1975: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Randle McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) feigns insanity to avoid prison.

Release Date: Nov. 19, 1975. Running Time: 135 minutes. Screenplay by: Lawrence Hauben, Bo Goldman. Based on the Novel by: Ken Kesey. Producer: Saul Zaentz, Michael Douglas. Director: Miloš Forman.


THE PLOT:

Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) has absolute control over her ward at a mental institution. Everything goes according to her schedule, with even the moments of chaos among the patients being carefully constrained. This is noticed by doctors and staff, with Dr. Spivey (Dean Brooks) referring to her as "one of the finest nurses we've got."

Into this palace of order comes an agent of chaos: Randle P. McMurphy (Jack Nicholson). An inmate sentenced to a brief stint on a prison work farm, McMurphy has come up with the perfect way to get out of his work detail: by faking insanity. No one is fooled, least of all Dr. Spivey, but he's just convincing enough to be referred for a period of observation.

McMurphy and Ratched despise each other on sight. The charismatic McMurphy is a threat to her dominance; Ratched's inflexible adherence to schedules and procedures ticks off every one of his anti-authoritarian instincts. Their mutual hatred quickly turns into a battle of wills - but what McMurphy doesn't realize is that the terms of his referral leave him in a position to potentially lose his freedom forever!

McMurphy rallies the other patients by faking a World Series broadcast.

JACK NICHOLSON AS RANDLE McMURTRY:

He first knocks heads with Nurse Ratched over personal annoyances, from music that he finds too loud to a World Series game that he desperately wants to watch. He practically sneers at the patients who just go along with Ratched's bullying. He may have been denied seeing his game, he observes - "But I tried, didn't I? ...At least I did that."

He maintains a carefree front, and he seems to legitimately enjoy the awe with which the others look upon his acts of rebellion. Still, he notices the injustices on the ward. Even at the beginning, when he's at his most selfish, he watches with visible disgust as Ratched wields her power, and that only grows as their conflict continues. He rallies the other patients with his boisterousness... but as the camera lingers on his face, it catches micro-expressions that show a steadily building anger. This finally gets released in a moment that is simultaneously shocking and inevitable.

If Al Pacino's Dog Day Afternoon had fallen in any other year, I would have said he was robbed of the Oscar... but Jack Nicholson is completely, utterly magnetic, and his performance is startlingly layered; this was one of the roles that created his star persona, but he isn't relying on it here. I'd rate this as a strong candidate for Nicholson's best work, and I would have to agree with his Best Actor Oscar.

Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher) watches the patients on the exercise yard.

LOUISE FLETCHER AS NURSE RATCHED:

The American Film Institute ranked Nurse Ratched #5 on their list of the greatest movie villains. She presents herself as a kindly figure, phrasing her edicts as if they are for the good of patients or the group, but she cares nothing about her charges as people. They aren't even numbers and statistics - They are her subjects, and what matters is her total control of them.

Louise Fletcher makes this character into McMurphy's opposite. He is loud, rakishly unkempt, and proudly lewd and angry; she is perfectly composed, soft-spoken, and proper. He is open, loud in displaying his emotions and appearing to have no filter; she reveals nothing, with the only indication of a life outside the ward being her (unreliable) statement that she's an old friend of patient Billy Bibbit (Brad Dourif)'s mother. McMurphy makes a spectacle of himself often just by being in the room; she is often shown silently watching.

It's a perfectly judged performance. By making Ratched so utterly poised, it shows her stress when she finally begins snapping and even shouting in the latter part of the film, when she senses her control starting to slip.

McMurphy with Chief (Will Sampson), who isn't as catatonic as he pretends.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Chief: The large-statured Native American patient has perfected what McMurphy merely feigns, convincing everyone on the ward that he is catatonic. We're tipped off otherwise courtesy of quick reaction shots, but it's more than halfway through the film before McMurphy learns the truth, with Chief revealing himself in secret because the other man has earned his respect. He attempts to warn McMurphy about the trouble he's inviting with his rebelliousness, comparing him to his late father: "My poppa's real big, he did like he pleased. That's why everybody worked on him... I'm not saying they killed him. They just worked on him, the way they're working on you."

