THE GODFATHER 50TH ANNIVERSARY: 4K UHD Blu-ray (Paramount, 1972-91) Paramount Home Video
To say Francis Ford Coppola’s The
Godfather was a highly anticipated movie for Paramount Pictures in 1972 is
an overstatement. Regarded with more trepidation than promise by the executive
brain at Gulf + Western, the corporate leviathan having swallowed whole this
once proud cornerstone of the motion picture industry for a paltry $600,000 in
1966, Coppola fought a long – and, at times, highly precarious battle,
bolstered only by his personal convictions he was making a masterpiece, and
thus, utterly devoted to will it into existence. Despite his Italian heritage,
Coppola thought Mario Puzo’s novel a rather tawdry affair, eventually
recognizing its potential as a story of succession. The Godfather is,
essentially, the time-honored tale of a king with three sons vying to inherit
the legacy of an organized crime syndicate they neither understand nor – as
fate would decide – can manage without losing their souls. Recently appointed
VP in Charge of Production, Robert Evans went to bat for The Godfather,
but frequently found himself the lone supportive voice in a boardroom hostile
to practically every request Coppola made along this very bumpy and
bullet-riddled road to greatness. No one liked the idea of hiring Marlon Brando
as the name above the title. Brando’s eccentricities and temperament were
legendarily rumored to have delayed every major movie he appeared in since
1962’s disastrous and costly Mutiny on the Bounty. And Paramount was not
warming to the subject matter either. The Godfather appeared to be a
clunky gangland ode to hit man stereotypes, shooting off their mouths and
pistols, and, turning New York’s east side into a veritable bloody gumbo of discombobulated
body parts. Perhaps they hadn’t read the book, or had and worried – needlessly
in the end – that Coppola’s collaborative transformation of Puzo’s prose into a
manageable screenplay would cost decidedly more than it was worth.
Like science fiction, mob movies
then were considered money-losing B-grade fodder to fill the cheap seats for
the Saturday matinee. Indeed, Paramount’s most recent attempt at this sub-genre
– Martin Ritt’s The Brotherhood (1968) had tanked. Coppola, however, was
neither interested in perpetuating the cinema stereotype of the lumbering,
fractured-English ‘dumb guinea’ he believed to be wholly untrue, nor extol the
virtues of a life in organized crime through a Hollywood-ized glamorization of
the novel’s frequently gruesome vignettes. What appealed chiefly to Coppola was
the sense of integrity Puzo’s characters possessed - hard-working men of
conscience, devoted to their families, and otherwise believing in the promise
of the American dream, only to have their ambitions shattered, forced into
impossible situations from which only a life in organized crime could protect
them from even more insidious influences in an altogether morally corrupt
outside world. In retrospect, the exploration of these themes became
crystalized as the franchise evolved from one movie into a trilogy. The first
movie is all about a man’s brutal sacrifices to provide for his family. But the
second is an almost biblical parable echoing the sins of the father revisited
upon the son. The third, a Shakespearean-structured reflection (nee, nightmare)
merely carries over the more careworn cliché, ‘like father/like son’.
In reviewing The Godfather 50
years after its debut, one is immediately struck by how sincere Coppola and
Puzo remain to these unlikely truths and, at their core, reverent to extoling
the ‘ordinary’ in these otherwise extraordinary individuals. The Corleone
family is driven neither by greed nor ambition. Held together by a devout
patriarch, who sanctions and administers his brand of ‘justice’ from the
armchair in his shuttered study, more than anything else, The Godfather is
a saga about familial solidarity and the fiery incandescence of that next
generation, threatening to dismantle such already flawed, if time-honored
‘principles’ among thieves. There are moments in Coppola’s trilogy (though
particularly in the first two movies) that seem more genuine, perhaps even than
life itself. Coppola’s vision is grim, operatic and fearless in wielding such
an awe-inspiring discipline to make a truly unique and very fine work of art.
Connie’s wedding, as example, just feels like a memory, the outdoor reception
suggestively ‘not staged’ for the Hollywood cameras, but stolen from a series
of snapshots with the guests, unaware they are being filmed. It is, of course,
a ruse. The sequence is expertly paced and edited by Coppola, cut together with
all the verisimilitude of an amateur party guest – albeit, one possessing
finely honed powers of very keen observation and a photographic eye - let loose
with his first Kodachrome camera. We have cinematographer extraordinaire,
Gordon Willis to thank for ‘the look’ of The Godfather; Willis, the
aptly nicknamed ‘prince of darkness’ who, as Coppola once put it, “skates on
the outer peripheries of the emulsion”, drawing barely noticeable detail
from the murky density of those dimly lit frames. Willis’ copper-toned tinting
to invoke the mood of late 40’s Americana set a new standard and established a
trend for period picture-making.
Reportedly, Paramount exec, Peter
Bart insisted on Coppola’s participation as director, chiefly because he could
be had for a bargain basement fee. Indeed, Coppola’s independent film company –
American Zoetrope – had fallen on hard times and a $400,000 deficit still owed
to Warner Bros. for cost overruns on George Lucas’ THX 1138 (1971). But
Production Head, Robert Evans has always held fast to that decision as ‘good
casting’, as only an Italian American would understand the more intricate
details and dynamics of the Corleone family unit. To this end, Sergio Leone had
been Evans’ first choice to direct, turning to Coppola only after Leone
declined the offer as he was already well into preliminary development on his
opus magnum, Once Upon A Time in America, a troubled and lengthy
gestation that, for various reasons, would not materialize on the screen until
1984 and even then, recut and bastardized by the studio, unceremoniously dumped
on the North American market in an grotesque edit that in no way reflected
Leone’s original hope or vision. Considering Evans’ recollections on how
Coppola came to be cast as ‘his second’, it is interesting to note
Paramount continued to shop around the directorial duties on The Godfather
to practically every headlining director of his generation, including Peter
Bogdanovich, Peter Yates, Richard Brooks, Arthur Penn, Costa-Gavras, and Otto
Preminger. In the meantime, Coppola was belaboring his decision to return to
Hollywood. He had gone to San Francisco with dreams to establish his own
film-making paradise away from the crumbling empires of Tinsel Town.
Regrettably, American Zoetrope was foundering badly. Coppola’s cohorts,
particularly George Lucas, lent their support to his accepting the ‘Paramount
assignment’, although merely as a means to pull their beleaguered fledgling out
of the red.
Coppola, who admittedly did not
care for the subject matter at first, and conceded he did not get all the way
through Puzo’s novel before saying ‘yes’ to The Godfather, nevertheless
dove headstrong and heart-first into the project, agreeing to $125,000 and 6%
of the gross as his recompense. Known for his due diligence in staying within
the budgetary parameters outlined by the studio, Coppola seemed a very
competent choice. However, it did not take very long for the executive brain
trust to rumble with hints of misgiving. Part of the issue was Paramount had
not had a major hit in a very long while. Worse, they had all but drained their
coffers on a series of expensive flops; the leaden musical, Paint Your Wagon
(1969), bungled WWI/spy movie, Darling Lili (1970) and Dino De
Laurentiis’ costly bellyflop, Waterloo (1970) among them. Originally
budgeted at $2.5 million, Coppola quickly realized The Godfather could
not be made to his specifications without a considerable increase. The studio’s
original plan – to shoot on a shoestring in modern-day Kansas City, with
interiors lensed under a controlled environment on the Paramount backlot – were
eventually vetoed by Coppola, who insisted the novel’s runaway success
warranted further consideration, particularly, an adherence to the original
1940’s and early 50’s milieu. Then, as now, shooting ‘in period’ adds
not only cache but sizable girth to a film’s budget. Paramount begrudgingly
agreed to allow Coppola his extensive shoot in New York and Sicily, upping the
ante by $6 million.
