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Post by StevePulaski on Apr 26, 2018 9:52:27 GMT -5
The Godfather (1972) Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola Marlon Brandon (right) in The Godfather. Rating: ★★★★ The question everyone will likely ask me upon viewing the lengthy and heavily-celebrated Godfather I will not answer. That question is "is it really the greatest film of all time?" I can't answer it. I'm in no position to, nor have I seen every film ever made to correctly state that. How can you say what the greatest film of all time is if you haven't seen literally every film ever made? That question will never be answered. If you polled a million people, the question would still be answered with subjectivity. There is no possible way to define what is the greatest film of all time without any subjective input. It can't be done.
I will say The Godfather is an important film. Perhaps the greatest, but definitely one of the most important in the history of the art form. Its depiction of the mob, to my knowledge, is dead on, and runs like a stage play or opera at opus length. It is three hours long, and I recommend two or even three sittings before you finish it. To take it in all in one sitting is difficult, not just because of length, but because of content. It is five minutes shy of three hours and feels every bit as long. It's not a problem, since the film immerses you with intricate visuals, dialog, and its casual glide of events, but it makes for a sometimes testing excursion.
Everyone knows the story, so I won't go into it. Basically, we follow the Corleone family, an Italian mob run by Don Vito, played with unmatchable talent by Marlon Brando, after his daughter Connie (Shire) is married to Carlo Rizzi (Russo). After that, we see dramatic events following the wedding and run-ins with other gang outlets, fights, and lengthy monologues involving the family.
I grew up on Scorsese's mob flicks, and one who has will find a grand difference between Scorsese's portrayal of mob life and Francis Ford Coppola's portrayal. For one, Scorsese's mob films, of course we're primarily speaking of Goodfellas, were more about exploiting the lifestyle, with an outsider looking into the action, who would eventually become one of them. In contrast, Coppola brings us right into the lifestyle, not from an outsider's perspective, but from the perspective of many different family members. Don Corleone is not the main character in the film. Nor is Carlo Rizzi. Surprisingly, Al Pacino's Michael is the one who lifts most of the picture off the ground in terms of characters.
Pacino is outstanding. Every scene he's in, he possesses an undeniable screen presence that is equal parts ominous and electrifying. Brando brings a unique sense of direction to the screen as well. He seems calmer, more confident than any mob boss I've seen portrayed before. It doesn't seem like he needs to hammer home the idea he is the boss. He believes without a shadow of a doubt everyone knows it, and if they don't, they soon will.
The Godfather, like many classics, shows signs of age. It has a dated look to it, where all its colors appear to be washed out. It doesn't bother me, but I've heard others complain heavily. Some even find it to be "overrated" and boring. I don't really see it as that, mainly because I can see what makes the film top many "best film" lists. It has tremendous writing, intricate, serious directing from Coppola, gifted performances, and some of the most impressive cinematography, evoking seriousness, atmosphere, and detail to perhaps the sternest extent.
But I can see people being underwhelmed because of one inevitable outlet; pop culture and media. The Godfather has to be one of the most parodied films of all time, with lines, events, and monologues tempered with and mocked in frequent TV shows, movies, and even children's shows. I did a short film in high school about "The Doughnut Godfather," where a student dressed up in a fancy suit, put on a luxurious hat, and had a stuffed cat sit on his lap. This could very well make the film lose its serious aspect to some because immediately when we hear the line "I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse," we divert our thoughts to where we've heard that before.
Another big difference I noticed between Scorsese and Coppola's work is that Scorsese's mobster films are more about history, rather than characters. We do get heavy characterization, but each films seems to have a great deal of respect for mob history and real life events. Coppola focuses a lot more on characterization and performances, as well as creating vignettes involving the Corleone family, showing family meetings and murders. When we look back at Goodfellas, we do think performances, but we more or less think of events that shocked and surprised us. When we think Godfather, we immediately reminisce about the extremely involved and award-worthy performances.
This could very well be one of the greatest films I've ever seen, but again, who am I to judge? My job is to say if I enjoyed a film and do I see audiences liking it. I'm sure many, if not every person, reading this review has seen The Godfather, and if not, then they have an extra task on their list. Unfortunately, some won't see the beauty because so many grittier mobster films have come out, that don't involve heavy monologues and intricate performances, and pop culture has greatly subtracted the impact the film once had. This shows gangsters in a different light. Ones that don't feel the need to boast power or success. They know you already know what they've done just by how they speak, act, and move.
