An Offer I Long Refused

 We could spend a semester exploring two of the all-time great films "The Godfather" and "The Godfather: Part II" (we give a slight edge to the sequel) on the 50th anniversary of its release. (It debuted in New York on March 14, 1972 and went wide a week later.) But plenty has been written and will be written yet about the classic saga. Instead, let's finally relent and give the much-derided third installment its long-awaited due. Enough time has passed now that there's little danger of tarnishing the originals.

THE GODFATHER: PART III (1990) (C) - Cue the mandolins. Bleat out the lament. This long-delayed (not necessarily -awaited) sequel to the twin towers of '70s cinema is a major face-plant for Francis Ford Coppola and his star, a weary Al Pacino as a physically weakened (if ungodly rich) Michael Corleone. 

Let's be clear: None of this is Sofia Coppola's fault. She actually is quite OK, subbing for the actresses who dropped out of the role of Mary, Michael's daughter. She endured great grief as the director's daughter thrust into a pivotal role, but a decade later Scarlett Johannson would borrow that awkward affect and become a star (in part due to Sofia Coppola's switch to directing, including great movies like "Lost in Translation"). No, the problem is with a script that is both convoluted and simplistic, and with the downgrading of the cast to the B-list.

Throughout its nearly three-hour run, "G3" plays like a run-of-the-mill soap opera. It has the cheap feel of a knock-off sequel abandoned by those who made the original a hit. It's like "Smokey and the Bandit Part 3," without Burt Reynolds and Sally Field (or the original creator) but focusing mainly on the sheriff. 

Here, the main characters who are brought back are Pacino's Michael, his ex-wife Kay (Diane Keaton) and his sister Connie (Talia Shire), who for some reason lives with him in a mansion now that he is back in New York after concluding the mob family's run in Las Vegas, finally -- finally -- pursuing his vow to go legit. It is 1979, and Michael now wants to go into business with the Pope. (The storyline tracks with a Vatican bank scandal of that era.) But the plot here is rather convoluted. Needless to say, the Corleone family has hundreds of millions of dollars to throw around and/or launder.

The first 20 minutes or so involve an elaborate party thrown by the Catholic Church in Michael's honor, recognizing him for his charitable work. This is supposed to mirror the original film and its extended opening scene surrounding Connie's big Italian wedding (and its contrast with business being conducted behind closed doors); but here, things are morose and awkward, and it's an unflattering comparison to the 1972 original. But we are introduced to Vincent Mancini, an illegitimate son of Michael's brother, Sonny, who, it is obvious from the start, will be Michael's heir to the Corleone throne.

Andy Garcia plays Vincent, and he comes off like a high school thespian doing an Al Pacino imitation. His big rival is Joey Zasa, a preening kingpin played by Joe Mantegna, coming out of David Mamet's left field to throw off the cadence of Coppola's operatic display of drama. Vincent has a fling with a journalist played by Bridget Fonda, who sticks out like bowl of potato salad and whose pointless character disappears without explanation before the halfway mark of this 162-minute marathon. (But first she must get naked and terrorized to advance the plot.) Vincent also toys with the emotions of his cousin, Mary, who falls head over heels for him.

Not to get overly nostalgic about the original cast (which was deep and uniquely talented), but this whole production plays out like a dish of cold baked ziti. Pacino, mesmerizing in the first two films, had already crossed the rubicon with cartoonish roles in "Scarface" and "Dick Tracy," and he was on the eve of all-out cheese with all that "Scent of a Woman" hoo-ha. He had turned into an actor who either yelled or whispered, and here he mostly whispers. He does ham it up in a Shakespearean manner at times, especially when, forever haunted by his decision to order the death of brother Fredo, he suffers some sort of diabetic stroke, during which he blurts out hysterical confessions. Huh?

Keaton and Shire get thankless roles, which was par for the course throughout the macho Corleone saga, and Shire just doesn't have the chops to play the tough ol' matriarch. Watching Garcia made me wonder whether he ever was better than merely average. Robert Duvall refused to come back as consigliere Tom Hagen, so we end up with George Hamilton. No, really. John Savage is wasted as Hagen's son, who is now a priest, installed by the Corleones as their in at the Vatican. Eli Wallach sleepwalks through his role as a fading don.

Coppola tops off this ridiculousness with an over-the-top hit scene straight out of the Michael Bay playbook. It involves a helicopter attack. No, really. (There also is an attempted assassination by cannoli. Mm-hmm.) A climactic scene at the opera in Venice is drained of tension and is another pale imitation -- of the christening scene in the original. 

A perfect example of the watered-down nature of the film comes when Coppola feels compelled to duplicate the scene in the original in which Sonny speaks out of turn at a meeting with a rival, prompting Vito to chastise him: "Never tell anyone outside the family what you are thinking again." Here it's Michael, after having shared his thoughts with an outsider, chastising Vincent, "Never let anyone know what you are thinking." It just makes no sense without the nuance. And neither does the idea or execution of "The Godfather: Part III."