The first battle won, almost
immediately Coppola’s preliminary search for the perfect cast fell under the scrutiny
of Robert Evans and Gulf + Western’s exec’, Charles Bluhdorn, who could only
see how the director’s ‘indecisiveness’ was costing the already cash-strapped
studio more than $40,000 a day above beyond the allotted budget. Paramount’s
VP, Jack Ballard, agreed to keep a watchful eye on Coppola’s development. It is
rumored, Ballard urged his director to consider a ‘big name’ above the title,
and even suggested fair-haired Ryan O’Neal for the coveted part of the
Corleone’s number one son, Michael. However, Coppola was rather determined the
part should instead go to olive-skinned, dark-haired Italian, Al Pacino (a
virtual unknown). To elevate the film’s star-power, Coppola had another actor
in mind – one, equally as unpopular. From the outset, Coppola had hoped Marlon
Brando would accept the part of Don Vito Corleone, the imposing patriarch of
this crime family. Puzo had confided that in writing the novel he too had used
Brando as his template. Robert Evans echoed Coppola’s sentiments, even
suggesting he had been first to consider Brando for the part. And while Brando
expressed a most enthusiastic interest to partake, just as quickly Coppola was
informed by Ballard, Brando would never set foot on the Paramount lot ever
again.
Since 1962’s Mutiny on the
Bounty – the landmark release that nearly sank MGM – wild speculations had
dogged Brando’s reputation. An article published in The Saturday Evening
Post shortly thereafter had ‘Bounty’s’ director, Lewis
Milestone vehemently chastising Brando, adding MGM’s mismanagement “deserves
what they get when they give a ham actor, a petulant child, complete control
over an expensive picture.” For the rest of the decade, Brando would
concurrently be accused in the press of selling out in subpar movies or not
performing up to expectations in others worthy of his time and talents. His
decision to sign a 5-picture deal at Universal quickly soured and virtually all
five movies made for that studio failed to perform at the box office. The
critics savaged his reputation, suggesting the one-time rebellious stud of such
iconic fodder as A Streetcar Named Desire (1951) and The Wild Ones
(1953) had inexplicably morphed into an idiotic buffoon and spoiled caricature
of his former self. Perhaps, not altogether free of these criticisms, there is
little to deny Brando remained as hard-working as any actor throughout the
1960’s, arguably, never intentionally sabotaging a production solely on the
basis of satisfying his ego.
Nevertheless, by 1970 the
unflattering ‘un-bankable’ moniker had stuck to Brando’s reputation. Now, the
same clout that had afforded Evans the right to turn The Godfather into
a prestige picture, was decidedly working against Coppola’s fervent desire to
cast Brando in this pivotal lead. Previously considered actors, like Ernest
Borgnine, Frank de Kova, John Marley (eventually cast as movie producer, Woltz
in the picture) and Richard Conte (hired to portray the beady-eyed and lethal,
Don Barzini), paled to Brando’s raw magnetism and marquee-drawing power.
Producer, Albert S. Ruddy conceded Brando was the real deal and essential
lynchpin for the picture’s success. But Brando, who had made rather a bad enemy
of Paramount’s Executive VP, Stanley Jaffe after the release of 1961’s One-Eyed
Jacks seemed dead in the water after Jaffe reportedly told Coppola, “As
long as I'm president of this studio, Marlon Brando will not be in this
picture, and I will no longer allow you to discuss it.” Mercilessly,
Coppola persisted. Jaffe eventually relented, but set three rather humiliating
conditions, in hindsight, probably meant to discourage Brando’s participation.
First, Brando would have to do the picture for $50,000 – an embarrassingly low
fee for his services. Second, Brando had to sign a contract stipulating any
cost overruns incurred from his delays would be covered by him personally.
Third, Brando would submit to a screen test to convince the studio he could
carry the part.
Coppola attempted to soften this
latter blow by suggesting the ‘test’ was for makeup rather than to prove
Brando’s acting ability to the studio bosses. Brando, appearing in makeup he
conceived for himself, stuffing cotton balls in his mouth to puff out his
cheeks, was a knock-out. Utterly
impressed by the actor’s transformation, Charles Bluhdorn agreed to hire Brando
as Don Vito Corleone, adding a caveat of 1% of the gross on a sliding scale to
the actor’s deal for each $10 million over $10 million, or up to 5% if the
movie exceeded $60 million – a profit margin no one could have expected the
movie to surpass. The deal ought to have made Brando a very rich man, except
Brando, already in desperate need of funds, prematurely sold back his points to
Paramount for an estimated $100,000, kicking himself in the pants when The
Godfather grossed $85.7 million on its initial release, by some
conservative estimates, screwing Brando out of an $11 million dollar profit. “The
Godfather was a very unappreciated movie when we were making it,” Coppola
would later admit, “The studio was very unhappy with it. They didn't like
the cast. They didn't like the way I was shooting it. I was always on the verge
of getting fired.”
Coppola’s one ally throughout the
shoot was Brando, who steadfastly threatened to walk off the picture should
Coppola be unceremoniously terminated - a not altogether unlikely prospect. On
his best behavior throughout filming, Brando also served as something of the
head of an impressive array of up-and-coming talent, including Pacino, Robert
Duvall, James Caan and Diane Keaton, all readily in awe to be working in such
esteemed company. Still, as the daily rushes were being screened back at
Paramount, the execs began to grumble The Godfather lacked both the
impetus and violence readers of the novel would be expecting. Coppola’s take on
the tale was too subdued, too Italian perhaps, for their tastes. Unable to see
the merit in his vision, rumors abounded the studio was preparing to replace
Coppola with ‘another’ director. But Coppola’s reprieve would come when
executives screened the now infamous cop-killing scene in which Michael
unexpectedly assassinates corrupt Capt. McCluskey (Sterling Hayden) and his
crime syndicate mouthpiece, Virgil Sollozzo (Al Lettieri), thereby setting his
feet upon a lifelong path of self-destruction only partially born out in the
first film. It must be said the sequence, apart from its potency in the first
movie, set a new standard for screen violence, in the process, creating the
prototype all future mob movies would follow. The ghastliness of seeing the
back of a man’s head blown apart by a gunshot, ratcheted up in The Godfather’s
other outstanding shocker - Sonny Corleone’s (James Caan) horrifically
cold-blooded assassination at the toll booth. This remains a veritable
blood-bath with Caan’s body riddled by rigged explosive squibs. Whether or not
Coppola resented being forced to add such graphic vignettes to his familial
saga is unclear. What is for certain is Coppola was intimidated by the studio’s
decision to hire a ‘violence coach’ to augment his work should he be unwilling
to comply with their edicts on his own.
In some ways, The Godfather:
Part II (1974) is a much more immersive contemplation on themes of familial
succession and self-destruction Coppola had hoped to investigate more deeply in
the original movie. The pacing of the sequel is decidedly different, more
methodical and more subtly engrossed in the finer nuances of a man’s slow and
self-inflicting tragic demise. The outbursts of violence are less gratuitous,
though no less powerful in expressing the thematic implosion of a dream and
waning modicum of self-preservation. The parallel cutting between two stories
in this sequel – following young Vito’s (Robert DeNiro) rise to power as the
unlikely head of a crime syndicate and Michael’s own hegemony of the so called
‘five families’, reluctantly forced to step into the Don’s shoes – makes for a
startling contrast between a perhaps good man’s descent into purgatory, coming
to know the ominous strength and purpose of his darkly purposed
convictions. Both men become Don
Corleone out of necessity. Yet, unlike his father, Michael is never comfortable
in the role. Indeed, Vito’s sanctioning of ‘justice’ by satisfying ‘requests’
is viewed with nonchalance. By contrast, while Michael steadily professes “it’s
not personal…it’s just business”, his reign is increasingly marked – and
marred – by selfish motives, to assert and cement his authority in the
underworld hierarchy not yet accustomed to his potential might to be taken seriously. In the sequel, Michael aligns his interests
with Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg) a dying puppet master who nevertheless, derives
a certain unquestionable autonomy from the same generational wellspring as his
late father.
Late in The Godfather: Part II,
Michael counsels his mother (Morgana King) about his presumed failings to the
family, a good husband to his wife, Kay and loving father to his children,
expressing the belief he has gradually allowed himself to become un-tethered
from his roots, to which she assuredly replies, “You can never lose your
family.” But what Michael is perhaps expressing is an acknowledgement he
has already lost ‘control’ of the variables that once made up their
tightly-knit solidarity. And, indeed, The Godfather: Part II remains a
story about losing one’s way, of fate’s chronic intervention to deprive Michael
of that ‘other’ life he would have chosen for himself and – manipulating others
to preserve the myth of his family as a never-changing united front. This
absence of legacy wounds Michael’s confidence – though hardly his entrenched
resolve – throughout this second pivotal chapter in the Corleone family saga.
