I'm astounded.

Only vague spoilers below:

The first sequence of this film culminates in a shot that brought me to tears. The cinematography continues to climb from this point, far and away the best of the year, among the best of the decade. The craftsmanship on display is astounding, as the dedication to every frame mirrors the precision and care that László takes in every aspect of his work as an architect. The score is perfectly utilized, accompanying every moment with poignant noise. The interstitial metatextual audio clips are used to communicate themes tastefully. I don't believe I have seen a director as a man on a mission in much the same way since Cuarón with Roma.

Throughout the film, we see a man humbled, tossed about through various traumas and trapped in cycles of addiction and obsession. László endures more than the film lets on until our discoveries slowly unfold. The story of the immigrant experience is forever resonant to me. Like other great immigrant films we have been gifted in recent times, including Problemista the same year, as well as Minari and The Farewell before, there is a specificity here that is significant. Latino and Asian immigrants may be more salient groups today, but there was a time when Eastern Europeans were demonized, before then Southern Europeans such as myself, and it is impossible to discuss this film without discussing its depiction of Judaism.

I found that it beautifully encapsulated the relationship Jews arriving after the Holocaust have had with the society of the United States, one which discriminates against them in several ways, for their religion and their birtholace, an intersectional lens that should be familiar to all of us well-versed in Twitter activism. Our America is a country that demands perpatual humility on the part of the immigrant. We open our arms often, promising a land of opportunity often fulfilled. Yet the cycle of demand for assimilation and refusal of complete acceptance and belonging never ceases.

It is here, then, that many will take issue with the film, understandably so, as this tension is used as an argument for Zionism. Yet I do not feel the film endorses the state of Israel in its theocratic embodiment, in its actions today, in its persistent attitude toward the people of Palestine, or even in the sense articulated by some of the characters. We see László himself refute the idea before embracing it, providing the counterargument about identity that is only weakened once he endures the greatest trauma on screen at the hands of his benefactor(s). I do not wish to endorse ideas beyond the ability for all governments to be multicultural democracies that enable people to live their lives meaningfully and safely without persecution. Yet I feel it is possible for art to portray reasoning of a people in a place in time and impossible for this film to have tackled what it did without including what it has. Perhaps some will not be satisfied, will be upset enough by the explicit nature of this acknowledgment. I understand, yet I demand more of us as audience members to engage with works with more of an open mind.

The epilogue ties together all of the film's themes with poeticism, as we discover the truth behind László's insistence on his exact vision for the specifications of the building in Pennsylvania. He is, yes, an artisan. We see his buildings, including those from photographs earlier and those made after the events of the main story. The meaning imbued from his idea of the enduring nature of his edifice and the relationship between the past and present is fully articulated. Yet we learn he is more than the protagonist of The Fountainhead. The accusations of his self-centeredness are false. There is real significance to every choice he makes, we learn the meaning of his struggle and it moved me.

I knew this was special at intermission. The breeziest three and a half hour film I've seen. There is some discussion about the contrast between the first and second half. I was inspired by the first, then initially felt pulled down by the second. There's a narrative decision that involves a bait and switch of little consequence, seemingly only to usher in the third act, but I am generally not critical of that sort of decision in a film I already feel invested in, especially compared to game where I have to trudge along for hours.

This is a film that grows in my mind as I distance myself from it. Eliza cried several times. I feel an inevitability in it, that it is a work of great art that we will all acknowledge belongs in a canon.