Brutally Iconic: The Lost Architects of Bauhaus

What would happen if one of the Bauhaus architects had jumped off the Nazi train and survived? The Brutalist follows the journey of László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a Hungarian Jewish architect and furniture designer who survives the WWII and seeks a fresh start in America in 1947. The film takes inspiration from visionary architects and designers from brutalist period like Marcel Breuer, Le Corbusier, and Mies van der Rohe. With the created rooms, buildings, and furniture on a shoestring budget under the Judy Becker’s production design we actually see many references in the film. From now on you will see an interesting and journey of a young architect from immigrate boat to a Venice Biennial. Although I had never written a film commentary before, I felt compelled to do for this one in which truly stole my heart and lingered in my thoughts for hours after watching. It would be much more concise for to begin the film with Zsófia’s (Ariane Labed) final words at the Venice Biennale:

“Throughout his life, his ambition was not just to define an era, but to transcend all times. In his memoirs, he describes his designs as machines free of unnecessary parts. His designs do not define anything, they do not tell anything, they simply exist.” This perspective mirrors the brutalist approach in the film: an architect who is used to creating from nothing demonstrates how simplicity and silence can be as powerful and loud as noise. What makes this film significant to me is not only its portrayal of the first modernist furniture but also the way it led me to reflect deeply on the architect’s background. Zsófia’s closing words struck me so strongly that I found myself rewatching the ending many times. For this reason, I place it among my niche films — works that stay with me because they do not just depict design, but open a space for contemplation on the essence of architecture itself.

The Van Buren Institute

Everything begins with the Van Buren Institute, designed by Judy Becker. The building embodies the idea of freedom, the horror of the concentration camps, and serves as a symbolic passageway between László and Erzsébet. Its entrance was inspired by architect Harry Weese, who designed the Washington D.C. subway system — a space where Becker aimed to create an “imaginary land” that one steps into rather than just a film set. As she explained in an interview with Set Decor:“I was trying to think not as a set designer but as an architect, and trying to get into László’s mind as an architect, not my own mind as a production designer.”

She further noted: “One of the things about Brutalism and its importance is the void of historical reference. It’s only forward-looking. And I think that’s one of the reasons people often hate it — like atonal music, it doesn’t have anything they can relate to. And for László, that’s the point. He is saying goodbye to history and everything he wants to forget.”

Although not executed in a strictly Brutalist style, the Van Buren Institute reflects the existential weight of László’s trauma and lived experiences. In this way, it resonates with Daniel Libeskind’s Berlin Jewish Museum — different in aesthetic language through its deconstructivist form, yet similarly haunted by memory, absence, and silence.

Simplicity in Concrete

While the set design clearly drew inspiration from Tadao Ando, Becker noted that she studied his Church of Light carefully, not to replicate it, but to capture its spirit. Ando’s guiding principle, simplicity as strength, is woven throughout the film’s architectural language, echoing László’s own ethos of restraint and clarity.

Who is László Tóth?

Brought to life with depth by Adrien Brody, László represents not just a single character, but the multitude of creative voices silenced by the war. Many modernist architects — Marcel Breuer, Walter Gropius, and others — had already left the Bauhaus long before WWII. The filmmakers instead imagined the story of one who survived, asking: what kind of creativity might have been stifled in the camps, and what could have emerged if given the chance to flourish?

As Becker explains: “The whole background was influenced by Breuer to a degree, but I tried to make László’s design work his own.”

The Library Reveal

The library scene is one of the film’s richest contrasts. While designed in an art deco style that fits the Harris family’s heavy, ostentatious character, it also represents the traditional men’s club library. From dark, red, and heavy furniture chosen by Patricia Cuccia to the high shelves and minimal light introduced by Becker, the space reflects both tradition and transformation.

Furnitures Take the Lead

László is inspired by what he sees in his life, and he is used to working with very little. Just as Marcel Breuer used cinder blocks in his own home, Becker drew from that same principle of humble materiality. We first encounter this in the scene where László transforms his cousin’s store: from a cluttered showcase of heavy American furniture into a refined, minimalist modernist showroom. The very first thing that catches the eye is the striking modernist desk and chair he designed, now taking center stage. “Tubular steel was common at the time of the Bauhaus, and many designers were creating similar cantilever chairs,” explains Cuccia. “We wanted Tóth’s designs to reflect his struggle, using the simplest forms he could find, while still staying true to his vision.”

The filmmaker Brady Corbet, who has been working tirelessly for seven years on this film, speaks of how architecture is as demanding and challenging as the independent film industry itself. Beyond the film's underlying messages and filmographic flow, the film's overall theme, referencing architects like Mies Van der Rohe and Alvar Aalto, also literally dedicates the film to Marcel Breuer, whom we consider a pioneer of brutalism and Bauhaus, and revives him in a parallel universe. Thanks to this film, we are at least reminded of modernist furniture and brutalist architecture, which we had forgotten.