.  If you have read my reviews before then you may know that I’m a big admirer of multi-dimensional characters.  It’s hard to find a character this nuanced.  Michael Corleone is a comparison that comes to mind.  As I write this review, it astounds me how much depth I’m reflecting on within Corbet’s script and Brody’s performance.

I told a friend who has also seen the film that The Brutalist feels like a marriage between Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood and Milos Foreman’s Amadeus.  While these characters are considered audacious, great artists beyond comparable realms, they are never the most powerful people in the room.  The power belongs to those with the resources of wealth and those who proudly carry the rank and titles bestowed upon them.  For the artists, men of power stand in the way of the achievements they strive for, forcing them to vent their frustrations with self-harm and abuse towards the ones closest to them.

Everything I saw in Brady Corbet’s film is interesting.  Beginning with the arrival on Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty towering over a lost László, all the way to a visit at the seemingly unreachable mountains of Italy where beautiful, white porcelain exists in the highest reaches of nature.  You feel like you have traveled to places uncharted by most people of this Earth.  It’s breathtaking.  

The Brutalist follows the trajectory of a man arriving in America to accomplish his dreams and obtain a destiny he feels worthy of.  Only there are obstacles that will divert his path and thus a different outcome may arrive. 

Visually and with Brady Corbet’s ambition for this picture, The Brutalist is often astonishing to absorb.  Still, at least on my one and only viewing thus far, the film was overwhelmingly abundant, and I could not feel comfortable with all of it coming at me once.  Then again, that is likely how László and Erzsébet Tóth felt upon their arrival in the land of the free.

A MOST VIOLENT YEAR

By Marc S. Sanders

If Michael Corleone had kept his promise to Kay to go strictly legitimate, he’d probably have become Abel Morales, the protagonist of A Most Violent Year, played exceedingly well by underrated Oscar Isaac.

Writer/Director J.C. Chandor sets his story in winter 1981, on record statistically recognized as what the film’s title literary suggests.  Therefore, it is a challenge for Morales to successfully bring his heating oil enterprise to a capital success when his competitors don’t play by the rules and hijack his product while threatening his able staff of truckers and salespeople. Then there is the stigma Morales must endure by being married to a reputed mob boss’ daughter, searingly played by Jessica Chastain, ready at a moment’s notice to call on her own family for help or to just pull a trigger herself.  Morales tried his hardest to keep her in check.  Furthermore, the industry he’s chosen is riddled with suspicion of fraud, embezzlement, racketeering, and underhanded tricks. All this warrants the DA to bring an endless array of indictments against Morales and his business, despite all the cooperation and legal activities that have been accomplished so far.

So why go through with this at all?  A lifetime has been invested.  Time of money and work to fight for an opportunity.  Abel knows this more than anything, and he will not surrender to deals from the DA or the mob.  He will not compromise despite the challenges.

Chandor’s film is well done.  It had been on my radar to watch since its release and yet it was not what I expected.  I was waiting for Abel’s widely seen beautiful camel overcoat to end up soaked in blood.  It never came to be.  That observation only suggests that A Most Violent Year does not promise on its descriptiveness.  On the contrary, it offers the setting so that we understand Abel’s conflict.  

A good story piles on one problem after another to keep a viewer compelled. Maybe one primary problem is wrapped up a little too neatly here, but no matter.  I also would have preferred better camera positioning from Chandor on occasion. Some characters who are being introduced for the first time are heard speaking off camera only to then be shown a close up of them with no more to say.  Happened more than twice and I can’t understand why.  I’m sure Chandor artistically intended it to be that way.  Yet, I didn’t like it.

Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain are great.  These are two actors rarely seen in the gossip rags.  So, they are more well known for selecting smart roles and stretching their flexibility for the parts they agree to take.  It’s refreshing. It’s why A Most Violent Year can be capably made with a great script (better than the film) amid all of the tentpole blockbuster sequels.  

It’s worth it to check out.