Dale Harding: The most verbose of the ward's patients, Harding (William Redfield) has the look and manner of a middle-class accountant. He's more than a little full of himself, which makes him a target of mockery by other patients - particularly the belligerent Taber (Christopher Lloyd). Early on, he snaps at Taber verbally when the other man insinuates that he's a closeted homosexual, but that's all he does. Later, seemingly as a result of McMurphy's influence, he gets back at Taber by giving him a hotfoot in group, and he seems giddy at getting away with it.

Billy Bibbit: Brad Dourif's first screen role (at least, the first one that didn't end up on the cutting room floor), and it's a memorable debut. Billy is the youngest patient on the ward, a shy stutterer who has attempted suicide multiple times. He's sexually frustrated, and he is enchanted when McMurphy brings a prostitute (Marya Small) on the mid-film fishing trip. Nurse Ratched makes him into a particular target, deliberately quashing any sign of self-confidence. He tells a harmless lie in group therapy, detailing an encounter with a young woman the way he wished it had happened, and smiles for a moment to enjoy the group's approval - only for Ratched to call him out on the lie to reduce him to a stammering nonentity.

Other Patients: Sydney Lassick has some amusing scenes as the comically anxious Cheswick, while a startlingly young Danny DeVito steals several bits with (probably improvised) physical comedy as Martini. Christopher Lloyd stands out as the angry Max Taber, one of the few patients on the ward who isn't there by choice. Vincent Schiavelli lends strong physical presence to the hulking, silent Frederickson, though we never actually learn anything about him. All of the supporting actors do their jobs well, never intruding on the central conflict between McMurphy and Ratched while still getting the most of small moments and making it believable that McMurphy would feel a growing protectiveness toward them.

Billy Bibbit (Brad Dourif), the youngest of the patients on Nurse Ratched's ward.

THOUGHTS:

"You guys do nothing but complain about how you can't stand it in this place here, and you don't have the guts just to walk out? What do you think you are... crazy or something? Well, you're not! You're not! You're no crazier than the average **** out walkin' around on the streets!"
-Randle P. McMurphy is appalled by the passiveness of his fellow patients.

What is there to say about One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest? It's a fixture on all lists of "great movies." It works on multiple levels: as a story about a contest of wills between two equally stubborn polar opposites; as an allegory about the cost of individuality in a cold, unfeeling system; as a look at abuses within the mental health industry (I'd wager one scene represented most contemporary viewers' first exposure to electroshock therapy). It's even a pretty good character comedy that seamlessly mutates into a searing drama.

Performances are superb, with Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher portraying vivid characters who instantly became iconic. Just as important to the film's success is Miloš Forman's directorial style. There are many scenes composed of characters talking, and Forman uses his camera to move slowly in on key characters across these scenes.

This is particularly effective when he's moving in on reaction shots. During an early group therapy scene, the camera closes on McMurphy from one angle and Ratched from another - not on them talking, but instead picking up their reactions. Ratched ignores the other patients as they argue amongst themselves, instead glaring at this new threat to her control. McMurphy, in turn, recognizes her for the domineering figure that she is, and tries to throw off her concentration by noisily shuffling his deck of cards. He barely speaks during the scene, but he makes absolutely clear his disdain for this authority figure whom he's already decided "ain't honest."

This scene is mirrored by a later group therapy session. This occurs after McMurphy learns that Ratched has the power to keep him in the ward indefinitely, and he's now endeavoring to behave. She is smug as he carefully asks why no one warned him of his situation. Once again, chaos breaks out, not because of anything McMurphy is doing, but because of the rebellion he's stoked across weeks of individual incidents. The usually meek Cheswick decides he wants access to his cigarettes, which Nurse Ratched has confiscated and is keeping at the nurse's station, and he ignores all instructions to sit down.