Starring: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Richard S. Castellano, Robert Duvall, John Cazale, Sterling Hayden, John Marley, Richard Conte, and Diane Keaton. Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola.
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Post by StevePulaski on Apr 26, 2018 10:30:22 GMT -5
The Godfather: Part II (1974) Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola Al Pacino is Michael Corleone, the dynasty's new Don, in The Godfather: Part II. Rating: ★★★★ One of the justifications for The Godfather's length (which seems to get shorter every time I see it) is its responsibility to show the glacial progression of Michael Corleone from staunchly individualistic in remaining removed from his family's mob ventures to pensive and complicit, accepting the throne after the death of his father, Vito. Scenes run long, but more importantly, cuts are infrequent as well; Michael's change isn't one that happens overnight. It takes moments of grooming in the form of killing police officers during an evening dinner and intimidating crosstown families by standing confidently on a stoop acting as if you're brandishing a handgun to scare off a potential mugging — or worse. We couldn't have gotten the full scope of Michael's change had it happened in 100 minutes, nor would it have felt authentic. After three hours, we are almost brought to mouth the words, "how could you?" when we witness the iconic ending. But we don't. We know the answer, or later come to find out.
The Godfather: Part II is an intriguing "rise and fall" story because it's a story of falling halfheartedly disguised as rising. Had this sequel been the first Godfather, it's quite possible that the tone of this film would've been much different. We might've seen Michael Corleone as a figure to envy; a self-made man in pursuit of honing his role as Don. Instead, we see his story as one of selling out and comprising principles in the face of family pressure; one that shows him as caught between his desire to minimize the mob connections of the Corleone family yet haphazardly handle them to the point of bringing more danger to him and his kin. Francis Ford Coppola and co-writer Mario Puzo silently ask a lot of questions during the film and one is plainly carried throughout the film: how do you go back to being a college student and Marine Corp vet and onto a career as a promising lawyer when you've done things in your life you'd be hardpressed to defend your clients for doing?
The film, however, opens with a young Vito Andolini in Corleone, Sicily in 1901, who sees his mother and brother killed trying to avenge the death of his father, who insulted the wrong Don. Young Vito sees a window to escape to New York's famous Ellis Island, where he becomes Vito Corleone. Sixteen years later, the future head of the Corleone dynasty (played by Robert De Niro) has a wife and kid, and overtime, a name for himself as a legitimate mobster with poise and carefulness. Unlike Michael, his ascent to the top is methodical, with a menacing relationship with Don Fanucci brewing as well as the foundation of the guise of an imported olive oil business that gives them something innocent to say over dinner conversation. On the other hand, Michael's tumultuous ascent as Don is marked by his attempt to remain loyal to a business partner (Lee Strasberg) despite the partner not being so loyal to his family, as well as a move to Nevada in lieu of an attempt on him and his pregnant wife (Diane Keaton). His head swells to the point of being domineering towards his young brother, Fredo (John Cazale), and only loyal to his adopted brother, Tom (Robert Duvall), which creates friction between the Corleone family, who already feels like they're being further nudged out of the picture by competing families.
Coppola artfully interweaves these two narratives in and out of one another; not an easy thing to do when both could sustain feature films of their own with the same 200 minute length. While maybe not as precise or as broadly coherent as its predecessor, The Godfather: Part II's ambition as both a followup to one of the greatest films ever made as well as one that creates two involved storylines makes it sturdy enough to stand on its own as a compelling, generation-defining motion picture. Some sequels can't be properly examined without the ground built by their previous installment. I'm confident someone could jump into the Corleone saga with The Godfather: Part II and still believe they've witnessed one of the most profound cinematic achievements in storytelling and aesthetic they've yet to see, although I wouldn't advise it just because that means you haven't seen the 1972 icon.
By juxtaposing the rise of Vito and Michael during separate times in history in one movie, you also get an appropriate sense of their personalities based on the mood Coppola and expert composer Nino Rota choose to create. During Vito's rise in the fertile playground of New York City, Rota's music has a bit of an exuberant pep in his chords in addition to an exoticism that goes along with the idea of an Italian immigrant combating a discriminatory environment by going around the law, finding his own way to command respect. During Michael's rise, Rota's strings are mournful and somber, reflective almost in their sounds that make so many scenes so unexpectedly downtrodden. If raised on contemporary mob movies of Martin Scorsese and Brian De Palma, your moviegoing senses have likely learned to embrace the illegal activity and the corruption of morality exhibited by the likes of Henry Hill, Carlito Brigante, and Tony Montana (the latter two also played by Pacino). Modernist film techniques of SteadyCam right down to age-old techniques of montage and depictions of excess probably have prompted a covetousness in you once or twice. There's no room for these emotions in Michael's story. Even Vito's story has a sad inevitability.
