by Joseph Rossi
Certain movies just die after release. They spend their time in cinemas, make it onto home video and then, after many years, languish in late night TV hell for some unassuming night owl to watch. Then there are certain movies that stand the test of time. Movies that have shelf life. Movies that, like a fine wine, get better with age. I am talking about Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather.
Burdened with a summer cold (thank you mother nature) and not being able to sleep a full night, I wanted to watch something that would make me drowsy and conk out on my recliner. I usually go for something long and dialogue heavy (The English Patient, Lawrence of Arabia, etc). I ended up choosing The Godfather at about 1AM hoping to pass out before the horse head scene. Nothing doing. I ended up watching the entire thing. I always knew it was a classic; it’s a great example of a true genre picture as well as a great lesson in acting and directing. But having not watched it for so long made me re-discover this truly remarkable film again.
The film is cemented in Hollywood lore. The battles between the studio and writer/director Coppola, Brando’s not being able to work without cue cards, Jack Nicholson or Robert Redford’s possible involvement as Michael Corleone, the fight for Al Pacino…all part of movie history. It was made in a time where new Hollywood talent had come into play. Starting in the late 60’s, maverick directors where starting to make more intimate and personal films. Gone were the hired hand directors of the past; these were auteurs.
Now The Godfather was a studio job handed to a young Italian American writer director. It was adapted from it’s roots; a pulpy, semi trashy novel by Mario Puzo. What Coppola did was remove the pulp and trash and focus on, and augment, the themes of family honor, the American immigrant experience, and capitalism. Francis Coppola’s Italian heritage was instrumental in creating this world and all its nuances. As a Canadian with an Italian background, it’s those tiny touches that make the film memorable and to some extent, familiar. But the film is more then peppers and pasta. It is a complex, sometimes brutal piece that doesn’t hold back its punches. It’s really about Michael Corleone (Al Pacino), a smart and virtuous man, who despite the good intention of saving his father’s life must commit an un-virtuous act; an act he will never recover from. That’s it. Simple but complex at the same time.
Coppola could have made the standard, for the time, mob flick. But being a deft writer he uses his talent to weave a morality play. We feel for these people because he makes us care. But like a good catholic Sunday school lesson, guilt isn’t too far behind. Coppola never let’s us forget that we’re rooting for murderers and it’s that queasy feeling, that I’m part of that world vibe, that keeps us watching.
What I find fascinating after all these years is how individual scenes stand out as mini masterpieces of cinema. And not just the scenes that everyone remembers or quotes. We all remember the horse head scene, Luca Brasi and the fish scene, Sonny’s (James Cann) death by 1000 bullets. But no one talks about the garden conversation between Michael and his father (Marlon Brando), which is a beautifully written scene between a worried parent and a dutiful child. There is a sad scene where Brando reacts to the news of his son’s death that is a master class in acting and cinematography. And Cinematography indeed. One of the unsung heroes of the film, as important as all the actors, writers and director, is lens guru Gordon Willis.
One of the greatest cinematographers ever, Willis will always be remembered, and for good reason, as the prince of darkness. Look at each scene in this movie. Everything looks like a Caravaggio oil painting. Yellow, browns and blacks are the major colors on screen. Gordon Willis black is not the same as the standard color black. There is lushness to his darkness. That’s kind of an oxymoron I know, but hey, sue me, it’s brilliant, mood setting lighting. The famous opening scene, the face of a saddened and vengeful undertaker emerging from the darkness which pulls back in one long dolly shot in a thing of beauty. It is mirrored by the reveal of the massive skull of Brando’s Don Vito Corleone, his eye’s hiding in their sockets, their mystery hidden by the lack of light. That’s all due to Willis. How he was never awarded an Oscar for this film I’ll never know.
This is a movie that is made with confidence. It is sure of itself. It movies from scene to scene with fluidity. A lesser movie would have unraveled by the violent multi-climax but The Godfather remains on course so steadily that we follow its narrative to the bitter, cold, bloody end.
