Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist is the movie that Babylon fans wish it was — an insanely ambitious epic about art, the twentieth century, and the American project. (I see your Margot Robbie dancing with a snake, and raise you one Guy Pearce monologue about getting revenge on his grandparents.) The film feels like it was made specifically for my weirdo friends who won’t stop talking about Primo Levi, and I loved almost every minute of it.
However, it must be said: There are a lot of minutes in The Brutalist.