Michael’s purpose is flawed and gauche; desperate, even, as he chooses murder
rather than exile to resolve a misguided betrayal from a disloyal, though
decidedly easily swayed/simpleton elder brother, Fredo (John Cazale). We get a
sense of this looming cruelty as Michael quietly threatens to disinherit his
sister, Connie (Talia Shire) if she marries Merle Johnson (Troy Donahue) -
clearly a fortune hunter – having already ordered the hit on her first husband,
Carlo (Gianni Russo) to satisfy a vendetta for Sonny’s murder.
In the original Godfather,
Coppola makes a startling jump cut to illustrate Michael Corleone’s fall from
decorated and clean-cut war hero to cold-blooded assassin - the latest
‘recruit’ in the Corleone dynasty and, in fact, Vito’s last hope for a
legitimate heir. Alas, the death of Michael’s beloved first wife, Apollonia
(Simonetta Stefanelli) from a car bomb in Sicily meant for him, is immediately
followed by Michael’s reappearance in a suburb of New York, confronting former
flame and the future Mrs. Corleone – Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) after an absence
of almost a year. The cruelty inflicted from these losses has already hardened
Michael’s heart and turned his tenacity to crime. More than ever, he is the Don
in training, and swift to take his place as the avenging dark angel of the
family. And Pacino delivers with a riveting transformation, from the naïve
Lochinvar of only a few scenes before to this beady-eyed boss, the pierced look
of veiled regrets having mutated into a subtext of contained homicidal rage,
glimpsed in brief fitful outbursts, more readily expressed as an intrinsic part
of his DNA in the last installment to the franchise: The Godfather: Part III
(1990).
After a riveting preamble in which
Bonasera (Salvatore Corsitto), a grieving father pleads with Don Corleone
(Marlon Brando) to avenge the brutal beating of his daughter by her boyfriend
and his friends, The Godfather opens on the occasion of Vito’s daughter,
Connie’s wedding, spectacularly staged on the grounds of the Corleone compound,
yet marred by the presence of FBI agents jotting down various license plates of
party guests to run their background checks. These ebullient snapshots from a
sun-filtered afternoon are intercut with the Don entertaining various requests
in his cloistered study. It is an old Sicilian custom. We are introduced to the
rest of the Corleone clan. Sonny and Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) – a onetime
urchin the Don took in and reared as his own. Having completed his law degree,
Tom now acts as consigliere, an exalted position. We also meet various members
of the Don’s inner circle, his lieutenant, Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano),
hitman, Luca Brazi (Lenny Montana), devoted thug muscle come to pay his
respects, and, the Corleone’s driver, Paulie Gatto (John Martino in a part
originally intended for Robert DeNiro, who actually screen tested for the
role). Also in attendance is rival mob boss, Don Barzini (Richard Conte),
Tessio (Abe Vigoda), and the Don’s bodyguard, Al Neri (Richard Bright).
The sudden arrival of
bobbysoxer-heartthrob, and the Don’s godson, singer, Johnny Fontaine (Al
Martino) creates a minor stir. Reportedly, Frank Sinatra not at all pleased
with the transparent parallels between him and the fictional Fontaine, rumored
to have made several veiled attempts through third parties to have this
depiction removed from the film. As an interesting side note, Al Martino, then
a popular nightclub singer, was initially given the part of Johnny Fontaine at
the behest of his agent, Al Ruddy. However, when Coppola came to the project,
he replaced Martino with singer, Vic Damone. And here is where the waters
between truth and fiction become spookily muddied. Having accepted, Damone inexplicably
dropped out, citing the part as too small and anti-Italian. But perhaps
Martino’s reinstatement had more to do with his contacting Russell A. Bufalino,
a well-known crime boss who also happened to be Martino’s godfather. Whatever the case, Martino was in and Damone
out.
While Sonny’s wife, Sandra (Julie
Gregg) is busy extolling the virtues of her husband’s sexual prowess to some of
her girlfriends, Sonny is off seducing a bridesmaid, Lucy Mancini (Jeannie
Linero). Meanwhile, the Corleone’s youngest son, Michael, arrives with his
girlfriend, Kay Adams. Michael is the pride of the family, a decorated war
hero, newly discharged from the army. Michael explains to Kay that although his
family is involved in organized crime, he has remained apart from any
involvement in these greyer areas of ‘the family business.’ Meanwhile, in the Don’s study, Johnny Fontaine
implores his godfather to ‘convince’ Hollywood mogul, Jack Woltz (John Marley)
to give him a career-defining part in his next movie. The Don sends Tom Hagen
to make Woltz ‘an offer he can’t refuse’. And while Woltz initially
seems receptive to at least listening to this proposal, he suddenly becomes
volatile, ordering Tom from his mansion and flat out refusing to grant his
request. This leads to the first iconic moment in The Godfather; Woltz,
awakening in his Beverly Hills’ mansion the next morning to the grisly
discovery of the severed head of his prized stallion lying between blood-soaked
bed sheets. The head was real, bought by Coppola’s property master from a local
dog food manufacturer who would have discarded it anyway.
We jump ahead to Christmas 1945.
Backed by the Tattaglia crime syndicate, Virgil ‘the Turk’ Sollozzo
makes his pitch to the Don to invest in his narcotics business, suggesting the
Don might offer him protection via his political and police connections.
Concerned his high-profile contacts will frown upon such a venture, Don
Corleone declines, telling Sollozzo he will remain neutral. Suspicious, the Don
sends Luca Brasi to cautiously observe. Sollozzo, under Bruno Tattaglia’s (Tony
Giorgio) watchful eye, makes Luca a faux offer to leave the Corleone family and
join them. Believing he will be able to keep closer tabs on the Tattaglias from
within their organization, Luca falls for their trap by accepting the offer and
is garroted, his bullet-proof vest sent to the Corleone home with a dead
mackerel wrapped inside. It is an old Sicilian message to mark a murder. Luca
Brasi sleeps with the fishes. In the meantime, an attempt is made on the Don –
shot six times in the back while shopping a street vendor for fruit. Tom Hagen
is kidnapped by Sollozzo and ordered to ‘make the peace’ with Sonny over the
drug deal.
Wisely assuming Paulie’s
conspicuous absence at the time of the Don’s shooting means he was likely
‘encouraged’ by the other side (as chauffeur, Paulie would have been expected
to defend the Don), Sonny orders a hit. Clemenza and Rocco drive with Paulie to
a remote location under a false pretext before shooting him in the back of the
head. Making an impromptu visit to the
hospital, Michael discovers someone has ordered all his father’s bodyguards to
stand down. The corridors have also been emptied of any hospital personnel,
save one nurse whom Michael pleads to help him relocate his father’s bed to
another room as Sollozzo is sending henchmen to finish the job. Michael’s clash
with corrupt Police Captain McKluskey, also on Sollozzo’s payroll and chiefly
responsible for removing the Don’s protection, results in a broken jaw and
Michael’s pivotal decision to enter ‘the family business’ in the worst of all
possible ways. He avenges his disgrace as well as the attempt on his father’s
life by publicly gunning down McKluskey and Sollozzo in cold blood. Exiled to
Sicily, Michael is placed under the care of loyal family friend, Don Tomassino
(Corrado Gaipa) who periodically keeps him informed of developments in America.
Michael also meets Apollonia, the daughter of a local restauranteur. Their
carefully observed courtship blossoms into romance and the two are eventually
wed. Alas, bliss is short-lived. Word arrives from America, Sonny has been
assassinated after flying off the handle in Connie’s defense as Carlo has
severely beaten his pregnant wife and, on Tattaglia’s payroll is also the
informer who set up Sonny’s ambush at the toll booth. Not long thereafter, Don
Tomassino suggests to Michael it is not safe for him to remain in Sicily -
prophetic words, as a car bomb, meant for Michael, kills Apollonia instead.
We jump cut a year into the future.
Michael returns home to pursue Kay as his wife. She is reluctant, though
nevertheless willing. Michael now unleashes an ambitious campaign to move the
Corleone’s crime syndicate west to Nevada, tempting high roller, Moe Greene
(Alex Rocco) with a buy out. Greene, however, is incensed he should give up one
of the most lucrative gambling houses in Vegas simply to satisfy his partner.
