In every sense, director extraordinaire Brady Corbet’s period drama about a Jewish architect who emigrates to the United States after World War II is a mammoth: its decades-long story, gargantuan set pieces and, perhaps most of all, its headline-grabbing running time.

“The Brutalist” runs more than three and a half hours and includes an intermission – making it the first major film with an additional intermission since 1982’s “Gandhi.” (Note that at some 70mm screenings in New York, the intermission lasts nearly half an hour to allow for changes in film packages.)

But don’t let the marathon length put you off. Because in addition to its size, there is also its outstanding quality. At the end of the year, “The Brutalist” finally gives us the enchanting epic for adults that 2024 was otherwise missing.

Adrien Brody, doing some of his best work since The Pianist 22 years ago, plays Laszlo Toth, a fictional Hungarian designer who arrives at the bottom rung of the social and professional ladder in 1940s America and gets dirt in his fingernails claws his way to success while his personal life falls apart.

The actor gives himself completely to the role and brings to exciting life the complex plan of a visionary, a puddle of tears, a tyrant, a wallflower, an addict, a unique talent and a likeable everyman.

The harrowing ride of the spirited Laszlo and Corbet’s film festival are both ambitious.

Although the architect wants a safe and prosperous life for his family far from the horrors of the Holocaust, his passion for creating bold, modern buildings tends to prevail. Just like his demons: alcohol, drugs, sex. He is anything but morally heroic.

And Corbet, at a sprightly 36 years old, aspires to make a sprawling and ambitious film that he grew up with but rarely gets a theatrical release anymore. That’s exactly what he did, to say the least.

Many of the images Corbet conjures with cinematographer Lol Crawley — a trumpeting arrival at Ellis Island, a light-filled library, a mausoleum-like Italian marble quarry — are as sumptuous as anything in last year’s “Oppenheimer.” But “The Brutalist” only cost about a tenth of that to produce. The team should teach a budget class.

The first steps of Laszlo’s journey are familiar, if more meaningful than usual. He boards a bus from New York to Philadelphia and encounters obstacles along the way: assimilated family members he no longer recognizes or understands, fanatics, low-wage work, the subsistence level.

His circumstances improve – but it’s not quite that simple – after he takes over the book room of a mansion for the son (Joe Alwyn) of an Andrew Carnegie-style millionaire, Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce, what a live effect ), redesigned in a breathtaking way.

Laszlo’s project ends up in a magazine and becomes the talk of the town.

The image-conscious Harrison then commissions the Hungarian to build an expensive, spectacular memorial to his late mother and a community center in the style of his new type of brutalism.

The dangerous battles on the construction site are only surpassed by the tension at the kitchen table.

The first half of Corbet’s film is no different from “Tár,” starring Cate Blanchett, in that the script, performances and locations are described in such detail that you could easily be forgiven for thinking you’re watching a biopic about a real man things you’ve never seen, heard of.

Then, in the second part, after you return with fresh popcorn, the film shifts focus to more intimate and sordid character issues that would be left out of any history book.

Laszlo’s wife Erzsebet (Felicity Jones, crumbling dry ice) arrives shocked and wheelchair-bound with her mute niece Zsofia (Raffey Cassidy) and finds that their marriage has lost the spark. What brings them together is something no licensed therapist would recommend.

Back at the construction site, the architect’s personal and professional relationship with Harrison becomes delicate and takes a shocking turn.

Corbet’s climax of secrets revealed and lives destroyed in a palatial estate has shades of The Great Gatsby. And some will find that the final hour and 45 minutes flirt with soap opera and are less preferable than the first chapter. Not me. It’s the bold change in tone and sharp departure from the typical rags-to-riches immigration card that holds our interest for nearly a sixth of a day.

To say that I was never bored would not be entirely true.

In fact, I was always transfixed.

With his stunning performance, Corbet immediately becomes one of the most exciting young directors in brutal Hollywood.

No, one of the most exciting directors. Period.