Adrien Brody stars in Brady Corbet's film.
Not long into "The Brutalist," the director Brady Corbet plunges us into darkness a darkness that, although neither formless nor void, marks the film as a creation story. Deep in the hold of a ship that has just arrived in New York Harbor, the camera is propelled deckward, alongside a weary Hungarian Jewish refugee, László Tóth (Adrien Brody), as he pushes his way through the crowd.
It's 1947, and the horrors that László fled in Europe he survived Buchenwaldseem to coalesce, below deck, in Corbet's virtuosic shadow play. The weight of the past bears down on László in the handheld jostling of the camera, in the ticking-time-bomb percussion of Daniel Blumberg's score, and, most of all, in the sombre, disembodied voice of László's wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), from whom he was cruelly separated. "There is nothing left for us here," she writes to him. "Go to America and I will follow you."
This story is from the December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025 edition of The New Yorker.
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This story is from the December 30, 2024 - January 6, 2025 edition of The New Yorker.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
ART OF STONE
\"The Brutalist.\"
MOMMA MIA
Audra McDonald triumphs in \"Gypsy\" on Broadway.
INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS
\"Black Doves,\" on Netflix.
NATURE STUDIES
Kyle Abraham's “Dear Lord, Make Me Beautiful.”
WHAT GOOD IS MORALITY?
Ask not just where it came from but what it does for us
THE SPOTIFY SYNDROME
What is the world's largest music-streaming platform really costing us?
THE LEPER - LEE CHANGDONG
. . . to survive, to hang on, waiting for the new world to dawn, what can you do but become a leper nobody in the world would deign to touch? - From \"Windy Evening,\" by Kim Seong-dong.
YOU WON'T GET FREE OF IT
Alice Munro's partner sexually abused her daughter. The harm ran through the work and the family.
TALK SENSE
How much sway does our language have over our thinking?
TO THE DETECTIVE INVESTIGATING MY MURDER
Dear Detective, I'm not dead, but a lot of people can't stand me. What I mean is that breathing is not an activity they want me to keep doing. What I mean is, they want to knock me off. My days are numbered.