After the Don passes away from natural causes, Michael learns of Tessio and
Carlo’s involvement with Barzini and the Tattaglias; ordering a murderous
vengeance on all five families and Moe Greene. In the ensuing bloodbath,
Michael is the only one left standing, confronting Carlo last of all.
Pretending to have decided on his exile as punishment, Michael hands Carlo a
plane ticket and orders him to leave for the airport at once. Yet, only a few
paces out of the Corleone compound, Carlo is garroted by Clemenza. Connie,
arrives as Michael and Kay are moving in to his father’s home, bitterly confronting
her brother about the murder. Michael lies to Kay about his involvement. She
naively believes him, but begins to suspect her marriage has been made with the
devil as Michael entertains his late father’s loyal contacts, referring to him
now as ‘Don Corleone.’
As The Godfather advanced
toward its general release date, Paramount received veiled threats from several
mob bosses regarding the use of the words, ‘mafia’ and ‘Cosa Nostra’
– neither appearing in the original Godfather’s dialogue, though each
prominently featured in The Godfather Part II, during Michael’s
interrogation by the Senate Committee investigating organized crime. Indeed,
the Italian-American Civil Rights League had its own misgivings about various
aspects in the original script, gravely concerned it glorified stereotypes and
whitewashed all Italians in an unflattering light. Underestimating Coppola’s
resolve and purpose, not only to make a good picture, but also to honor his
Italian-American ancestry with faithful depictions, Coppola worked diligently
and in close collaboration with cinematographer, Gordon Willis on establishing
the sepia and Kodachrome look of The Godfather, bathed in brassy copper
hues for the exteriors, and saturated in oppressively dark shadows for its
interiors. Coppola applied ‘old school’ principles in shooting the film. No
zoom lenses or clever aerial photography, but expertly composed master shots
with as much attention paid to detail in the backgrounds as to what was
happening in the foreground. During post-production, Coppola made the
fortuitous decision to hire Nino Rota to compose the underscore, a veritable
potpourri of since iconic themes, almost disregarded wholesale by Robert Evans
as being ‘too highbrow’, but rescued by Coppola’s own last-minute stubbornness.
For some time thereafter, The Godfather Waltz became a very popular
selection to introduce all fathers of the bride at weddings.
Coppola’s last minute fine touches
and tinkering cost The Godfather its planned Christmas release, the
picture debuting the following March to almost unanimous acclaim and record box
office. In its initial release, The Godfather earned $81.5 million in
North America alone, displacing the all-time record holder, Gone With The
Wind (1939) - a hallowed position briefly held until the release of Jaws
(1975). Nominated for 7 Golden Globes and 11 Academy Awards (and winning 5 and
3 respectively, including Globes and Oscars for Best Director and Best
Picture), it was inevitable Paramount would order up a sequel. Coppola’s place
in the cinema firmament – precarious a few scant years before by a few abysmal
misfires – had suddenly, and justly, been secured for the ages. Already
immersed in the material, Coppola brought Mario Puzo back to co-author The
Godfather Part II (1974) – both a sequel and prequel to his original movie.
In splitting the narrative into flashback and a continuing saga picking up
where the first film ended, Part II evolved the conventional ideas about parallel cutting to re-establish the cinema language –
drawing narrative parallels between young Vito Corleone (now played by Robert DeNiro) and
his son, Michael assuming control of the family business, only to rule it with
an iron fist. Coppolla’s original desire to bring back Brando to reprise his
role in flashbacks was quashed by Robert Evans. So, Coppola ingeniously staged
an off-camera birthday surprise for the Don without Brando’s participation.
Today, many forget that this sequel
was the first of its kind to use ‘Part II’ in its title; Paramount’s
initial apprehensions unfounded when the second movie proved just as popular
with audiences as the original. However, it might have gone the other way. Al
Pacino almost did not sign on to this continuation of the Corleone family saga.
Coppola re-polished the script to satisfy the actor’s needs and flesh out his
role. But a sneak peek of Coppola’s ‘final’ edit left a select gathering of
critics cold, the crosscutting of parallel narratives considered choppy, with
not enough time to flesh out characters. As a result, the picture grew longer,
at 175 minutes, complete with intermission, one of the last ‘road show’ events.
Undaunted, Coppola returned to his editing room, combining several flashbacks
together with less back and forth between the past and present. Regardless of
how one feels about sequels today, it is nevertheless true The Godfather
Part II ushered in the era of big studio-committed franchise film-making
that has all but taken over – and sadly - bastardized the industry’s collective
output today. Shooting at Lake Tahoe between October and June allowed Coppola
to run the gamut of seasons, adding more girth to the ‘period’ and passage of
time. The globe-trotting continued in Palermo, New York and Santa Domingo in
the Dominican Republic, the latter subbing in for Cuba which, owing to the
embargo, was decidedly off limits. The studio-domineering yolk loosened after
Coppola’s vision for the first movie proved a runaway success, Coppola
vacillated in his new-found autonomy and still working at a feverish pace, but
with a decidedly more leisurely approach to hand-crafting his material.
In retrospect, The Godfather
Part II is a much darker movie (figuratively speaking) than its predecessor.
It begins ominously with a funeral in Sicily set in 1901. Young Vito Andolini
(Oreste Baldini) and his mother (Maria Carta) follow his late father’s funerary
cortege through craggy terrain. Their mourning is interrupted by another
assassination - Vito’s elder brother, at the behest of local Mafia chieftain,
Don Ciccio (Giuseppe Sillato). Begging for Vito’s life, his mother momentarily
takes Ciccio hostage at knifepoint before being murdered in front of the boy
with a double-barreled shotgun by one of Ciccio’s henchmen. Miraculously, Vito
escapes the Don’s assassins and is sent to America, mistakenly registered by a
well-intended Ellis Island official as ‘Vito Corleone’. The Ellis Island
sequence is among the many tour de forces in the sequel, Coppola, particularly
tuned into the immigrant experience.
Perhaps desiring a counterpart to Connie’s wedding in the first movie,
Coppola cuts to 1958, the First Communion of Vito’s grandson, Anthony Michael
Corleone (James Gounaris), lavishly staged as an outdoor party at Lake Tahoe.
Like his father before him, Michael is entertaining various business ventures
on this otherwise festive afternoon, petitioning Senator Pat Geary (G.D.
Spradlin) for a gaming license to further dig into his holdings in Vegas.
Publicly, Geary cheerily professes his gratitude for the Corleone’s charitable
works. But privately, he attempts to squeeze Michael for some quick cash,
believing his political clout far outweighs any thug muscle Michael might
choose to exercise in order to enforce his will. Of course, the Senator is
mistaken, although it will be a while before he figures this out for himself.
In the meantime, Michael is visited by Corleone caporegime, Frank Pentangeli
(Michael V. Gazzo), who is bitterly disappointed Michael will not back him in
his dispute with the Rosato brothers over the Brooklyn territory.
Michael is faithful to Pentangeli –
a holdover from his father’s time. But his present business venture with the
supreme puppet master, Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg) precludes divulging the
particulars of his plan to his old friend just yet. Aside: Hyman Roth was
loosely based on real-life mobster, Meyer Lansky who, upon seeing the movie is
rumored to have telephone Strasberg to inquire, “Why couldn't you have made
me more sympathetic? After all, I am a grandfather.” One of the great
tragedies that befall Michael in this sequel is losing the trusted support of
Pentangeli, who cannot see the bigger picture and decides to betray Michael
after he erroneously assumes Michael is responsible for his botched
assassination. Immediately following the party, Michael and Kay narrowly
survive a bungled plot to murder them in their beds. Michael is incensed and
departs Nevada at once to unearth the truth, leaving Kay and his children
behind on the heavily guarded family compound. Before his departure, Michael
confides in Tom Hagen he will become the new Don for a time and oversee the
evolution of Michael’s grand plan while Michael keeps a very low profile.
