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The Brutalist: A Review - American Dreams and Nightmares

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3.25 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT.  A dramatically uneven, cinematically stellar, ambitious movie about ambition that is not a great film but a film that wants to be great.

The Brutalist, written and directed by Brady Corbet, stars Adrien Brody as Laszlo Toth, a talented Jewish Hungarian architect who survives the Holocaust and comes to America to start a new life.

The film, which has garnered 10 Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor and Best Supporting Actress, is favored to dominate this year’s Oscars.

I have many thoughts on the philosophy and ideology expressed in The Brutalist, but will save that discussion for a second, more in-depth “analysis and commentary” article I will publish at a later date. For now, I will simply review the film.

The Brutalist is a film so cinematically ambitious as to be audacious. It is a film that asks a lot of big questions, and tackles a lot of big issues, and does so all on a miniscule $9 million budget, and a monumental three-hour-and-thirty-five-minute run time.

The film is exquisitely photographed using VistaVision, and has been released in both 35 mm and 70 mm. I watched it, twice, on a SAG screener in my house and was astonished at the cinematography by Lol Crawley – who is, in my mind, the undeniable star of the film.

Crawley’s camera movement, lighting and most of all his framing, are sublime. This is a small budget, arthouse film that looks and feels expansively epic, in both scope and scale, thanks to Crawley’s work.

The film is designed to question America and the American dream, and to give voice to not just the immigrant experience but the Jewish immigrant experience in particular. It deftly uses stock footage, newsreels and radio reports to set the stage and strengthen the not-so-subtle sub-text.

Writer/director/producer Brady Corbet has also spoken about the film being a metaphor for the filmmaking experience itself…which is plain to see. Filmmakers are, at least in some cases, artists who must navigate a cold and cruel capitalist system just to be able to make their art. Filmmakers aren’t painters who can buy a canvas and some paint and go to work. No, filmmakers need money to make their movie and therefore must get into bed with those that have it (in some cases…literally).

The same is true for architects like Laszlo Toth. An architect must have a benefactor…someone who has the desire to make a great building, the means to do so, but not the artistic vision and expertise to bring it to life.

The Brutalist as metaphor for the filmmaker’s plight is certainly insightful, if not a bit self-aggrandizing, and considering the film’s politics (which will be discussed in length in my second article) egregiously hypocritical.

Regardless of that, there can be no doubt that Brady Corbet had a big idea and was able to translate it onto the big screen. Kudos to him.

Not so good for him is that the film, which boasts a first half as good as any seen this year, stumbles badly in its heavy-handed second half. The film, which again, runs for three and a half hours, actually has an intermission…and it is after the intermission when it loses its grip on its narrative and its storytelling.

The biggest problem with The Brutalist is that it tries to do so much that it ends up doing not quite enough of anything.

For example, it is an immigrant story, an American capitalism story, a Jewish story, a Holocaust story, a love story, a sex story, an artist’s story and a drug addict’s story. The drug addict angle in particular is superfluous to the point of frivolous, as is the sex story, which does nothing to enhance the narrative but only confuse it.

A major problem for the film is the character of Erzsebet Toth, Laszlo’s wife who follows him to America. Erzsebet is played by the woefully miscast Felicity Jones, an actress I usually like quite a bit. Erzsebet’s arrival on the scene signals the end of the film’s tight grip on its drama, and the beginning of a rudderless wandering into the wasteland of dramatic doldrums.

The character of Erzsebet would have been better served never being seen, but rather as a sort of dream from Lazslo’s past never to be regained.

The rest of the cast are hit and miss.

Adrien Brody, who is nominated for a Best Actor Oscar for his work as Laszlo – a fictional character by the way, is good in the film. He has a lot to do and he definitely does it. I didn’t think his performance was transcendent, but I thought he did an admirable job. Considering the last-time I saw Brody act was when I recently watched the series Peaky Blinders, where he played an Italian gangster from New York in the 1920s…and it was one of the worst, most embarrassingly awful pieces of acting I’ve ever witnessed, and now he is probably going to win his second Best Actor Oscar, speaks to how insane Hollywood can be.

Guy Pearce is very good as Harrison Van Buren, the rich American who becomes enamored with Laszlo’s talent and hires him to build his dream project. Pearce really sinks his teeth into the role and never relinquishes his steely grip, devouring every scene he inhabits.

