When you envision an Oscar-worthy score for some epic sprawl like The Brutalist, perhaps you think of grand orchestras in state-of-the-art studios. To the contrary, composer Daniel Blumberg deplored convention and gifted the film with its evocative music using an unpretentious minimalist setup that fit neatly into a carry-on suitcase. This quirky artistic decision enabled him to shoot across continents and collaborate with more than 20 musicians in different locations-from London’s Cafe Oto to an Italian marble quarry, capturing the haunting and transformative soundscape of Brady Corbet’s historical drama.
It bears witness to the thematic heart of The Brutalist, the story of a Hungarian Jewish architect, László Tóth, who has survived Auschwitz and flees to America, with Blumberg’s dedication and versatility. It is through his monumental works that industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren takes notice of him, and through them enters a charged decades-long relationship. A meditation on creative obsession, trauma, and the clash between artistic integrity and patronage as it explores ambition and survival, the movie is so contemporary yet of its time that it may remind one of The Heiress in pictures.
Speaking over Zoom days before his Oscar nomination for Best Original Score, Blumberg detailed his portable recording setup. “I have a very specific recording setup that fits in a suitcase,” he explained. “Half of the suitcase is filled with mics and the other half has a Sonosax recorder, a small, digital, but very high-quality recording device.” This helped Blumberg record in offbeat spaces, like the garden shed with a Steinway piano or bassist Joel Grip’s studio in Berlin.
Budgetary constraints, however modest, did not dissuade him. Daniel Blumberg himself played his own music from time to time simply to finance his travels and equipment; this single-minded obsession recall Tóth’s creative compulsion in the film. He managed to pay tribute to the distinctive creative processes in his collaborators, and the score is completely steeped in the authenticity of its performers.
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Daniel Blumberg worked with a pantheon of iconic musicians, including pianist John Tilbury, saxophonist Evan Parker, and trumpeter Axel Dörner. The sessions made by Tilbury in his garden shed became the piece “Overture (László),” which continues to have that “in-progress” quality about it, defined by the process rather than the result, perfectly in keeping with The Brutalist.
Other contributions came from Sophie Agnel, piano-string improvisations; Vince Clarke with a synth-pop beat; and dramatized bebop jazz performed live by drummer Antonin Gerbal and others on set. Recorded in cities such as New York, Berlin, and Budapest, these elements combine into a score that reflects the film’s complexity and depth of emotions.
A great highlight of the score is Erzsébet’s theme, which follows the emotional arc of Tóth’s wife, Felicity Jones. “It’s such an overwhelming idea: for [László] to meet his wife who he’s been separated from through all that trauma of the war,” Blumberg reflected. The theme begins in a pure, restrained form echoing their reunion’s poignant weight. However, as the plot unfolds and the couple struggles with addiction and hopelessness, the theme dissolves into chaotic improvisation. This was achieved in sessions with Dörner and Carina Khorkhordina, where structured melodies gave way to improvisational spirals.
Blumberg, in approaching the score of The Brutalist, didn’t approach his work in quite the same personal manner. As he puts his personal projects to the side with the exception of the occasional show or two to support the cost of recording equipment; and focuses relentlessly, the outcome creates an auditory texture that allows people to get better immersed into Corbet’s visions. “It was a small budget to work with, so I was doing two or three shows a month to sustain being able to work on it for so long,” he explained to Pitchfork.
The Brutalist is not a movie about architecture or survival; it’s actually about creation itself—its sacrifices, its triumphs, its tolls. Blumberg’s nomadic, deeply collaborative process mirrors the scope of the film’s themes, making a score that stays resonant long after the end credits.