We flashback to 1917, Vito (now
played by Robert DeNiro), working hard in the dried goods business for a local
merchant in New York (production designer, Dean Tavoularis’ immaculate
recreations of the dingy tenements of ‘little Italy’ superbly realized down to
the very last detail). Vito already has a wife, Carmela (Francesca De Sapio)
and infant son, Sonny. But he loses this job when his boss is forced to placate
Don Fanucci (Gaston Moschin) – a member of ‘The Black Hand’ by hiring his
grandson instead. Vito’s first brush with organized crime is anything but
brief. Concealing several guns wrapped in a blanket for his neighbor, Peter
Clemenza (Bruno Kirby), Vito is later invited by Clemenza to help him
burglarize a posh estate. The two men steal an oriental rug from the parlor and
narrowly avert discovery by a policeman casually walking the beat, momentarily
pausing to peer in through the window. Clemenza suggests a lucrative ‘black
market’ business, with Vito putting up the Genco Olive Oil Company as its
front.
In the present, Senator Geary is
framed for the murder of a paid escort he frequented at a brothel managed by
Fredo. Awakening from his drug-induced stupor to find the girl chained to his
bed, having hemorrhaged to death, presumably after a night of kinky sex, a
frantic Geary is comforted by Tom Hagen who, knowing what the scandal could do
to the Senator’s career, insists the incident will be managed by Michael in
exchanged for the Senator’s loyalty. Meanwhile, Michael suspects Hyman Roth as
the architect behind his botched assassination. Drawing on an old adage about
keeping one’s enemies at arm’s length, Michael, accompanied by Roth’s
protector, Johnny Ola (Dominic Chianese) enjoys Roth’s hospitality in Miami.
Each feigns ignorance about the other’s complicity in the incident. Roth
suggests Frank Pentangeli is responsible. Knowing this to be untrue, but
determined to maintain a successful façade, Michael confronts Pentangeli at
first. However, behind closed doors Michael reveals he knows there is a snitch
lurking somewhere very close, if as yet unknown to him. Once again, Michael
implores Pentangeli to pretend to make his peace with the Rosatos. Alas, Roth is two steps ahead of the game,
setting up an ambush for Pentangeli inside a local bar where the Rosatos,
Carmine (Carmine Caridi) and Tony (Danny Aiello), are waiting to garrote him
with piano wire, planting the notion it was Michael who has betrayed him. The murder
sabotaged by a cop just passing by while the crime is taking place, Pentangeli
survives, but fearful of reprisals and not knowing who to trust, turns state’s
evidence on Michael to save his own skin.
Meanwhile, Michael travels to
Havana with Geary, Fredo and Roth to ring in the New Year and negotiate their
mutual ‘business’ interests with Fulgencio Batista’s (Tito Alba) government.
Before attending the lavish state dinner, Fredo takes the men (all except Roth,
who is gravely ill, and Johnny Ola, electing to remain at his side) slumming
inside some of Cuba’s seedier nightclubs, one where a simulated sex act is
performed by a freak of nature with a rather grotesque endowment. When Geary
laughingly inquires how Fredo discovered this place, Fredo accidentally lets it
slip he has known Johnny Ola long before their presumed first meeting only a
few days earlier. Michael sends his bodyguard to Roth’s penthouse to kill both men.
Alas, the unnamed assassin is only successful at Ola’s murder before paramedics
burst in to the penthouse, presumably telephoned by Roth, who is ailing. The
assassin follows Roth to the local hospital, but is killed by police after
attempting to smother Roth in his hospital bed. As midnight approaches, Batista’s
government is overrun by Castro’s rebel forces. He abdicates and urges all his
guests to make haste to the docks to escape the city as his forces can no
longer guarantee their safety. Amidst the chaos, Michael and Fredo are
separated, but not before Michael makes Fredo aware he knows he is the one who
betrayed him.
Back in Nevada, Michael learns from
Tom that Kay, pregnant with their third child shortly before he left for Cuba,
has since ‘miscarried’. The news is devastating. Even more so is Fredo’s
confession to Michael, that he took Johnny Ola’s side to become his own man
rather than remain a ward of Michael’s charity. Michael cruelly exiles Fredo
from the family. Behind closed doors, Michael instructs Al Neri that Fredo is
to remain untouched until after their mother has died. Not long thereafter, Kay
tells Michael she is leaving him for good. At first, Michael believes Kay is
merely bluffing. But then she confesses to the ultimate betrayal, having
deliberately aborted Michael’s son to avoid continuing the Corleone family
bloodline. Michael has Kay declared an unfit mother and legally separated from
her children. Connie is sympathetic, allowing Kay regular visits to the
compound when Michael is not around. However, when Michael learns of this, he
promptly ambushes Kay during one of her visits. She will not see young Anthony
or Mary again.
In flashback, we find Vito and
Carmela with two more sons, Fredo and Michael, now living comfortably, thanks
to Vito and Clemenza’s lucrative business peddling stolen goods on the black
market. Learning of their enterprise, Fanucci attempts blackmail. Vito suggests
to both Clemenza and their other ‘business’ partner, Salvatore Tessio (John
Aprea) Fanucci will settle for far less of a payment than he has initially
proposed. Bewildered, Tessio and Clemenza leave the decision-making to Vito.
Instead, Vito stalks Fanucci through the streets of Little Italy during a noisy
neighborhood festa, cold-bloodedly gunning him down in the hallway of his
apartment before disposing of the pieces of the murder weapon down several
rooftop chimneys. At this juncture, Coppola breaks for an intermission. When
next the story commences, we are once more in the present – this time, in
Washington D.C. at the senate committee hearing on organized crime where
several witnesses testify to Michael’s reign as ‘the godfather’. However, the
FBI’s linchpin is Frank Pentangeli. Too late, Frank finds Michael has brought
over Pentangeli’s brother from Palermo to witness the trial. Fearful Michael
will not hesitate to exact revenge on his brother in his stead Pentangeli
rescinds his sworn statements, claiming he was bullied by the FBI. Realizing he
has painted himself into an impossible corner – no longer Michael’s confidante and
likely to be ousted from the Witness Protection Program – Pentangeli takes his
own life by slashing his wrists in the bathtub.
In flashback, Vito visits Sicily
for the first time since emigrating. He and Don Tommasino (Mario Cotonne) are
admitted into Don Ciccio’s compound, ostensibly to ask for Ciccio's blessing on
their olive oil business. Instead, Vito gets close enough to exact his
childhood vengeance by gutting Ciccio with a knife. In their daring escape, Don
Tommasino is shot and paralyzed. The last act of The Godfather Part II
escalates the liquidity and frequency between these flashbacks. Upon the death
of their beloved mother, Connie encourages reconciliation between Fredo and
Michael. Ostensibly, Michael takes this to heart, allowing Fredo to come live
at the Nevada compound and be a devoted uncle to his son, Anthony. Alas, this
too is a subterfuge, Michael ordering Al Neri to assassinate Fredo while the
two are fishing out on the lake. Meanwhile Roth, who realizes he is a dead man,
is refused political asylum in Israel, soon to be publicly executed at the
airport by Michael’s other caporegime, Rocco Lampone as stunned members of the
press look on – a sequence vaguely reminiscent of the brutal public execution
of presumed Kennedy assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald. While The Godfather Part II reports to
be based on incidents derived from Mario Puzo’s original novel, only the
flashbacks bear a marginal resemblance to passages from the book, the bulk of
the story re-imagined from scratch by Coppola, once again collaborating with
Puzo.
The last moments of The
Godfather Part II are devoted to Michael’s conflicted reminiscences of the
life he has squandered – a reflection with a sting in its tail and an
overriding Shakespearean sense of a man having completely lost his soul. This
begins with the final flashback, young Michael’s decision, made shortly before
Vito’s surprise birthday party, to enlist in the army after the Japanese attack
on Pearl Harbor. Sonny is furious. Connie and Tom spare the brothers from a
physical altercation as everyone hurrying into the next room to meet the
returning patriarch with a cake and their ebullient good wishes. Coppola had
intended this to be a more detailed sequence with Brando brought in for a day’s
shoot to complete the scene. Regrettably, Paramount refused to hire Brando
back, forcing Coppola to re-stage the moment in the actor’s absence.
