OK. 1990's "Godfather: Part III" left such a bad taste in our mouth, that we had to have a reset. The original played on the big screen in March for its 50th anniversary, and it's been more than 20 years since we saw the 1974 sequel. As we noted before, plenty has been said about the films, so we'll be brief and just jot down a few notes about two of the greatest films of all time.
THE GODFATHER (1972) (A) - Fifty years later, and I wouldn't change a scene. Gosh, what a glorious, sprawling story of a postwar family, based on Mario Puzo's guidebook for all mob tales that would follow.
Tying in with the anniversary, we gulped down Mark Seal's recent book about the making of the movie, Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli. Seal's tick-tock has a juicy, sweeping swagger not unlike Puzo's novel. It gives you an appreciation for Puzo, who was grinding out pulp fiction before he finished the novel that was based on years of research into mob life that involved poring over transcripts of congressional hearings with pivotal mafia figures. The book then unravels the production of the film at Paramount, from costumes to casting. It's a delightful read.
It took a lot of hard work and good luck for it to all come together. Francis Ford Coppola sweated over the script with Puzo (see the two below) and constantly pushed for top-shelf production values, assisted by producer Al Ruddy. It's easy to take for granted the cinematography by Gordon Willis (criticized at the time for his dark palette) or the music of Nino Rota, but these are legendary contributions.
One of the biggest disappointments of the belated third installment in 1990 was the weak cast. The original, by contrast, has a lineup that won't quit. Marlon Brando was in a career funk before he committed to the lead role (taking more money up front instead of a piece of the immense profits, according to Seal). Young hungry actors like James Caan, Robert Duvall and Al Pacino carved their names into history with their turns here. John Cazale and Diane Keaton would play critical supporting roles, both here and in Part II. Character actors Alex Rocco ("I'm Moe Greene! I made my bones when you were going out with cheerleaders!"), Richard Castellano ("Mikey, why don't you tell that nice girl you love her?"), Abe Vigoda ("Can you get me off the hook, Tom? For old times' sake?"), Richard Conte ("After all, we are not communists") and John Marley ("And if that goombah tries any rough stuff, you tell him I ain't no bandleader") made hay with little screen time. Real-life mob-affiliated guys like Lenny Montana (as the indelible Luca Brasi) and Gianni Russo (as philandering brother-in-law Carlo) lent gravitas. Sterling Hayden reprised his noir career with the critical portrayal of the crooked cop who dared to slug a Corleone.
Coppola infused every corner of the movie with authenticity of Italian culture, especially the food spreads. It is trite to criticize the film as an affront to Italian-Americans; this is a family saga that happens to involve criminal behavior. Sure, the violence has been glorified (and imitated, ad nauseam) over the years, but there is no denying the power and the depth of the storytelling, steeped in cultural touchstones. You can't help but wince at the pain experienced by Vito Corleone when he loses a son, from the moment Tom Hagen breaks the news to him to his reaction at seeing the corpse: "Look how they massacred my boy." Others: The indebted funeral director Bonasera at the service of the don to make sure Sonny's body is presentable, carrying out the favor that had been banked in the opening scene. The doddering don succumbing to a heart attack amid his tomato plants. The twin-tower bookends of a sprawling outdoor wedding to begin the movie and a christening -- intercut with scenes of assassinations -- for the climax.
The narrative is sophisticated (even a challenge to follow at times). The transformation of Pacino's Michael, from bright-eyed college-boy war hero to somber godfather, his cheekbones sharpening, is operatic: "Today I settled all family business." His time exiled in Sicily is bright and lung-filling yet heartbreaking. James Caan, matching Pacino blow for blow, is said to have ad-libbed some of his memorable maneuvers -- tossing bills at a photographer whose camera he smashed; tossing "badda-bing" and "badda-beep badda-boop" into his banter -- and his performance still elicits a chef's kiss in response.
