1 Film Introduction and the First Half

The Brutalist depicts the hardships and resilience of Jewish protagonist László Tóth, who flees fascism in Hungary during World War II to immigrate to the United States. László was a highly educated man who had gained recognition as an architect in his homeland, but in America, he’s merely an immigrant laborer with poor English pronunciation. He finds work at his cousin’s furniture store, having arrived in America earlier, but this arrangement doesn’t last long. His cousin has been changing his name and even the store’s sign to American versions, denying his roots and assimilating into American culture. Eventually, the cousin’s wife, who disapproves of the outsider László, creates discord, leading to his estrangement from his cousin and the loss of his job.

Subsequently, László stays at a public shelter for the homeless while earning a living as a day laborer on construction sites. He maintains steady correspondence with his wife, Erzsébet, and his cousin’s daughter, Zsófia, who are somewhere along Europe’s borders, trying to reach America. For a day laborer on construction sites, reuniting with his distant family seems like a remote possibility.

Then he encounters wealthy capitalist Harrison Lee Van Buren, someone from his past. Previously, when László was with his cousin, he had remodeled Harrison’s study but was driven away without compensation. However, that study eventually gained popularity and emerged as an icon of modern architecture. Recognizing László’s genius, Harrison—a symbol of American capitalism—personally sought him out to design a building commemorating his mother.

With Harrison’s help, László reunites with his family, and the first half ends on a high note, with expectations soaring that his architectural talents will finally flourish.

2 The Dramatic Turn Created by Intermission and the Second Half

Immediately after the first half ends, a 15-minute intermission begins. A countdown timer appears against the backdrop of László and Erzsébet’s wedding photo, the theater lights come up brightly, and the audience has time to visit the restroom. This was my first experience with an intermission in a film, and I felt it was truly the right choice to watch the film in a theater. The first half ends on a hopeful note, but the second half thoroughly betrays audience expectations, making the intermission serve as a device that powerfully amplifies this dramatic contrast.

His wife Erzsébet and Zsófia finally arrive in America, and László reunites with his family. Thanks to Harrison, his career also seems to be resuming. However, László gradually suffers and declines under company politics and exploitation. As construction halts due to a train accident and Harrison’s violent nature is revealed, the film takes increasingly unpredictable turns.

We generally expect that a protagonist who is talented and cherishes his family despite difficult circumstances would also possess admirable character. But László repeatedly engages in shameful behaviors—prostitution, pickpocketing, drugs—revealing himself to be not a saint at all, but a fragile, fallible, ordinary human being.

3 The Epilogue and Art’s Sublimity Etched on Screen

Nevertheless, László obsesses over his work—the construction of the ‘Van Buren Center.’ His wounded wife and niece eventually leave America to start new lives in Israel, but László remains in America, absorbed in his work. His creation, which had aroused curiosity throughout the film by showing only fragments of the building, finally appears in its complete form in the film’s latter half.

The film’s twist is completed in the briefest epilogue. Decades later, in the 1980s, at the first Architecture Biennale, the person giving a speech in honor of László’s work, in place of the ailing architect, is none other than his niece, Zsófia. But she interprets the buildings in a completely unexpected manner. Her speech includes references to László drawing inspiration from prisons where Jews were confined during the Holocaust—yet no such context was ever revealed in the film.

Just as the audience feels bewildered by this sense that the long journey following László’s sincerity has somehow gone awry, the film ends. But upon reflection, I believe this moment contains the valid message of ‘The Brutalist.’ The moment art leaves the creator’s hands, it inevitably becomes layered with countless interpretations and misunderstandings. And even after going through all these processes, the resulting work can still genuinely resonate with someone.

Brutalism was an architectural movement that developed primarily during the post-war reconstruction period of the 1950s to 1970s, utilizing raw concrete and exposed structures as its architectural language. The ‘Van Buren Center’ in the film is a space created in the style of Brutalism, and the completed building’s grandeur and materiality directly reflect and display László’s obsession and solitude as an artist.

This architecture, realized through the contrast of light and concrete, evokes Tadao Ando’s ‘Church of Light,’ a representative work by the renowned Brutalist architect, providing audiences with an intense visual experience. The film’s message—that art sometimes becomes distorted and misunderstood, yet still leaves behind a sense of sublimity—seems to resonate more deeply when encountered on the big screen. This is also why I’d recommend watching the film in a quiet theater.