Less than five minutes of screen time earlier, McMurphy would have basked in this as a triumph. Now the stakes have changed, with his fate now entirely in the hands of his worst enemy. What would have been more comedy antics are now a source of tension, with both McMurphy and the viewers seeing that every bit of pushback from the other patients is one more nail locking him in his cage for good.

McMurphy's greatest act of rebellion: Taking the patients out for a fishing trip.
Inevitably, this high is swiftly answered with a fall.

A SHIFT IN TONE:

The shift in tone is beautifully executed. Though the first half is mostly light-hearted, there are enough edges to keep it from ever feeling completely like a comedy. Nurse Ratched's baleful glares promise retribution, and her soft-spoken bullying of Billy is an early tipoff of her malevolence. McMurphy's doomed attempt to lift a water fixture to escape is almost disturbing as his face literally turns red from the effort before he finally gives up.

Throughout the first half, McMurphy seems to "win" the contest of wills. After Ratched refuses his request to watch the World Series, he glares balefully for a second - then, refusing to allow her the victory, he fakes the game, staring at the blank screen of the television and reading off plays with a sports announcer's patter. The result is that the other patients flock to him even more than if Ratched had allowed them to watch the actual game.

Little incidents and episodes build to the mid-film set piece: McMurphy "borrowing" the bus to take the other patients on an impromptu fishing trip. This is the only sequence in the film that takes place outside the confines of the institution, and it's like a weight is lifted as they steal a boat and go out onto the water, all of them enjoying a moment of pure freedom.

Even the color palette brightens; in contrast to the institution, where everything is white or light blue and antiseptic, on the fishing trip there are bright colors, with each patient granted a red life vest. The editing is faster, and there is more motion, all conveying a sense of freedom that contrasts with the rest of the movie.

Nurse Ratched enforces her will on her suddenly unruly ward.

The tone changes immediately after. There's an ominously quiet scene as Ratched, Dr. Spivey, and Spivey's colleagues debate McMurphy's fate. Spivey is on the cusp of sending him back to prison (where, in fairness, he belongs), when Ratched interferes, insisting that sending him away would be dereliction of their duties. It's then that McMurphy learns the reality of his situation, that he is now serving an indefinite sentence with Nurse Ratched as both judge and jailer.

The movie's final sequence is haunting and beautiful, a succession of wonderful visual shots that are perfectly accompanied by Jack Nitzsche's score. I won't give anything away - but I will say that on rewatch, it is remarkable just how many small moments earlier in the film foreshadow each and every piece of this ending.


OVERALL:

There are plenty of aspects to this movie that I'm not touching on. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I'm not touching on anything from the movie's final third, but the way the film moves between different styles is beautiful to behold, elements of French farce giving way to moments of great suspense.

This is, simply put, a great motion picture, one that fully lives up to its towering reputation - and lest that put you off, it's also compulsively watchable.


Rating: 10/10.

Best Picture - 1974: The Godfather, Part II
Best Picture - 1976: Rocky (not yet reviewed)

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Supplemental Review: The Godfather, Part III (1990).

An aging Michael Corleone makes an ambitious final effort to redeem his family name.

Release Date: Dec. 20, 1990. Running Time: 162 minutes (theatrical), 170 minutes (director's cut), 158 minutes (re-release). Screenplay by: Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola. Producer: Francis Ford Coppola. Director: Francis Ford Coppola.

Note: This review is based on the 1991 "Final Director's Cut."


THE PLOT:

The year is 1979 and, after decades of investment in legitimate businesses, Michael believes he has finally freed himself and his family from ties to organized crime. "We've sold the casinos, all businesses having to do with gambling. We have no interests or investments in anything illegitimate."

He plans to cement his turn from mafia don to respected businessman by purchasing control of Immobiliare, a company with deep ties to the Catholic Church. The deal is contingent on personal approval by the Pope himself, but Archbishop Gilday (Donal Donnelly), head of the Vatican Bank, assures him that this is little more than a formality.