Other performances, like that of Alessandro Nivola as Laszlo’s friend Attila, and Joe Alwyn as Harry Van Buren Jr, seem to disappear the moment they wander onto screen. They are so weightless as to be non-existent.

There’s one final performance that is worth mentioning…and that is of Raffey Cassidy as Zsofia, Laszlo’s niece. What struck me about Cassidy’s performance is that she looks remarkably like Daniel Radcliffe, the actor who plays Harry Potter. So much so that I literally was wondering if Daniel Radcliffe was playing Zsofia in drag in some sort of arthouse tomfoolery – amusingly I wrestled with this question for quite a while as I watched. What is even weirder is that Raffey Cassidy, in real life and even as Zsofia, is a truly beautiful woman…which left me very, very confused. The bottom line though is that Raffey Cassidy is NOT Daniel Radcliffe, and Daniel Radcliffe is NOT Zsofia. Mystery solved.

The Brutalist intentionally calls to mind other ambitious films that, ironically enough, are about ambition, like Godfather II and There Will Be Blood. Unfortunately, The Brutalist shrinks exponentially in comparison to such cinematic greatness as Godfather II and There Will Be Blood.

The Brutalist’s biggest flaw, besides its over-abundant narrative, is that it gets so heavy-handed with its not-so-subtle symbolism in the second half of the film that it loses a great deal of its credibility, coherence and artistic good will.

The bottom line is that I am glad The Brutalist exists, and I’m glad Brady Corbet is so ambitious as to make it, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a great film.

I do not think The Brutalist is a great film, but I do believe it wants to be great, and is a great attempt to make a great film, and that makes it much more worthwhile than 99% of the garbage made nowadays.

If The Brutalist wins Best Picture at the Oscars I won’t be dismayed, even though I don’t think it’s the Best Picture I’ve seen this year. I will celebrate its win because hopefully it will allow for other filmmakers to take equally big swings when they get their turn at bat.

Brady Corbet took a big swing with The Brutalist and he flied out to right field just short of the warning track. No shame in that. Maybe the next guy, or maybe Brady Corbet the next time he gets up, will hit it out of the park, or off the wall, or into the gap for a double. Hell, at this point in cinema history I’d take a bloop single, a walk, or a hit by pitch over the strikes out that keep piling up.

Make no mistake…The Brutalist is infinitely better, and more worthwhile than recent Best Picture winners Nomadland, Everything Everywhere All at Once, and the god-awful CODA.

As for recommending this movie…I do recommend people give it a shot and watch it with an open mind. It will be, simply said, a bridge too far for most normal people. It’s expansive run time, challenging themes and numerous dramatic narratives, will be too much for normies to digest, especially since the film is not a cinematic classic like Godfather II or There Will Be Blood.

But just because I think most people won’t love it, or even like it, doesn’t mean I think people shouldn’t give it a shot. I didn’t love the film, but I admire its ambition, and I watched it twice.

So, if you have three and a half hours and want to wallow in lukewarm arthouse waters contained in a gloriously crafted, artisan bathtub, then give The Brutalist your attention. At the very least it will trigger discussions about both its quality and its philosophy/ideology…which are decidedly meaty topics for debate…and in my eyes a movie that triggers debate is definitely a movie worth watching.

©2025

Licorice Pizza: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT: A rather disappointing work from the usually brilliant PT Anderson that you can skip at the theatre and check out when it comes to a streaming service.

If Paul Thomas Anderson isn’t the greatest filmmaker working today, he is certainly in the discussion. From his earliest masterpiece Boogie Nights to his most recent, Phantom Thread, as well as with There Will Be Blood, The Master and Magnolia in between, Anderson has shown himself to be a true auteur and master craftsman.

After having suffered through this apocalyptically awful year of cinema, my hope was that PT Anderson would ride in and save the day with his newest film Licorice Pizza, which opened in L.A. and NY on November 26th and went nationwide on Christmas Day.

Unfortunately, Licorice Pizza cannot redeem 2021, as it is not a great film. Yes, it’s well shot and occasionally amusing, but also often meandering and repetitive. Ultimately, it’s little more than an endearing and pleasant but mostly forgettable movie. That said, cinema this year is the land of the lollipop kids and Licorice Pizza may very well be the tallest midget.

When glancing at PT Anderson’s filmography, it’s a staggering collection of brilliant works, and Licorice Pizza wouldn’t even come close to cracking his top 6, despite arguably being one of the best film’s of 2021, which is more an indictment of the cinema of 2021 than it is an endorsement of Licorice Pizza.

