If The Brutalist left you enthralled with its use of architecture as both a character and a canvas, there’s a wealth of films that delve into similar themes. The raw, unyielding beauty of brutalist architecture has long captivated filmmakers and audiences alike. Its monolithic forms and stark materiality create a perfect stage for exploring stories of alienation, power, and societal decay. From dystopian cityscapes to high-rise towers that crumble under their own ambition, these seven gritty architectural films showcase the power of design to shape narratives, evoke emotions, and reflect the complexities of the human condition through shapes and spaces they build and occupy.
The Brutalist (2024)
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Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist intertwines themes of architecture, identity, and trauma, using brutalist design as both a narrative device and an evocative character in its own right. The story of László Tóth, a Holocaust survivor and architect navigating life in post-war America, is brought to life through production designer Judy Becker’s meticulous creations. Becker’s designs, from the fictional Institute to Tóth’s Bauhaus-inspired portfolio, draws inspiration from various architectural influences, including modernist designs and historical references to create a space that embodies Tóth's complex experience. The Institute itself is laden with symbolism, representing both confinement (echoing concentration camps) and freedom. The film further amplifies these themes through Lol Crawley’s VistaVision cinematography, blending expansive visuals with geometric precision. With its symbolic production design and cinematic techniques reflecting brutalism’s ethos, The Brutalist becomes a poignant meditation on survival, ambition, and the enduring interplay between human experience and architectural form.
Blade Runner (1982)
Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner is a seminal work in the science fiction genre, celebrated for its groundbreaking visual style where design and architecture play pivotal roles in crafting its dystopian atmosphere. The film’s production design, spearheaded by Lawrence G. Paull and conceptualized by Syd Mead, merges brutalist influences with other architectural styles to create a unique urban landscape that resonates with the narrative’s exploration of identity, humanity, and technology. The city of Los Angeles in 2019 is depicted as a dense, overpopulated industrial sprawl, with towering structures and narrow streets evoking confinement and chaos. Scott’s vision emphasized a history of accretion, with buildings appearing layered and modified to reflect decay and survival. Paull’s incorporation of fascist architectural elements—inspired by his observations in Milan—adds to the claustrophobic and oppressive environment. Production techniques, such as Syd Mead’s detailed conceptual illustrations, meticulously constructed sets with low ceilings, and the integration of real Los Angeles locations, ground the futuristic vision in a tangible reality.
High-Rise (2015)
High-Rise, directed by Ben Wheatley and based on J.G. Ballard's novel explores the dystopian collapse of societal norms within a towering residential complex whose brutalist architecture symbolizes class divisions and isolation. The fictional architect Anthony Royal's imposing design becomes a metaphor for societal hierarchies, with floors physically demarcating social classes and slanted balconies fostering interactions while emphasizing inequality. Production designer Mark Tildesley transformed a sports center in Bangor, Northern Ireland, into a cohesive and decaying high-rise through modular set pieces that evolved to reflect progressive disrepair, enhancing the narrative’s themes of human descent into chaos.
The Belly of an Architect (1987)
The Belly of an Architect, directed by Peter Greenaway follows the life of Stourley Kracklite, an American architect tasked with curating an exhibition in Rome dedicated to Étienne-Louis Boullée. The film uses Roman architectural grandeur and circular motifs to symbolise cycles of life, death, and creative ambition. Kracklite's obsession with architecture reflects his struggle for identity within a world that seems indifferent to his suffering. His health deteriorates throughout the film, paralleling the decay of his artistic aspirations. The architecture he admires becomes a source of both inspiration and torment, illustrating the complex relationship between creator and creation. Mark Tildesley’s meticulous production design enhances this narrative with symbolic spaces, evocative sets, and a rich color palette that juxtaposes warmth with despair, while Sacha Vierny’s cinematography employs classical framing and symbolic imagery to connect architecture with broader existential themes.
The Fountainhead (1949)
King Vidor's The Fountainhead, based on Ayn Rand's novel, looks at architecture as a reflection of individualism and creativity, following Howard Roark, an innovative architect embodying Rand's Objectivist philosophy. The film presents architecture as a central theme, contrasting Roark’s functional, modernist designs with society’s collectivist preferences for traditional ornamentation, emphasizing the conflict between individualism and conformity. Roark’s designs harmonize with nature, reflecting organic architectural principles where buildings complement their environment, as seen in the Stoddard Temple, while his modernist aesthetic, characterized by raw materials and geometric forms, underscores his belief in honest, purpose-driven design. The production design mirrors these themes, with stark lines, open spaces, and minimalist sets embodying Roark’s ideals, while symbolic spaces, such as the courtroom, dramatize his struggle against societal norms.
Metropolis (1927)
Metropolis, directed by Fritz Lang, is a groundbreaking silent film that blends remarkable visual artistry with sharp social critique, using architecture as a central narrative device. Set in a dystopian future, the city of Metropolis itself acts as both a character and a backdrop, showing the stark divisions between the affluent elite and the oppressed workers. The architecture is deeply symbolic, with Art Deco aesthetics representing modernity and progress, but also oppression, as the towering skyscrapers of the elite contrast sharply with the grim conditions of the workers below. Lang incorporates Expressionism and Futurism, depicting a society obsessed with industrialization and technology, where the massive machines and sprawling factories evoke both advancement and dehumanization. The design also draws from Bauhaus principles, focusing on functionality and simplicity, yet the sleek spaces of the elite and the harsh environments of the workers highlight the film's critique of a technology-driven society. The production design features monumental structures that dwarf human figures, emphasizing the power dynamics and the insignificance of individuals within society. Iconic spaces like the Heart Machine serve as symbols of both technological progress and moral decay. Visual motifs such as clocks and gears enhance the themes of time, control, and mechanization, creating a cohesive visual language throughout the film.
Life as a House (2001)
Life as a House, directed by Irwin Winkler, is an exploration of family, mortality, and redemption. The film follows George Monroe (Kevin Kline), an architect who, after learning of his terminal cancer, decides to tear down his decaying family home and rebuild it with his estranged son, Sam (Hayden Christensen), symbolising his desire to mend their fractured relationship and confront past demons. The house itself serves as a metaphor for George’s life, mirroring his emotional decay and his quest for renewal through construction. As George and Sam rebuild, they also reconstruct their emotional bonds, with the physical labor fostering communication and reconciliation. Symbolic spaces, such as the father-son workspace, facilitate key moments of dialogue and understanding. A warm color palette is used during moments of healing, contrasting with cooler tones to signify isolation and conflict. Cinematographer James Wong Howe further enhances the film’s themes through framing that emphasizes the physical labor of construction, with wide shots capturing both the grandeur of the house and the intimacy of the evolving father-son relationship. Ultimately, Life as a House illustrates how architecture can serve as a catalyst for personal transformation, with the house standing as a metaphor for both physical and emotional rebuilding.
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