If you didn't notice how great the supporting performances were in The Godfather, you'll certainly notice in Part II. It comes as no surprise Al Pacino and Robert De Niro are so great, but I'd argue just as noteworthy are the performances by John Cazale, who brings a sometimes depressing vulnerability to Fredo, convincing to the point your heart can't help but break for a man usurped by his younger brother thanks to pure manipulation. In addition, Robert Duvall brings gravitas throughout, especially in the famous court-scenes, where in a rare moment, all eyes turn to the adopted member of the Corleone family speaking on behalf of a larger dynasty in which he's found an awkward liminality of being on both the inside and outside. Adding on, Diane Keaton, Lee Strasberg, Talia Shire, and Gastone Moschin as Don Fanucci. They're all exceptional.
The Godfather was an exercise in groundbreaking style; a generational story conducted on an epic scale with intense violence, harrowing drama, and the visual aesthetic of a portrait. If there was a film you could compare to the Mona Lisa thanks to its artful precision and unrivaled impact, it would be that one. Moreover, The Godfather: Part II is an exercise in modernism, as foundational for the genre in a contemporary sense as Josef von Sternberg's 1927 silent film Underworld was for the genre's works for the next several decades. By boldly developing two distinct storylines, with warm visuals and and picturesque photography (thanks again to Gordon Willis), Coppola's sequel uses tactics that made Martin Scorsese's invaluable contributions to the gangster genre possible — more accessible to audiences. The Godfather: Part II institutes a new standard for the aforementioned genre, the thought of which practically unthinkable in itself given the immense order of following such an impacting film.
Starring: Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, John Cazale, Diane Keaton, Lee Strasberg, Talia Shire, Michael V. Gazzo, and Gastone Moschin. Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola.
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Post by StevePulaski on May 6, 2018 12:27:08 GMT -5
The Godfather: Part III (1990) Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) strikes a relationship with the Vatican in the final installment in the Godfather trilogy. Rating: ★★ In continuing (and concluding) the saga of Michael Corleone (Al Pacino), The Godfather: Part III catches him in a pensive yet determined state of mind. Rattled by guilt in his old age with plans to legitimize his criminal empire, Michael looks to Corleone-partnered businessman Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna) as the man to helm a massive deal with the Vatican Bank. The deal would help the bank clear its debts in exchange for substantial, controlling shares in a sister real estate company, a move that would make Michael capable of appointing himself and others to its board of directors. The Corleone's couldn't make a deal with God, so they opted to get the man of God to permit them to sign the dotted line.
Meanwhile, Michael's head is still desired by feuding families intent on disrupting his quest for creating harmony and solidifying a legacy. He takes his nephew, Vincent (Andy García), under his wing as a protégé, and places the street-wise soul on the frontlines of business that walks a fine line between lawful and unlawful. Vincent also becomes romantically involved with his first-cousin, Mary (Sofia Coppola), who is kept unaware of her father's role in the mob. Vincent's training wheels don't even come off before he recognizes there is something shady going on with Zasa amidst this Vatican deal. With that, a familiar assassination attempt has Michael deeply contemplating his future, and he does his best to talk through deep-seated issues with his ex-wife Kay (Diane Keaton) and Don Altobello (Eli Wallach), a partner of Zasa's.
All of this and more unfolds in the divisive but nonetheless fascinating conclusion to what is still one of the most respected series in American film. Even with the albatross of this underwhelming third-part, The Godfather: Part III has certain appeal as both a movie and a sequel with a task more daunting than its predecessor. Part II had the ostensibly insurmountable task of trying to at match the level of greatness of the original and somehow did it even with a hefty storyline. Part III not only has to follow one great film, but two, and unfortunately suffers significantly due to a questionable narrative, weak supporting characters, and the sense that its existence is more an accessory than a nail-biting continuation of the Corleone dynasty.
Originally never intended to come to fruition, Part III came about after the catastrophic financial failure of several Coppola films in the 1980s, including One from the Heart, Gardens of Stone, and Tucker: The Man and His Dream. With depleting finances, fading relevance, and intense pressure from Paramount to cap-off what was seen as the perfect trilogy in the making (despite their initial hesitance with Part II), Coppola signed on in a move he makes no qualms about justifying was due to his own financial uncertainty. Whether we as people like to admit it or not, most of us look to the familiar in times of distress for our own sake, and The Godfather: Part III is proof that desire for comfort and soothing ground doesn't even escape one of the most cherished filmmakers in the history of the medium.
