The more movies I watch, the greater my appreciation for films that reach a pinnacle of what the medium can achieve, even with noticeable weaknesses. These flawed masterpieces are a rare phenomenon, so count me surprised to see two examples – Queer and The Brutalist – a day apart from each other at TIFF this year.
The films have widely different aims. Queer is a languorous, trippy chamber piece drama centered on one lonely person. The Brutalist is an epic, propulsive immigrant story tackling various American thematic elements, from capitalism to art, racism to xenophobia. However, each movie has parallel strengths and weaknesses. Both films have extraordinary acting and technical underpinnings, underscored by visionary directors. Yet each film’s ambition bumps into unsatisfying final acts that wrap up their stories on a sour note.
Queer generates a sense of place that’s unlike any other movie I’ve seen, effectively Edward Hopper on acid. Most of the story takes place in 1950s Mexico City, but the setting has a slippery, hard to pin down aesthetic that splits the difference between realism and fantasy to land on some trippy, hyperreal midpoint. Several elements, like the outfits and acting mannerisms, are grounded and period-appropriate, but they are smashed against an overly saturated color grading with a production design and lighting setup that doesn’t disguise an artificial set. The mix of new and old, natural and hyperreal, extends to the soundscape with an anachronistic soundtrack (e.g., Prince, New Order) and a Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross score that mixes woodwinds with synths, creating an enveloping sense of longing. Watching a well dressed, drunk William Lee (Daniel Craig) stumble down the street as Nirvana’s “Come as You Are” blares in the background is quite the experience.
The Brutalist, in contrast, has a more grounded, classical feel. Anyone who’s watched their share of 1970s and 1980s epic dramas like The Godfather, Heaven’s Gate, or Once Upon A Time in America will find aspects of the picture bracingly familiar, a movie from another time. DP Lol Crowley shot the film on widescreen 35mm VistaVision, the first feature to use the format in 27 years. Colors are largely true to life, with some standout usage of shadows (a la Gordon Willis’s work in Godfather). Like other New Hollywood epics, director Brady Corbet explores broad themes of art, capitalism, and post-WWII America through the lens of the immigrant story.
But The Brutalist isn’t content to be a well-executed nostalgia act; it’s also refreshingly modern in its writing (some shockingly upfront explorations of sexuality, racism, and antisemitism), acting, editing (jump cuts, nonlinear continuity) and in Crowley’s visual template. Even with the vintage film stock, the camera is often handheld or on a Steadicam, heavily relying on long takes and sustained two shots.
One example of The Brutalist’s marriage of new and old visual language is in its opening sequence, capturing immigrant architect László Toth (Adrien Brody) heading to the deck of a ship arriving at Ellis Island. In one bravura handheld long take, the camera dips through the ship’s interior behind Toth as he pushes through hallways and up stairs to emerge on deck. While Daniel Blumberg’s thunderous score underlines the importance of the moment, the way the camera captures Toth’s walk feels mildly claustrophobic and relishes the effort required to reach the destination; it’s effective foreshadowing for some of Toth’s struggles to come. As Toth reaches the surface, Crowley’s camera pans to a full frame shot of the iconic State of Liberty…inverted. It’s a skewed perspective on common visual shorthand for the immigrant experience, a hint of some of the narrative’s more modernist flourishes.
Both Queer and The Brutalist also benefit from career best performances by their lead actors. Craig is simultaneously playing off and distancing himself from his work as James Bond in Queer by presenting a fascinating divide between William Lee’s external and internal states. Lee is a louche flirt and romantic out on the town, filled with self-loathing and loneliness. Lee is boisterous, timid, declarative, meek, and a debonair man who also falls apart at the seams. It’s the kind of complex characterization that requires a careful balance of playing otherwise contradictory moods, sometimes even within a single scene or shot. Too much suave charisma would make Lee’s internal struggles feel pithy. Conversely, too much negative internal momentum makes Lee’s ability to turn on the extroverted playboy persona look ridiculous. Craig’s multi-layered performance never lands a false note.
Adrien Brody’s work in The Brutalist as Toth is equally transformative. Toth’s defining trait is his unyielding gusto and vision as an architect, which are the backbone behind his successes and failures throughout his multi-decade story. Watching Brody disappear into such a passionate figure is fascinating to watch. In one early sequence, Toth and his cousin Attila (Alessandro Nivola) secure a commission to redesign a private library. After an initial inspection, it’s time to negotiate a contract for the work. Attila treats the opportunity as a lucky break that demands compromise. Even with barely a dollar to his name and what feels like having just arrived in the States, Toth immediately sizes up the contract and confidently insists on a high price and work requirements. It’s a scene that mostly depends on understated dialogue and physical movement, but having watched to this point Brody as Toth in a humble (if not borderline meek) behavior suddenly shifts into confidence underscores how multidimensional and humanist the character is. It’s an intriguing turn, and Brody’s performance helps what could have been a three and a half hour bore fly by.
Still, for all the praise I’m heaping on both films, I can’t ignore several serious stumbles. For Queer, a movie already at an intentionally languorous pace becomes a slog as Lee and company decamp Mexico for the jungle. Leslie Manville pops up in a bizarre, almost unrecognizable supporting performance; there’s judicious use of CGI animals, and character actions are all over the place. A surreal epilogue with shades of 2001: A Space Odyssey helps close out the movie for me on a high note, but for a film shortened from a rumored three hour cut, I would have slimmed down even more.
The Brutalist has a back half twist that feels underexplored and a final twenty minutes that feel oddly paced, at times rushed, and give multiple characters bizarrely truncated conclusions. Also, a practically flawless screenplay pre-intermission has some head-scratching lines of dialogue in part two that are guilty of “tell don’t show.”
Still, a few weeks after watching the films at TIFF, the weaknesses have mostly faded from memory, while the strengths still linger. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been so forgivable. Films with flagrant mistakes, regardless of merit, I gave lower Letterboxd ratings, never wrote about, rewatched, or sometimes even gave a second thought. But with mainstream filmmaking in an increasingly precarious state, largely spit out onto streaming sites as anonymous “content,” I’m thankful for genuinely original artistic swings we get, even when flawed. The highs of Queer and The Brutalist are the perfect counterweight to the film industry’s increasing triviality. Artistically, we’re better off for it.