And Brando did much more than wear a dental device to give him an old man's jowls. (Note the 48-year-old's transformation above.) He set the tone from the start, stroking the fur of a cat (that he had found on the set and incorporated into the scene) as he conducted the family business on the wedding day of the don's daughter. He knows how to slather on sarcasm, telling Sollozzo, after Sonny talks out of line during a meeting, "I have a sentimental weakness for my children and I spoil them, as you can see. They talk when they should listen." He tells Michael that he wanted him to go legit, to have the real power: "I refused to be a fool dancing on the strings held by all of those big shots. That's my life; I don't apologize for that. But I always thought that when it was your time, that you would be the one to hold the strings. Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone, something."
There just wasn't enough time for Vito Corleone and his sons. Michael consoles him: "We'll get there, Pop. We'll get there." Cue Part II.
THE GODFATHER: PART II (1974) - I've always given the sight edge to the sequel, a rare (unmatched?) instance in which the sophomore effort improbably outshines the original. While the original is a grand sweeping saga without a misstep, the second film is more ambitious cinematically. And whereas the first movie, even with Brando at the helm, was an ensemble piece, this time Al Pacino, emerging as a star, steps forward in the sequel to carry it all on his shoulders. (Pacino was in the middle of a run bookended by "Serpico" and "Dog Day Afternoon.")
Michael, having firmly established the family in Las Vegas (with a U.S. senator in his pocket), is now merciless, fearless and peerless. He dabbles with legitimacy. He continues an uneasy alliance with Hyman Roth as a gaggle of mafiosi and businessmen finalize plans to go big into Havana (90 miles from the U.S. coast, with a government that will look the other way) -- foolishly on the eve of the Cuban revolution. Michael sees trouble coming and makes the wise business maneuver.
It is almost hard to believe that Pacino shares half the story with Robert De Niro, who does a deep dive into the origin story of Vito Corleone, an orphan dumped at Ellis Island, who eventually makes his bones by knocking off the monolithic don over an employment slight. Coppola intercuts the scenes of the present day with the sepia-toned backstory, never fumbling an edit, dabbling in dissolves. He transforms Puzo's novel into an epic legend, extending the sprawl of the generations, deepening the motivations of Vito and Michael Corleone.
The main story takes place a mere 16 years in the past (1958 vis-a-vis 1974), and the storyline of the Senate committee's hearings was much more relatable to viewers than was the nostalgic World War II era. Michael figures out a way to elude a half dozen perjury charges by pulling a last-minute trick and convincing turncoat Frank Pentangeli to take a proverbial bullet for the team.
We get an echo of the christening scene, as this all builds toward Michael exacting revenge on his new set of enemies. His dance with Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), his father's old acquaintance, is beautifully nuanced. Strasberg gives a performance for the ages as the death-defying mobster ("He's been dying of the same heart attack for 20 years"), whether it's lecturing Michael on the Havana deal, relating the story of how he looked the other way when Moe Green was knocked off, or abasing himself before the press, literally hat in hand, when he realizes he has been check-mated at the end ("I'm a retired investor living on a pension"). At least Miami brightens the movie.
Diane Keaton as Kay Corleone and John Cazale as Fredo both up their game for the sequel. Kay will seal her fate by defying Michael in the most devastating way she can think of, and Fredo will finally try to stand up for himself. When told that their father wanted Michael to take over, Fredo -- knowing that his days are numbered -- finally erupts: "It ain't the way I wanted it! I can handle things! I'm smart! Not like
everybody says ... like dumb ... I'm smart and I want respect!" Sure thing, Fredo.
Like in the original, minor supporting players make invaluable contributions. Scratchy-voiced Michael Gazzo provides the glue as Pentangeli, an old-school captain caught between Corleone and Roth. His scene with Robert Duvall's Tom Hagen toward the end is richly bittersweet. Dominic Chianese, as Roth's bagman Johnny Ola, has that same sly look he would bring to "The Sopranos" as Uncle Junior. (I think he's the only common connection between the two productions.)
Of course, in the end, this is Pacino's masterpiece; his Shakespearean summit. He commands every inch of the modern era's scenes. No one could command a chair, as if he were king of the world, like Michael Corleone. And few actors could rivet you for 200 minutes like Al Pacino in his prime.
BONUS TRACK
"That kid's name was Moe Greene ..."
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