Then the Pope falls ill, leaving ratification of the agreement in limbo. If the Pope dies, one of the corrupt executives smirks, "all bets are off" - with Michael potentially left with nothing.

Even as he navigates this mess, problems are brewing in New York. Vincent Mancini (Andy Garcia), the illegitimate son of Michael's late brother Sonny, has come into conflict with gangster Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna). Zasa has taken control of the territory once protected by Michael's father, and he has turned it into a crime-infested sewer. Michael extends his protection to Vincent, taking the hotheaded young man under his wing in hopes of teaching him patience. Outside of that, however, he refuses to get involved.

That isn't good enough for Joey Zasa. With backing from an unidentified enemy, he makes a move - one that threatens to pull Michael right back into the world he left behind!

Michael attempts to purchase a company with ties to the Vatican.

AL PACINO AS DON MICHAEL CORLEONE:

My opinion of Al Pacino's performance in The Godfather, Part III is similar to my opinion of the movie itself. On its own terms, it's a good performance, suffering mainly by comparison to the two 1970s films.

Pacino is particularly good at capturing Michael's physical weariness. He walks with a stoop and seeming to be contracting into himself, diminishing before our eyes. He's uncomfortable even when he sits, as if he doesn't quite fit into the chair, and he regularly slumps his head or even entire body to one side. His visible exhaustion makes his moments of strong emotion more effective, notably a scene in which he falls into tears when confessing his sins to an honest Cardinal.

"I would burn in hell to keep you safe," he tells his daughter, Mary (Sofia Coppola) - and indeed, he believes himself to be beyond any kind of redemption, his only solace the hope that he's protected his children from the world he fell into. He protests to Kay that he never had a choice, that he had to act as he did to protect the people he loved, only to lose them anyway.

However - again, like the movie itself - there's no question that he isn't at the same level here as in the first two movies. In The Godfather and particularly The Godfather, Part II, Pacino didn't so much play Michael as inhabit him. Even now, when I rewatch the earlier movies, I don't see Pacino playing Michael; I see the character. By contrast, in this third entry, I mostly see Al Pacino.

Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna) prepares to move against Michael.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Kay Adams Corleone: The opening scenes indicate that she's had minimal contact with Michael since their marriage ended, but they mutually agreed for her to take charge of their children's education... which is absolutely not inconsistent with him wordlessly slamming the door in her face while she was saying goodbye to the children at the end of the The Godfather, Part II. She still has unresolved feelings for him, rushing to his side when he has a medical emergency, but she remains wary of the danger surrounding him. Diane Keaton is good as ever, but she unfortunately gets stuck with some of the clunkiest dialogue, notably when she complains that Michael is more dangerous now than when he was "just a common Mafia hood."

Connie Corleone: One thing that can be said for The Godfather, Part III is that it gives a lot more to its female cast than the first two films. Nowhere is this more evident than with Talia Shire's Connie, a decidedly supporting character in the earlier entries who graduates to a central role here. She has retained contact with Kay, and she also brings Vincent to Michael. She is a direct advisor to Michael (almost certainly a case of Talia Shire inheriting some of what would have been Robert Duvall's role), authorizing Vincent to respond to actions against the Corleones while Michael is in the hospital and directly participating in the opera house climax. I'm not sure most of this is really a natural extension of Connie's established character, but at the very least Talia Shire plays her scenes well, convincingly making Michael's sister into a formidable presence.

Vincent Mancini: Andy Garcia's Vincent is a hothead, like his father, and Garcia even borrows a few of James Caan's mannerisms. I don't think Vincent's arc really works - not because of Garcia, who is perfectly fine, but because the script never makes him the focus. In the original movie, Marlon Brando's Vito was all but removed for the middle hour, allowing Al Pacino's Michael to emerge as the main character. The Godfather, Part III is centered entirely around Michael, with everyone else being a supporting character. This leaves little time for Vincent's transformation from short-tempered loose cannon to calculating leader, and as a result I'm unconvinced when he's given (quite literally just given) the title of "Don Corleone" in the final half hour.

