"We tolerate you."

In The Brutalist, fascination and desire exist without understanding. László Tóth's architectural work is treated much the same as he is in America; its strange, foreign quality is seen as something to be wary of, but an immense curiosity builds for his prestigious legacy. Van Buren repeatedly (and amusingly) comments on how intellectually stimulating he finds Tóth, but he's never truly listening to him. He likes the image of himself as a cultured man who serves the community, but he never engages with the substance of Tóth's work. He seeks to possess Tóth's creativity, as the immigrant success story Tóth could embody fascinates Van Buren far more than his own excess of wealth. The film highlights the genuine beauty of art while darkly depicting the lack of respect and even humanity for the artist behind it.

Though I'm still grappling with the intentional ambiguity of how the film resolves this, the exploration of post-Holocaust Jewish experience feels essential to the overall messaging. The image we hold on during the intermission reminds us that there was a time before the war when Jewish life could be open and vibrant. In its wake, there's comfort in gathering with a congregation, but this society remains as antisemitic as the one this family fled. Much like coming to America was seen as a source of hope, the prospect of Aliyah becomes an idea for new hope in the film's second half. It's not explicit, but there is this floating irony in Tóth's family journey of moving from one oppressive nation to another; is this yet another false promise, devoid of the freedom it's sold to us as having? The Brutalist itself offers fewer answers than its characters believe they have. To what extent can we decide what a piece of art or the value of life means, and to what extent are we asserting our own misunderstandings as truth?