Beginning with the narrative, the film never adopts the coherency of the previous installments. This is a tricky complaint because the same accusation has been levied against Part II for its juxtaposition of Vito Corleone's humble beginnings with Michael's own rise amidst a combative landscape amongst mob families. Part II succeeded in treating both stories as if they were one film, intersecting at appropriate times with Coppola and Mario Puzo cautious in a screenwriting sense of when to begin and end a scene (or a scene within a scene). From New York to Sicily, the Vatican to the opera, Part III hops around rather recklessly, sometimes aimlessly, with extended dialog devoted to the Corleone negotiations with the Catholic Church that become more of a plot burden than a tool for immersion.
Thanks to all the heads that rolled in the previous part, The Godfather: Part III is also forbidden from housing the host of recognizable supporting performers that made the franchise so dense in its talent. Gone are the wise-words and guiding hand of Robert Duvall's Tom Hagen and no more is the sympathetic appearance of a worn down Fredo, who was played so effectively by John Cazale. Instead, an uneven mesh of cross-generational talent bleeds into the overall product. Andy García's Vincent is far and beyond the best of the new faces, providing the kind of youthful freshness that plays into the "legacy" subtext ubiquitous enough to be considered the surface-text of the film. García is always so slick in his supporting roles, to the point where he bleeds into the backgrounds in his films due to the more domineering presence of other characters/actors, which is perhaps why he still doesn't seem to get much love for his role here. Mantegna's simply fine as Zasa, only truly great in one scene involving Vincent, while Talia Shire and her Connie character are made more irksome in their role and Wallach not as strong Michael V. Gazzo in Part II.
As far as Sofia Coppola's much-maligned performance as Mary is concerned, it's no secret: she's not great. At 19-years-old, she's clearly overwhelmed by the accomplished talent around her, as anyone would be in her position. Her shaky presence does indeed loan some credibility to her character being so consistently out of her element, yet realism in this regard still renders scenes between her and Pacino's Michael to be awkward and unmoving. From a writing perspective, it's also not particularly clear what makes Vincent drawn to Mary in the first place. Mary seems motivated by the dueling forces of security and danger she perceives around him (notwithstanding the need for connection within her own extended family), while Vincent has no logical reason to become involved with Mary, especially given his growing closeness to her father. Had the emotion and passion existed between the two, it would've been acceptable, but it seems like a needless subplot that only calls into question the decision-making of Coppola — who before we could almost trust without second thought.
One also gets the sense that both Coppola and Puzo were running out of things for the Corleone family to do, largely due to how much time is spent on the Vatican deal. This goes back to the way The Godfather: Part II concluded; with no stones unturned and few essential characters left breathing. In Part III, a perpetual state of "now whatness?" looms over the characters like a post-war fog. As a result, Michael and Kay's relationship feels like that of a college couple who broke up many moons ago yet still feels the need to come back together and try to address what went wrong. The earnest discussions between Michael and Vincent are limited, and while it's possible that some scenes examining Vincent's rise to power would've made for an intriguing angle, it's likely it would've made a paradoxically bloated and undernourished film that much more convoluted in its narrative focus.
Even with these gripes, I can't bring myself to call The Godfather: Part III a blemish on the trilogy. Despite being the shortest of the three films yet still somehow feeling like the longest, there are some admirable strengths within this epic that most bad films would be hard-pressed to include. The third-act juxtaposition of Cavalleria rusticana with the Corleone family's entire legacy of family sacrifice and old world conflict is an ambitious device to include, plus it's successful at sustaining the suspense the editing gives it. Cinematographer Gordon Willis returns to further extrapolate his warm tones onto the film's visuals that recall the days of yore for fans of the series as well. And while the melodies of Carmine Coppola's score don't generate the same effect Nino Rota's versatile strings had for the previous films, they're still capable of inspiring real resonance. The Godfather: Part III could be deemed as sloppy and as uncouth as the legacy of the Corleone's, and deservedly so. But there's still too much here to brush off as a flat-out disappointing endeavor — as disappointing as it ultimately is.
Starring: Al Pacino, Andy García, Diane Keaton, Sofia Coppola, Joe Mantegna, Eli Wallach, Talia Shire, Bridget Fonda, and Franc D'Ambrosio. Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola.
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