JURASSIC PARK III

By Marc S. Sanders

Jurassic Park III.  What’s to say?  Well not much.  The third film in the dino franchise plays like an extension of the first two.  Sam Neill is brought back as paleontologist, Dr. Alan Grant.  Sadly, the rest of the cast is terrible.  Yet, the dinosaurs remain marvelous.

Following an opening sequence parasailing adventure gone wrong, an enormously wealthy couple, the Kirbys (William H Macy, Tea Leoni), recruit Dr. Grant and his apprentice Billy (Alessandro Nivola) for a vacation excursion to the restricted island of Ilsa Sorna as a twentieth anniversary celebration for them to see the exotic, resurrected animals.  Grant and Billy are to be their tour guides.  The offer is too good for the doctor to refuse and off they go. Once on the island, the mayhem we’ve all grown accustomed to commences.

The intelligence of the Jurassic films only comes from one source, and that is the special effects makers of these animals.  The attention to detail in skin texture, eye movement, teeth, roars, claws, limbs and facial expressions are sensational.  You truly believe these are actual living creatures.  These wizards reinvent themselves with a new dinosaur known as the Spinosaurus.  Bigger than a T-Rex and at least as fast as the velociraptors.  This is a BEAST!!!!!! 

Director Joe Johnston takes the director chair from Steven Spielberg. While the magic is lacking this time around in some of the thrills and scares, at least the new director has some fun with a couple of gags.  A cell phone (the new novel household item at the time of this film’s release) plays for some laughs, especially when the Spinosaurus appears on the scene.  There’s also a magnificent sequence in the Pteranodon bird cage.  Love the Pteranodons.  Finally, we get to see the winged dinosaurs in action as they lift the various members of the cast into the air with their claws and snap their beaks for a couple of nips.  There’s a great close up of one Pteranodon that is one for the ages.  He turns his sinister head over his shoulder towards the camera with a “Wanna fuck with me?” expression.  It’s like it was modeled off of Robert DeNiro.  Great stuff.

Raptors are back, and while we may have seen all of this before, I don’t get tired of it.  It’s like seeing a thrilling car chase for the fiftieth time.  As long I’m thrilled, I guess I’m satisfied.  Nevertheless, being that this is the third chapter, I was hoping for something more with some insight in the film.

My colleague, Miguel Rodriguez, notes that this installment as well as the prior one serves merely as amusement park fun rides.  All true.  I think I’ve backed that up here.  However, there are so many unexplored elements within the franchise originally conceived by novelist Michael Crichton.  For example, there’s the secret scientific research and development company known as InGen – the party responsible for discovering how to resurrect dinosaurs in the modern age.  Three movies in, and we’ve barely gotten to know InGen.  I think it’s time we do.  There’s gotta be a CEO at the top who is twirling his mustache amid his or her dominance.  That would really play for some good storytelling.  At best, in all three films to this point, we just get the InGen logo printed on the side of some motorized vehicles and laboratory doors. 

Much like the Alien franchise (with Weyland-Yutani), these puppet masters are never fully realized.  One of the three (THREE????) co-writers of Jurassic Park III is director/writer Alexander Payne (Election, About Schmidt).  With a genius mind like that couldn’t we have been treated to something that had more depth than just jaws, beaks, teeth, claws and roars?  What we are left with is an annoying William H Macy (one of his worst career roles) and an even worse Tea Leoni (feels like I’m watching Chrissy from Three’s Company) as the Kirbys.  They quickly provide a twist to their purpose in the movie.  It’s a dumb twist.  It’s hard to believe a doctorate mind like Alan Grant is supposed to have never seen this unexpected turn of events coming and it takes up space where the writers could have spent time bringing more back story to the Jurassic Park universe.  Crichton lined it all up!  Why didn’t the filmmakers pounce on these golden ideas?

That’s all there is to say.  Jurassic Park III is a popcorn movie.  Nothing else.  It’s only just a somewhat satisfying popcorn movie, though.  You miss the Spielberg touch, and you wish for just a little more dimension.  You don’t get it, but you do get the “don’t fuck with me” attitude of a nasty looking Pteranodon.  That alone is worth ninety minutes of your time.