The film is a coming of age story that revolves around Gary, a 15 year old child actor, and Alana, a 25 (or so) year old ne’er do well, as they navigate their tumultuous friendship/relationship. Making their feature film debuts, Cooper Hoffman (Philip Seymour Hoffman’s son) plays Gary and Alana Haim (member of the pop-rock sister band Haim) plays Alana.

Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim are fine in the film, a bit one-note, but fine. They aren’t particularly charismatic or compelling, but they aren’t repulsive either. They don’t seem overwhelmed on-screen, but they also don’t quite have the tools to do the work necessary to make the rather thin story work.

Less a coherent narrative than a series of loosely related vignettes, the film deftly transports the viewer back in time to Los Angeles in the 1970’s. The 70’s were a great time for music and a lack of bras, both of which are duly highlighted in Licorice Pizza.

This loose cinematic structure results in an often meandering movie that lacks heft, both dramatically and psychologically, and creates an absence of character evolution and dramatic arc.

The film’s decided lack of character arc, development and depth, and its superior sense of setting, transform the film into a “hang out” movie, one of my least favorite genre of film (other famous hang out movies are American Graffiti, Dazed and Confused and Frances Ha). Gone is a driving narrative and in its place the audience just gets to hang out and experience rather than being taken for a ride.

The one thing I found somewhat intriguing about Licorice Pizza was that it often seemed like a savvy but subtle meditation on American capitalism, as the movie’s de facto lead character, Gary, is incessantly entrepreneurial. Also feeding that notion are the featured gas shortages of that era - and their accompanying rage, as well as upper class tyrants like Jon Peters (a savage Bradley Cooper) and “Jack” Holden (Sean Penn) preying upon those beneath them.

The film is, not surprisingly, beautifully shot, with PT Anderson and Michael Bauman sharing Director of Photography credit, and boasts a terrific and well utilized soundtrack that features The Doors, Paul McCartney and Wings, David Bowie, Gordon Lightfoot and Blood, Sweat and Tears.

But while the beautiful visuals and luscious soundtrack elevate the movie, they also highlight its lack of substance and dramatic vigor. Licorice Pizza isn’t a case of the emperor having no clothes, it’s more a case of a beautiful wardrobe having no emperor.

There just isn’t enough meat on these bones to satisfy the most basic hunger for drama and character, and thus Licorice Pizza ultimately feels fanciful but also fleeting and forgettable.

The bottom line is that Licorice Pizza is a disappointment, a beautiful disappointment, but a disappointment none the less. If you’re a fan of PT Anderson, lower your expectations and try to find a 35 mm screening, and then it might be worth it. For everyone else, just wait for it to come out on a streaming service and check it out then…when you can “hang out” with it in the comfort of your own home.

©2021

The Power of the Dog: A Review

****THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS!! THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE REVIEW - YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A self-indulgent, dramatically inert and suffocatingly dull piece of empty Oscar-bait and arthouse fool’s gold that is as vapid as it is predictable and trite.

There has been a considerable amount of Oscar buzz and critical acclaim swirling around the new Netflix film The Power of the Dog, and understandably so, as it stars one-time Oscar nominee Benedict Cumberbatch and is written and directed by Jane Campion, who won a Best Original Screenplay Academy Award back in 1993 for The Piano.

The movie, based on Thomas Savage’s 1967 novel of the same name, tells the tale of the Burbank brothers, Phil (Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons), two cattle ranchers in Montana in 1925. The brothers are very different people, with Phil the grizzled, hard-edged cowboy and George the more reserved, rotund and less respected suit-wearer.

When George marries a local widow, Rose (Kirsten Dunst), and becomes step-father to her very “special” son Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee), the story takes a turn.

As a devotee of the arthouse, The Power of the Dog, which on its surface appears to be an intricate, gritty, western drama in the vein of Paul Thomas Anderson’s brilliant There Will Be Blood, would seem to be right up my alley.

After having watched the film all I can really say is looks can be deceiving.

Critics are fawning all over the self-indulgent, dramatically inert and suffocatingly dull The Power of the Dog, giving it a 95% rating at Rotten Tomatoes, but I think the only reason for that is because the film is allegedly a mediation on “toxic masculinity” and it’s directed by a woman.  

