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Given the number of indelible performances he’s given since breaking out world-wide with only his third big-screen appearance — The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert in 1994 — it’s astonishing that Guy Pearce doesn’t have an awards shelf creaking with the weight of career-affirming statuettes. That could change after Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist, an epic drama (complete with 15-minute intermission) in which an emigrant Hungarian architect, László Toth (Adrien Brody), seeks political asylum, and a creative outlet, in post-war America. As the ultra-rich Harrison Lee Van Buren, an apparent philistine who becomes Toth’s artistic champion, Pearce steals the show.
DEADLINE: How did you become involved with The Brutalist?
GUY PEARCE: Well, it came about in a very easy way, to be honest, because Brady had expressed an interest in me playing the role. So, it went via my agent in America. I’m trying to think when that was… Maybe two and a half years ago. It was quite a while back.
DEADLINE: Did you know Brady before that?
PEARCE: I’d heard of him. I’d heard of Childhood of a Leader, but I hadn’t seen it. So I did some homework, and read the script, and I pretty much loved everything I was witnessing. Then I got to chat with Brady, and it just felt like one of those opportunities that was exciting, because it felt unusual and unique. It’s funny when jobs come along, because there’s a whole range of responses. Sometimes you can feel excited by the director, but the script needs work. Or the script may be great, but it’s the director who you don’t feel particularly inspired by. This was one of those ones where it all felt right.
DEADLINE: How would you best describe the script?
PEARCE: It was long, it was big, and it was detailed. I found the way in which the characters were realized quite intriguing. From an acting point of view, the stuff that was in there was just really interesting to me, in terms of how one might play a character like this. I don’t remember how many pages it was, but I certainly got the sense that it was quite epic. I think it was probably longer than most other scripts I get. The intermission existed in the script, with the photograph that we see on the screen while the rolling intermission takes place. It was very clear from the outset that he had a vision. My memory of it is that it was pretty much the same as the finished film. Like Chris Nolan and Memento, the finished film is pretty much a mirror of what was there on the page.
DEADLINE: So, nothing changed at all?
PEARCE: With someone like Brady, you just feel that there’s a real sense of exploration — of human behavior and psychology — that leaps off the page. So, if anything was trimmed or shaped slightly differently, I don’t really remember. I just remember feeling that Brady was somebody with a great sense of heart and a great desire to explore human interaction, and human foibles, and strengths and weaknesses.
I think I said to him at some point, at the end of the process, “Look, if there’s anything you ever want me to come and do, I’ll do it.” Because, with Brady, you feel like you’re in trusted hands. You’re in the hands of somebody who has as much interest in trying to understand people as I do — in fact, more so — whereas some films are far more about… Just other things, I guess. Obviously, every film involves people. But I’m always more interested in the inner workings of a human being than I am in — perhaps — ideas, even. I’m just fascinated in dynamics between people.
DEADLINE: How did he picture the character? Did he give you the script and leave you alone, or did he give you homework?
PEARCE: No. If I’m going, “I’m not seeing this, you need to give me a bunch of homework in order for me to understand what it is you’re trying to say,” then I think we’re in trouble. That’s not to say I haven’t done jobs before where I’ve done research, and I’ve delved in, which I probably would do just out of curiosity to a degree anyway. But with this I felt like I was able to see this character as I was reading him. Which is, to me, always the best. I do my best work when that’s my response. It’s always the most enjoyable and exciting experience where I almost feel like I could start filming the day after I’ve read the script.
I’ve been on films before where I go, “OK, the director seems to have some interesting ideas, but I can’t quite see the character yet, so I’m going to have to cobble some stuff together to try and find it.” Sometimes you really do find it. Maybe there’s a little clincher moment. Like a photograph, if you’re playing a real person, or a photograph of someone else who makes sense to you. You might see something in their eyes and go, “Aha! Got it.” But if I don’t get that, or if I don’t at least feel that, then I feel like I’m fudging it. I feel like I’m cobbling something together and trying to present something which just doesn’t feel authentic. [Laughs.] And then we’re in trouble!
DEADLINE: What was the eureka moment here? What was your way into Van Buren?
