One of the key facets of The Brutalist remains its subtle political commentary that laces the narrative, while making the period of the late 40s (where the drama begins) even more important. The geo-political situation of many countries had changed after the second world war, with folks particularly Jews from Europe having to fight for their identities. In that regard, The Brutalist focuses on Laszlo, a young Jewish architect who slowly wishes to blend with the locals in America. He has a reference point of his cousin Atilla who has changed his surname to Miller and has married a local American Catholic. Hence, the geo-political commentary extends to some of the characters early on even as you see Laszlo being reduced to a corner in the house while being ‘allowed’ to work as an ’employee’ by Atilla, even while being frowned upon by his Catholic wife (remember, the holocaust was a religious and racial conflict as well). In a fleeting scene, you see Laszlo practicing some English words to fit into a rather recluse and non-welcoming world, while wishing to start afresh. In another scene, there is a fleeting commentary on how locals treat outsiders wherein Laszlo is scoulded and snapped at for his consistent support towards an African-American in a queue for food.

One of the other interesting aspects of the drama remains its characterization and character dynamics. While Laszlo and Atilla share an inconsistent bond, primarily with the latter fearing a backlash given his visible support to his cousin, you are also introduced to the varied characters of Harrison (Guy Pearce) and his son Harry (Joe Alwyn). Harry remains an opportunist and a rather authoritative one even as he hires Laszlo and Atilla to renovate the library whilst his father is away. Harrison is a complex personality, although just as authoritative to begin with. In his introductory scene, you see him yelling and imposing his control on Laszlo, only to later make a U-turn and acknowledge his efforts. The subtle commentary here remains his ability to sugar-coat words and lure the individual in, selling him an American dream by giving him a free-hand, only to have him contribute towards American Imperialism. It was almost like a bonded labour of sorts for the protagonist, much like the capitalist times that we live in today, where labour is free and you are sold a dream of luxury whilst having you slog to eventually fill their coffers with a stash of money.

The varied and interlinked identities of Harrison and Harry have seeming bouts of dominance. In a scene, you see Harry making lewd advances to Zsofia, the niece of the protagonist without much reluctance. In another scene (and a shocking one), you see Harrison raping the protagonist while being drunk, almost to reflect on the twisted nature of their authority that laces the narrative. And in a way, it also can be implied that Harry remains a reflection of Harrison who may have either learnt ‘atrocities’ from his father, or even may have been a silent victim of the same. This is true in a scene wherein Harry’s expressions change of guilt when Erzsebet accuses his father of the heinous crime. The disappearance of Harrison too can be observed on two grounds – one being that he may have fled from the embarrassment, and the other a more complex one – of disappearing scot-free much like the capitalists of various countries (even today).

The drama also engulfs the pain and suffering of protagonist and his family, who are victims of first the holocaust, and second, that of American Imperialism. There are quieter moments of suffering even when the protagonist engages in intimate advances with his wife who is suffering from osteoporosis (an ailment accounting for the reduction of bone density). In a way, this ailment also defines the identity crisis of the protagonist, slowly crumbling under the authoritative nature of Imperialism. Therefore, Laszlo remains a man of few words, seldom allowing his aggressive streak to come to the fore (just once in a fleeting scene wherein his White peers look down upon him), and surrendering to his fate. Even in the scene involving him being breached by Harrison, there isn’t much retaliation, but more of a hapless surrender, all in pursue of his American dream.

Essentially, the two contrasting halves of the film have different stories to tell. If the first hour was about realising and constructing an American, the second hour was a serious commentary on exploitation and the deconstruction of the American dream. It was almost like the authoritative American personalities wishing for outsiders to contribute towards their country, while completely diminishing their dreams in return. Hence, the second hour becomes a complex narrative that only completes a circle with the epilogue. At the end, you see Laszlo reduced to a wheelchair having lost his ability to speak, but also being the architect behind beautifully constructed buildings that resembled his identity from the Holocaust, and depicted his equation of longing with his now dead wife. The pity remained that whilst he did live an American dream, the system took away a lot of his personal ambitions in return for virtually nothing, so much so, that the final description of the buildings was retold by his niece and not himself. The ideal situation remained on Laszlo addressing the crowd himself, with his wife and niece sitting in the audience. Unfortunately, the frame of an inverted Statue Of Liberty was true for him too. The last line by his niece summed up his horror perfectly – it was always about the destination and never about the journey (much like what imperialists wished for, much like we all care for – results, and never the hard-work and sacrifices along the way). The screenplay is wonderfully well penned and had me pondering for hours after the film had ended.