Interestingly, the scene is more ominously heartbreaking as we hear the
off-camera cheers of ‘surprise!’ while, in the foreground, a forlorn Michael
sits alone. This moment is paralleled in the next dissolve to Michael, now
isolated on the Nevada compound, staring blankly off into the distance. Are his final thoughts about what he has done
to his father’s legacy, of the breadth of realization he has murdered his father’s
son, or regrets over his own complete inability to keep the family together and
free from the devastating effects of the outside world? Coppola leaves us
guessing, as does Al Pacino’s haunted, far away, and, dreadfully vacant gaze.
The Godfather
Part II is an infinitely more complex and masterfully put together reminiscence,
like a bad dream or haunted nightmare, with Michael doomed to revisit the self-inflicted
cruelties derived from a life of crime. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and
Sciences bestowed more little gold statues on the sequel, including another for
Coppola and Best Picture. Many of the
scenarios developed for Part II were, in fact, augmented by unused bits
ported over from Puzo’s original novel. Apart from Brando’s absence, the entire
cast is reunited – a near unheard of accomplishment and major coup for Coppola
who, only two years before had had to beg Paramount executives for every
casting decision made. Reportedly, after screening Coppola’s 5-hour rough cut
of The Godfather Part II, fellow film maker, George Lucas told his
friend, “You have two films. Take one away.” Instead, Coppola chose to
rework both as a two-sided parable continuing the arc of familial succession
begun in the original movie.
Interestingly, Paramount did not
immediately chomp at the bit to produce yet another sequel, perhaps, in part,
because Coppola had made it very clear he was decidedly finished with the
Corleones – at least, for the moment – and would not be returning to the fray,
should the studio so desire to continue the franchise. In hindsight, it was the right decision, one
marginally marred by Coppola’s reversal in 1990 to reconsider what a decade of
marginal hits like Peggy Sue Got Married, and colossal box office flops,
One from the Heart (1981) and The Cotton Club (1984, butchered in
the editing process to transform what ought to have been a musical homage to
the famed New York landmark into a disjointed melodrama), had done to his
reputation as a film maker. Indeed, Coppola increasingly was feeling his
strengths as a producer over directing and perhaps, still in partial recovery
from the insane production shoot in Vietnam on his opus magnum anti-war epic, Apocalypse
Now (1979): a movie, threatening to drive everyone to the brink of insanity
via Brando’s chronic delays, it drained United Artist’s coffers to the point of
foreclosure, and, resulted in Coppola’s star, Martin Sheen, suffering a
near-fatal heart attack while on location.
Whatever the reasons, Coppola did
not return to the mob milieu until 1990, prompted by inquiries from fans and
Paramount – both of whom considered the Corleone family saga as yet incomplete.
However, upon its release, The Godfather Part III was generally
eviscerated by the critics and dismissed by its most ardent following, some of
their criticisms not entirely unwarranted. Indeed, in reviewing the picture
again some thirty years after its debut, and, even more so, when watching all
three movies as a mob movie marathon, one is immediately struck by Coppola’s
copycatting, almost verbatim, pilfering at least two pivotal moments from his
first two movies, wholesale cuts borrowed to augment this final installment.
The first is the death of Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna), set up during a festa not
unlike Fanucci’s murder in Part II, although, this time, publicly executed
by Corleone button-man, Lou Pennino (Robert Cicchini) and Vincent Mancini (Andy
Garcia), the latter, masquerading as a cop. The climax from the first movie
(the operatically staged assassinations of the heads of the five families) gets
ever so slightly re-orchestrated by Coppola for Part III, escalating
from the poisoning of an old family friend come turncoat, Don Altobello (Eli
Wallach), to the assassination of the Vatican’s corrupt Archbishop Gilday
(Donal Donnelly), poisoning of Cardinal Lamberto (Raf Vallone) – an honest man
– shortly after he has ascended as Pope, the murder of International
Immobilare’s chief executive banking officer, Don Licio Lucchesi (Enzo
Robutti), and, most startling of all, the unanticipated death of Michael’s adult
daughter, Mary (Sophia Coppola), shot through the chest by an assassin’s bullet
meant for Michael on the steps of the opera house.
Once again co-authored by Mario
Puzo and Coppola, The Godfather Part III’s chief inspiration is drawn
from two actual events: 1978’s mysterious death of Pope John Paul I and the
Papal banking scandal that rocked the Vatican from 1981 to 1982. Thinly veiled
in the movie, each is directly linked to Michael’s failed endeavors to
legitimize the Corleone family business. Too little/too late, it seems, as
Michael has already lost his former wife, Kay to a new love and created a near
irreparable rift in his relationship with their son, Anthony (Franc D'Ambrosio)
whom Michael has been pushing toward a law degree even as the young man’s first
love is to become a famous opera star. Filled with stories of his father’s
cruelties and corruption – including prior knowledge of Michael having
orchestrated Fredo’s murder – Anthony’s much beloved uncle – Anthony bitterly
resents his father’s involvement in Mary’s life. Indeed, Michael has made her
the cornerstone of his legitimate business ventures - chairwoman of the
Corleone Foundation, raising money for the beleaguered in Sicily. Anthony
assumes the charity is just another front, but actually, in this regard Michael
is most sincere. Moreover, he is ill with diabetes and desperately hoping for
peace – not only in his old age, but to settle the tumult within his own
family.
The bulk of Part III’s
backstory reaches a quirky and awkward impasse with Mary’s growing romantic
infatuation for her first cousin, Vincent Mancini, Sonny’s adult love child
sired with Lucy (Jeannie Linero) in the first movie. The movie attempts to make
‘another’ Sonny of Garcia’s performance – a flawed endeavor since Garcia is
increasingly uncomfortable and looking stiff, even as he adds to his tough guy
chops a fitful streak of psychotic rage directed at the bad guys. Michael
forewarns Mary, no good can come of her love for Vincent. He all but threatens
Vincent should he pursue even the slightest hint of a romantic relationship. Part
III is also hampered by the never explained absence of Robert Duvall –
replaced by the ineffectual, if every polished and tanned George Hamilton, as
the Corleone family’s attorney, B. J. Harrison. Yet, there is a lethal
interjection of new faces into this established cast, none to create indelible
impressions or fit neatly into the narrative trajectory.
The first narrative artery pursued
in The Godfather: Part III is Vincent’s blood feud with Joey Zasa. The
two are marginally antagonistic from the start with Vincent biting off a chunk
of Zasa’s ear in Michael’s study after Joey agrees to a truce, while referring
to Vincent as a ‘bastardo’. Kay’s arrival this same afternoon is purely
mercenary. Having divorced Michael almost two decades earlier, she has come to
plead for Anthony’s freedom to follow his heart for a career in music, much
against Michael’s wishes. It really makes no difference. Anthony will not
comply, nor will he return to the family fold. He might, however, be willing to
accept his father should Michael show some respect for his dreams.
Begrudgingly, this Michael does. Kay, however, is unforgiving, calling the
church-sanctioned ceremony where Michael was made a Commander of the Order of
St. Sebastian, a sham and suggesting that ‘legitimized’ he is now even more
dangerous than ever, and truly the bane of her ‘dread’.
Vincent pleads with Michael to let
him have a crack at eliminating Zasa, who has since taken over the drug
distribution of the Corleone family business and turned Little Italy into a
needle-ridden slum. Troubled by Vincent's fiery disposition, but ultimately
impressed by his loyalty to the family, and at Connie’s behest, Michael agrees
to take Vincent under his wing. Michael's recent investment in International
Immobiliare, a real estate holding company with far-reaching assets, ensures
the Corleones are now its largest single shareholder. Michael makes a tender
offer to buy the Vatican’s 25%, thus giving him absolute control. However,
unbeknownst to his superiors, Archbishop Gilday, head of the Vatican Bank, has
accrued a massive $600 million debt. Michael offers to quietly expunge this
from the bookkeeping ledgers in exchange for the Vatican’s shares. After some
consternation, Immobiliare's New York Board of Directors approves the deal.
However, it must be ratified in Rome by Pope Paul VI, who is gravely ill.