For instance, Brian Truitt of USA Today gushed over the movie declaring it “a picturesque, enthralling exploration of male ego and toxic masculinity, crafted by an extremely talented woman…”

Peter Travers of ABC ejaculated, “Can Jane Campion’s western about toxic masculinity and repressed sexuality win Netflix its first best Picture Oscar? Let’s just say that no list of the year’s best movies will be complete without this cinematic powder keg.”

The problem with these critics, and with director Jane Campion, is that apparently, they not only have no idea what great cinema is anymore, but they also have absolutely no idea what genuine masculinity is either, nevermind its toxic variety.

The biggest example of that is the praise Benedict Cumberbatch is receiving for his portrayal of Phil, the supposedly toxically masculine cowboy who bullies and berates those around him with abandon.

I like Benedict Cumberbatch as an actor, but let’s be honest, he isn’t exactly the picture of robust masculinity. In fact, he is so miscast as Phil that watching him strut and prance around in his cowboy regalia and put on a faux tough guy pose, takes on a most comical of airs. The main reason for that is Cumberbatch’s inherent delicateness and utter lack of manliness.

Phil needs to be a menacing, ominous physical presence, but Cumberbatch is a dainty posh Englishman and with his mannered American accent he comes across, as they say in Texas, as ‘all hat and no cattle’.

Phil is supposed to be an emasculating bully – so much so that, just like Jane Campion slaughters subtlety, he actually castrates young bulls by hand. But Phil comes across less like a bully and more like a High School mean girl brat who isn’t going to beat anyone up but sure as hell will say something catty and hurtful.

One of the main targets of Phil’s “toxic masculinity” is Rose’s teenage son Peter. Peter is a painfully thin, very effeminate young man who dresses like a dandy and likes to make flowers out of paper. Just so audiences are made completely aware of how effeminate the character is, and also so that nuance can be completely dispatched and unintentional comedy heightened to the maximum, when Peter is demeaned by Phil and a bunch of ranch hands at a dinner, he responds by going out behind the house and frantically blowing off steam by using a hula hoop. No, I’m not making that up.

The film’s insight regarding masculinity and its toxicity is as deep as a pool of cow’s piss on a flat rock. For example, not to ruin the surprise for you, but… in a plot twist you could see coming from miles away like a steam train crossing the plains on a cloudless morning…the reason Phil is a mean-spirited son of a bitch is because he’s a closet case homosexual.

Let’s be clear, you don’t exactly need the most advanced form of gaydar to see Phil’s hidden, super-secret sexual yearnings. Phil’s sexual proclivities are pretty obvious when he’s waxing nostalgic about his dead friend Bronco Henry as he delicately strokes Henry’s old saddle.

One of the few things I did like about The Power of the Dog was its score by Radiohead guitarist Johnny Greenwood. But even that has its downside, as Greenwood’s score for The Power of the Dog is very reminiscent of his score for There Will Be Blood…and conjuring that masterpiece does no favors to this flaccid film.  

Come to think of it, I suppose The Power of the Dog is sort of like a cross between There Will Be Blood and Brokeback Mountain, but just without the powerful performances, insightful scripts or deft direction.

Ultimately, The Power of the Dog is not man’s best friend because it’s a movie about masculinity made by people who know nothing about the subject. It’s empty Oscar-bait and arthouse fool’s gold that is nothing more than a symptom of the plague of mediocrity that is currently ravaging the art of cinema.

So don’t waste your time on The Power of the Dog as this mangy old mutt needs to be taken out behind the barn and put out of its misery.  

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota Podcast: Episode 16 - There Will Be Blood

This week Barry and I dive into our Quarantine Watch List to ponder the often overlooked modern classic from Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood (2007).  This movie features director P.T. Anderson and acting great Daniel Day Lewis at the top of their games in a museum worthy movie you can watch over and over again in order to study their mastery of craft. If you are a cinephile you can watch the movie, listen to the podcast and then re-watch the movie, or if you’re a little worried the movie might be a bit slow or complicated, you can listen to the podcast and hear our thoughts, favorite scenes and what to watch out for that will help keep you engaged during your cinematic experience.  Check out There Will Be Blood on Netflix today!

LOOKING CALIFORNIA AND FEELING MINNESOTA: EPISODE 16 - THERE WILL BE BLOOD

Thanks for listening and please stay safe and healthy out there!

©2020