PEARCE: Well, just reading the script. It was very clear. He’s worked hard for his life, but what he’s attained for himself translates into a power, where he feels an ownership of the space that he’s in, of the people around him. I went to a private school, growing up, and I still am friends with some of those people from school. Some of them have become very wealthy. I witnessed this power that these people pursue. I guess we’re all trying to identify ourselves. We’re all trying to feel confident in what it is that we do in our lives, and to feel OK in the world, and the way in which we do that varies. For some people, once they attain certain things, or once they become successful, they go, “Aha, that’s the thing that gives me my identity!” That can present itself in an obnoxious way, or it can present itself with great humility, and there are six million variations in between.
The interesting thing about Van Buren, I think, is the way we see him in that very first scene he’s in. Obviously, he’s triggered by a very emotional moment; his mother’s about to die and there are trespassers in his house. We get to see the explosive, unstoppable train that he knows he can be to get what he wants in life. But then, in the second scene, we see him be quite touching. He’s in a cafe with László. He’s realized, and he’s learned, who László is, and he’s actually moved. One of the things Brady said to me was, “Look, Van Buren has great taste. He’s got a great sense of artistry and a great appreciation for the finer things in life.” But then what comes into question is this: Is his appreciation for László because of his skill and artistry and brilliance, or is it tinged with envy and complication? It’s like Salieri; he can recognize the genius. And the more he recognizes it, the more he’s frustrated by it, because he doesn’t actually have it himself.
You see the two extremes of Van Buren in those scenes, and I thought there was something interesting about that. Apparently, my grandfather was the same. My mother’s father used to get horribly drunk every night and scream and yell. I don’t think he was ever violent, but he was violent in his energy. The next morning, when he’d sobered up, he’d be saying, “Oh, come on, what’s wrong with you all? How come you’re all in a bad mood?” It was really almost schizophrenic behavior, because everyone else was then on eggshells going, “How do I deal with this person?” But I think [for the film] it was important, as did Brady, to present a character who had a heart, and sensitivity, and had an awareness of artistry. So, our audience is going, “Well, I don’t know what to do with this guy because I’m scared of him. But I do feel sympathy — to a degree.”
DEADLINE: Van Buren’s attitude to László changes when he reads about himself in a glowing magazine article — “A Millionaire Amid His Moderns” — and realizes that his work validates him as a man of wealth and taste.
PEARCE: It says so much about power, and when I use the word power, I mean just in our own internal way. Like the moment in the store when someone’s trying to sell you something and you don’t want to buy it, but you feel a bit powerless in the moment. Or maybe there are little moments throughout the day when you do feel confident — you feel like you have power — and those around you are affected by that. But, obviously, with someone like Van Buren, it’s more extreme. I suppose on some level it’s the Donald Trump version: the bigger, the better. That’s what gives him his power, because he sees people swoon at his feet. [Pause.] It’s funny, actually. I mention Donald Trump because I was watching a documentary about him on Netflix recently [Trump: An American Dream]. When you see him younger, there’s less bravado, there’s less…
DEADLINE: Less pomposity?
PEARCE: Yeah. He doesn’t have his empire yet. Once you’ve got your empire, you’ve got to hang onto it. You’ve got to dig your heels in and go, “No, no, no, I deserve this.” Whereas in the beginning, there was a slightly more humble approach. Clearly, Trump, as we know, was trying to not only live up to his father but probably outdo his father, in a way. So, in the early days, he was having to work out how to do that. Then, of course, in later years, after he bought all his casinos, built all his buildings, he really believed that he was the man. And if you’re not going to be humble about it, you become this inflated version of yourself. It’s so difficult to deal with, when you’re watching someone like that, isn’t it? You know there’s some humility in there, but they’re not prepared to show it anymore.
DEADLINE: Did any of that occur to you while you were making the film, or is this something you’re reflecting on now?
PEARCE: No, no, no. I feel like my character had more class than Trump. I’m only reflecting on him now, I think, because I’ve just watched this series recently, where I’m reminded of what he was like as a younger man. But, no, I don’t think I thought of him at all when I was making the film. I just happened to catch a bit of the documentary. I was like, “Oh, that’s right. That’s what he used to be like…”