Meanwhile, Don Altobello, Connie's godfather, informs Michael his old partners
want in on this new deal. While determined to keep Immobiliare untainted from
any direct connections to the mob, Michael offers to pay off his partners from
his own liquidated Las Vegas holdings. Realizing Zasa is working against him,
Michael excludes him from these generous reparations. Zasa storms out in a huff
with Altobello trailing behind, presumably, to broker favor and smooth over the
rough edges. But only a few moments later, the penthouse is sabotaged by
assassins raining down from a helicopter. With Al Neri’s help, Vincent manages
to save Michael from certain death. Virtually all the other mob bosses are
wiped out.
Sometime later, Neri informs
Michael the surviving bosses have all aligned with Zasa. However, realizing
Zasa lacks the cunning to pull off such a coup, Michael orders Vincent refrain
from murdering him just yet, hoping to gain more insight into where Don
Altobello fits in. The strain proves too great. Michael suffers a diabetic
stroke and is hospitalized. While he convalesces, Vincent takes matters into
his own hands, deriving great satisfaction from personally killing Zasa. He
also allows Mary to pursue him, the two eventually becoming romantically
involved. Partially recovered, Michael berates Vincent’s rashness. He also
challenges Connie’s authority to go over his head with Al Neri’s complicity. “Now
they’ll fear you,” she cruelly assesses, to which Michael glibly replies, “Maybe
they should fear you instead.” After Michael’s recovery, the Corleones
travel to Sicily for Anthony's operatic debut in Palermo at the Teatro Massimo.
Ensconced in Don Tommasino’s villa, Michael suspects a plot afoot. Partly to
gain the upper hand, but also to drive a wedge in Mary and Vincent’s
relationship, Michael sends Vincent on a knight’s errand to convince Altobello
he intends to leave the Corleone family.
Don Altobello introduces Vincent to
Don Licio Lucchesi, a shadowy political figure who also happens to be
Immobiliare's chairman. In the meantime, Michael discovers the Immobiliare deal
is an elaborate swindle orchestrated by Lucchesi, Archbishop Gilday, and the
Vatican’s accountant, Frederick Keinszig (Helmut Berger). To shore up his
confidences within the church, Michael visits Cardinal Lamberto, who is favored
to become the next Pope. Recognizing Lamberto as a true man of the cloth,
Michael acquiesces to his first confession in thirty years; suffering a
momentary breakdown, admitting he ordered his brother, Fredo’s murder. Lamberto
concurs with Michael’s self-assessment he has committed grave sins. And yet,
Lamberto suggests no man – not even Michael – is beyond redemption. Now,
Altobello hires Mosca (Mario Donatone), an aged hitman to stage Michael’s
brutal assassination at the opera house. Disguised as priests, Mosca and his
son murder Don Tommasino. Michael vows over his old friend's casket to sin no
more. Lamberto is elected as Pope. But his honorable intentions sound the death
knell to this plotter’s scheme in the Immobiliare deal. Michael designates
Vincent as the new Don, but only if Vincent agrees to end his dalliances with
Mary. Like Michael before him, Vincent is driven by power which supersedes his
love for Mary. He spurns her – gently – though nevertheless, cruelly.
What began as a pleasant evening at
the opera turns devastating and darkly purposed as Altobello and Michael’s
henchmen quietly clash behind closed doors. Mosca takes out Michael’s
protection, one armed guard at a time and ever-drawing nearer to Michael
himself while the performance is taking place. However, Vincent discovers
several of the garroted bodies and hurries to escort Michael from the theater.
Meanwhile, Connie watches with opera spectacles from her box at the opera as
Altobello consumes the poisoned cannoli she has personally prepared for him.
The old man quietly suffocates just as Anthony’s debut draws to a close. In
Rome, Don Tommasino’s bodyguard, Calò (Franco Citti) meets Don Lucchesi,
claiming to bear a message from Michael. As he pretends to whisper it in
Lucchesi’s ear, Calò instead stabs the wily fraud in the jugular with his own
glasses. Coppola now moves into his even more operatic grand finale of death;
Michael’s hired guns taking care of Gilday, shot, then, needlessly thrown off a
balcony at the Vatican. On the steps of the opera house, tragedy strikes closer
to home; Mosca, taking dead aim at Michael and getting off several rounds,
killing Al Neri and wounding Michael.
Vincent permanently removes the threat
by putting an expert marksman’s bullet between Mosca’s eyes. Only then does
Mary reveal to all she has been mortally stricken in the chest with a bullet
meant for Michael. As she suddenly slumps back, caught in Michael’s arms, the
realization of her lifeless body sends Michael into a fit of hysteria. If The
Godfather Part III has its own tour de force moment, it remains this
exquisite evocation of parental sacrifice, Coppola silencing Pacino’s erratic
screams of unholy grief with an overlay of Carmine Coppola’s tender underscore,
only revealing the brevity of Michael’s pain in a single gasp at the end,
resonated in reciprocated blank stares of disbelief from Kay and Vincent who
share in the loss. We fade to a scene on Don Tomassino’s property some years
into the future. Michael, now hunched, decrepit and having surrendered his will
to go on, clutches a rose, his mind turning toward a series of flashbacks dedicated
to all the woman his life of crime has betrayed, the montage culminating in his
own quiet collapse and death - the journey to ‘greatness denied’ having
concluded with a whimper, rather than a bang.
The Godfather
Part III is a movie that desperately wants to be considered the last word in the
Corleone family saga. Regrettably, its misfires are many and more than
occasionally distracting. Coppola’s family nepotism in casting daughter, Sophia
in the pivotal role of Mary Corleone, is a major stumbling block from which,
arguably, the picture never recovers. The younger Coppola is clearly out of her
depth, incapable of revealing genuine love or even masqueraded lust without a
sort of wretchedly awkward adolescence, neither heartfelt in its puppy-like
adoration of her elder cousin, nor competent to convince us she is anything but
casually impressed with this temperamental young Lochinvar who has supposedly
fired her heart. There is zero chemistry between Sophia Coppola and Andy
Garcia, the latter appearing more amused than interested in procuring ‘an
affair. Garcia’s antsy outbursts play strictly as shtick and occasionally for
laughs. Garcia lacks the unpredictability, if not the ruthlessness, of James
Caan’s Sonny, queerly aping the superficial mannerisms of his predecessor
without fully comprehending the motivations. As such, his playacting devolves
into pantomime. The elder statesmen of this ensemble, particularly Talia
Shire’s Connie and Diane Keaton’s Kay are relegated to bit parts at best, as
the whole enterprise is top-heavily situated on the Mary/Vincent romance.
Part of the success of the first
two Godfather movies is they rework the time-honored cliché of good vs.
evil in a decidedly off kilter way, told from the perspective of severely
flawed, but strangely empathetic criminals, more misunderstood than maniacal. Part
III is almost a subversion – or perhaps, perversion – of this once
refreshing and genuine revisionist’s take, Michael, desiring legitimacy at any
and all costs and pursuing it aggressively, hampered by the real ‘bad guys’ he
ironically considers himself to be operating apart from, despite the severity
of his own crimes against humanity and his complete betrayal of his father’s
legacy. Brando’s inquire from the original film, “You spend time with your
family? That’s good, because a man who doesn’t spend time with his family can
never be a real man.” Despite his determination to step in as the head of
the family, Michael’s entire reign as the Don, at least by his own father’s
precepts and definition, is an absolute failure.
Largely on the reputation of its
predecessors, The Godfather Part III grossed $136,766,062, a sizable hit
for Paramount. Yet artistically, the picture continues to lack Coppola’s total
investment to tell this new chapter by failing to break any new ground in the
process. Indeed, there are whole portions here that seem more re-purposed and
‘old hat’ and careworn, the creative ennui creeping in, perhaps, with an
understanding all this has been done before – and to far better effect elsewhere
in the franchise. Arguably, Coppola felt an obligation to revisit the same
material in a highly familiar way to reacquaint a new generation of film goers
with ‘the traditions’ of his mob movies. We must also consider what the
passage of time between Parts II and III had done to contemporary
film goer’s tastes – sixteen years: a lifetime in movie-land, the culture
having morphed beyond and away from the seventies’ low-budget verve for gritty
reality, into eighties superficial gloss. At least Part III is
immeasurably blessed to have Gordon Willis once more behind the camera as the
constant link between all three films – stylistically speaking.
And yet, it is Coppola’s
‘old-school’ staging techniques – responsible for some trend-setting
timelessness in the first two movies – that now, hermetically date Part III.
