The Godfather
It’s difficult to review older movies sometimes, as the trouble of bringing some sort of new insight and context to the classics is often insurmountable. In the case of one of the most popular movies of all time, that difficulty level skyrockets. That’s why, in cases like these, I embrace the vainness of bringing something new to the table and damn the torpedoes. Talking about great movies should be fun and stimulating, I think.
1972’s The Godfather, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, is based on the novel of the same name by Mario Puzo. Coppola’s film trimmed some subplots from Puzo’s 1969 book and left off the flashback story of Vito Corleone’s early life. The flashback was included in the sequel to The Godfather, of course. Puzo’s massive novel included more texture than the film adaptation, which is often the case. The novel explored the characters in greater depth and offers different motivation for Michael’s behaviour adjustment, with Michael telling Sonny that “They made it personal when they shot Pop.”
At the core of Coppola’s film is that behaviour amendment. The Godfather is a story of change more than it is a simple mafia movie. It grants its characters incredible depth, breaking the mould of similar pictures. Interestingly, Coppola had worried that his motion picture would glorify the characters and the lifestyles of mafia members, but he was able to make a connection to the material after viewing it as a metaphor for American capitalism.
Marlon Brando stars as Don Vito Corleone. He is the head of the Corleone crime family. The Corleone family is the most powerful of the New York families, but their influence is beginning to diminish. The Godfather famously opens with the wedding reception of the Don’s daughter, Connie (Talia Shire), and Carlo Rizzi (Gianni Russo). As is customary among Sicilians, the Don cannot refuse any requests on his daughter’s wedding day so he spends the majority of the wedding day in his office with family lawyer and consigliere Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) handing various requests from members of the community.
The Don’s youngest son, Michael (Al Pacino), has arrived home from World War II service with his girlfriend Kay Adams (Diane Keaton). Michael assures Kay that he is different from his family. Soon enough, however, Michael is tested and must side with his family for the sake of his father’s life. He takes on a critical role within the organization, leading to a departure to Sicily, the death of his brother Sonny (James Caan), and other events that test his character.
One of the extraordinary aspects of The Godfather is the cinematography. The motion picture looks gritty and often shadowy, proposing a sense of realism callously at odds with a more theatrical, enchanting vision. These men are not presented as laudable figures. Instead, through the use of lighting, camera angles, and colours, they are presented as profoundly conflicted souls that act in harmony with their lot in life. The mob is a family and there is a certain set of rules and roles to play.
The performances are marvellous, becoming more remarkable and nuanced with each time I watch the movie. Brando’s Vito isn’t the main character as he is in Puzo’s narrative, but the performer gives the Don an awful lot of sparkling grain. He is a man that no longer needs to convince others of his power; he no longer needs to play games, to posture, to puff himself up. Vito’s repute precedes him and we are convinced of this for the simple fact that we know better not to doubt him.
A compellingly triumphant period piece, The Godfather earns its stripes as one of the finest movies of all time. Its three-hour runtime sails by like a light breeze, with every moment appealing, every character stimulating, and every event intensely fascinating. It is a story of an elaborate crime dynasty, of conversion, and of baptism by fire. Essential viewing, The Godfather is one of the greatest movies of all time.
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