With so many of the principle cast from the first two Godfather's
already wearing toe tags, Part III also suffers from an infusion of too
many underdeveloped ‘new’ characters at odds or disconnected from these
returning veterans to the franchise. A good many of the new arrivals merely
float in and out of the story without establishing either motivations or making
any sort of genuine impact. Finally, there are the aforementioned copycat
moments - deliberate homage, inserted by Coppola to suggest some sublime and
inescapable symmetry to these tales? Or simply his cop out to resolve certain
complexities within the narrative storytelling? The jury remains out on this
matter, although it is highly unlikely a complete reprieve for this final
chapter in the Corleone family saga will ever be forthcoming. And let us lay to
rest the assumption Coppola somehow paid his restitution for Part III by re-envisioning
it as ‘Coda – The Death of Michael Corleone’.
In hindsight, The Godfather:
Part III just felt like a movie stitched together from compromises, with
scenes like Michael instructing Vincent to ‘never let anyone know what you're
thinking’ merely played in reverse, only now, ringing slightly tinny as
regurgitated cliché derived from better work done elsewhere in the franchise.
As a matter of record, in the original Godfather, Marlon Brando’s Vito gives
Vincent’s father, Sonny (James Caan), the same advice. Given the picture’s
premise, it was little wonder the Vatican flat out refused to allow Coppola to
shoot within its walls. However, The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael
Corleone is not so much a ‘different’ movie from the one I screened
Christmas Day, 1990, as it now appears to be a more formidable assemblage of
that pre-existing footage, ever so slightly trimmed, rearranged, and with a new
pro- and epilogue to compensate for the ‘rush job’ Coppola was committed to
under Paramount’s insistence to meet a deadline for a holiday premiere.
According to Coppola, the original ending had Michael and Kay reconciled after
the opera and a dissolve to a church service where an assassin guns down
Michael before getting shot; Michael, lying to Kay as he dies in her arms.
Coppola decided against this, but retained the assassin from the original
ending, re-orchestrating the attempt on Michael’s life so that he survives,
only to bear witness to the murder of his beloved daughter; an incident ripped
from sound designer, Richard Beggs own life. But that isn’t the way, Coda
ends either. No, just like the original The Godfather Coda now
holds an even more curious place in pop culture, concluding with Michael’s even
more ambiguous survival rather than his death from natural causes. In Coda’s
re-edit, we lose the entire beginning to the original Part III: so, no
flashback reminder for the audience to a younger Michael remembering the day he
ordered the hit on his brother, Fredo; no montage depicting the elder Michael
writing to his children, Anthony and Mary; no wallowing in a lot of
sepia-tinted shots of Manhattan, circa 1970 (which frankly, never made much
sense), and no church ceremony, honoring Michael. No, the new beginning
introduces us to the sage Michael in his discussion with Archbishop Gilday
(Donal Donnelly) and Michael’s desire to give the Vatican $600 million for
shares of Internazionale Immobiliare – a scene that first appeared in the 1990
cut some 40-full-minutes into the movie.
And thus, Coda may not be so
much ‘an improvement’ as a ‘reimagining’ of a movie that never deserved its
reputation as an artistic turkey. In either cut, Michael Corleone is still left
to grapple with the knowledge his entire life’s work has meant total sacrifice,
not only of the principles he started out with after returning from the war as
a decorated hero, but also the family he fought like hell to preserve in one
form or another, only to wreck it all in the end. Likely, Coda will be
viewed from a doubled-edged sword, Coppola’s ‘tinkering’, conceived as ill-fated
and muddying the waters even further. What Coppola has done in Coda is
to remove the superfluous bits. Yet, as once upon a time Coppola never intended
to make even a first sequel to his beloved 1972 original, to now observe his
director’s calm and unafraid investment in reexamining the métier of the mob
with a fresh pair of eyes, and, arguably, on his own terms, seems not as an
apology for a movie Coppola did not want to make, but one he always knew he
could do better.
Paramount’s new 4K UHD release of The
Godfather and its two sequels, plus Coda is, of course, cribbing
from the The Coppola Restorations released to Blu-ray 5 years ago. Aside:
there are, in fact, 3 cuts of Godfather III included herein: the
theatrical, the 1991 expanded edition, and Coda. At the time, I couldn’t
imagine why Paramount had resisted the urge to simultaneously market a native
4K release. Ah, they were waiting for The Godfather to turn 50! But they were also working on even more
improvements. In 2007, film restoration expert extraordinaire, Robert Harris became
involved in a thoroughly immersive ‘rescue’ effort to will The Godfather
and its’ sequels back from the brink. Despite their relatively ‘new’ vintage
(50 isn’t old) The Godfather’s I and II hold the dubious
distinction of being among the most poorly archived and maintained movies in
all of film history. Mr. Harris’ efforts eventually made up ‘the Coppola
restoration’ Blu-ray release. Now, Paramount and Zoetrope have gone back to
these elements anew for a native 4K, 50th Anniversary restoration – marking a
significant uptick in quality. Immediately noted, are the more nuanced flesh
tones, especially in the original movie. Flesh looks uncannily like flesh in
close-up. This may sound odd, but in previous home video releases flesh had a
curiously orange caste, carried over in the 2007 transfers. I had always
assumed this was as cinematographer, Gordon Willis had intended. And to be
sure, the caste is still here. The color palette has not undergone any weird
revisionist’s re-imagining to add or change color processing. But now, with
triple the screen resolution in a new 4K scan, the orange bias is brought back
in line with the natural ‘make-up’ of the actors. The other thing I noticed
immediately was that whites now look white, and not slightly ‘off’ with a
desaturated sepia caste. Does this mean, this latest 4K offering is not
according to Mr. Willis’ wishes? I don’t think so. What it does mean, is that
the overall refinement in color and clarity have made The Godfather look even
more subtly nuanced, crisp and gorgeous than ever before, with resolution
taking Mr. Willis’ darkest scenes to the nth degree in visual clarity. Paramount went back to original camera
negatives here to reinstate and correct optical shots and dissolves. Dupes have also been replaced. Those who know
and love The Godfather and its sequels are going to be very impressed. Again,
Paramount spent hours going over all of these transfers with a fine-toothed
digital comb, performing repairs and ever-so-slightly tweaking color density.
The results speak for themselves.
The DTS 5.1 audio masters appear to
be identical to the previously issued Godfather Trilogy on
Blu-ray – not a bad thing. Better still, Paramount gives us new restored 2.0 DTS options for the original mono mixes to the first two movies. Generally, I'm a purist for such things. But I prefer the 5.1's to the mono tracks. Both, however, sound wonderful. Extras are plentiful. Virtually every extra that was
a part of the Coppola Restoration package has found its way to this 50th
Anniversary re-issue. So, we get the engrossing audio commentaries from Francis
Ford Coppola - one to augment each movie. The extras produced exclusively for
the Blu-ray reissue of 2008, while good, paled in comparison to the ones ported
over from the original LaserDisc releases from the mid-1990’s. The Making of
The Godfather, as example, remains all too brief, a glossy but
glossed over ‘lost opportunity’ to give fans a comprehensive look
behind-the-scenes; despite having a litany of interviews distilled into mere
sound bites. We also get additional deleted scenes, storyboards, a featurette
about the various locations used, another, on the Corleone ‘family tree’, and
‘the underscore, plus, featurettes extolling the vices Coppola endured while
making the picture and a brief, but engaging short subject on the restoration
of the first two movies. Coppola also appears briefly in two intros recorded
earlier, one for the original film, and another for Coda. Paramount
has shelled out for new extras too, including Full Circle: Preserving The
Godfather – a fascinating look at this latest restoration effort, plus, Capturing
The Corleones: Through the Lens of Photographer Steve Schapiro, The Godfather -
Home Movies and restoration comparisons. Bottom line: The Godfather: 50th
Anniversary 4K UHD should be considered the final word on this epic trilogy.
Very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 -5 being the best)
The Godfather –
5+
The Godfather
Part II – 5+
The Godfather
Part III – 4
The Godfather: Coda
– The Death of Michael Corleone - 3
VIDEO/AUDIO
5+ overall
EXTRAS
4.5
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