Don Altobello: Eli Wallach as an elderly, retired-but-not-retired Sicilian don sounds like casting out of a Mel Brooks movie. I can't help but wonder if Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo couldn't have tweaked the character to make him a Jewish advisor who has gained power through sheer shrewdness; yes, that would be repeating Hyman Roth, but it would also allow the character to fit the casting. That dissonance aside, Wallach's performance is good, the actor turning the character's outward meekness into a thin mask. The more he protests his own powerlessness, his need to "please the world around me," the clearer it becomes that he is one of the most dangerous characters in the story.

Joey Zasa: A flashy mobster who enjoys public attention, winking at his mob status while dismissing it as "fantasy," he's basically a fictionalized John Gotti - and he is easily the movie's most entertaining character. Zasa swaggers into frame, all but openly disrespectful of the Corleones from his first appearance. Michael dismisses him as "small time" - even after Zasa makes his move, Michael knows that he could not have done this alone. In my opinion, Zasa should have been the film's most visible antagonist. Joe Mantegna is excellent, and his character's street-level crudeness is an effective contrast to the more formal demeanor of Michael, let alone the various Vatican officials and Immobiliare execs. This creates friction and energy when he's onscreen, qualities that the movie could have used more of.

B. J. Harrison: Robert Duvall declined to return after receiving what he felt was an insulting offer from Paramount. The new family attorney is George Hamilton's Harrison. The absence of Tom diminishes the movie, as without him there really isn't an equivalent voice to argue against Michael's decisions. Beyond that, there's the inevitable temptation to make fun of George Hamilton for... well, being George Hamilton. But honestly? I think he's pretty good here. Harrison isn't the focus of many scenes (I suspect Tom's role would have been larger), but he's often in the background, watching closely, ready to jump in to forestall awkward questions from a reporter or to express worries about the Immobiliare deal.

Mary Corleone: Winona Ryder was cast as Michael's daughter, only to drop out from nervous exhaustion early in production. This put Francis Ford Coppola in a bind - and he made probably the worst decision possible by replacing her with his daughter, Sofia. Even decades on, I feel bad about pointing out the stilted movements and wooden line deliveries of someone who, after, all, was not a professional actress. Still, this is a released feature film - a tentpole film of its year - and Sofia Coppola's performance harms every scene in which she's the focus. Her father seems at least to have recognized this while editing (even in the longest of the three versions, her total screen time is limited) - but in a story that strives to evoke King Lear, it's a bit of a problem that the dutiful daughter ends up being the weakest single aspect of the entire production.

Michael enjoys a peaceful moment with Kay (Diane Keaton)
and their daughter, Mary (Sofia Coppola).

THOUGHTS:

"The mind suffers and the body cries out... Your sins are terrible, and it is just that you suffer. Your life could be redeemed, but I know that you don't believe that. You will not change."
-Cardinal Lamberto, soon to become Pope John Paul I, hears the confession of Michael Corleone.

The Godfather, Part III has plenty of merit as a film. It's rarely less than entertaining; it's lovely to look at, making fine use of excellent studio sets and real-world locations; it is, with one notable exception, very well acted; and it features a handful of terrific set pieces. Taken on its own terms, this is a good movie.

Unfortunately, it's impossible to simply take it on its own merits. Any "Part III" will, by its very nature, be measured against its predecessors. In this case, both of the preceding entries were genuine American masterpieces. When that's the standard, failure to measure up is basically built in.

Granting that, then, it's almost remarkable how well the first half of this movie works. The script, once again by Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola, draws parallels between organized crime and business. Michael wants to purchase Immobiliare to wash clean his family name. Instead, he finds himself not only the target of criminal rivals, but the victim of a swindle by corrupt forces in both the business world and the Vatican. "They're the true mafia," he spits angrily.

The film is absorbing, sometimes witty, and frequently energetic - at least, while the primary setting remains New York. When the action shifts to Sicily, however, that energy drains away. It remains enjoyable, but it becomes too straight-faced. The characters fall into slow, self-conscious speaking styles. Michael's confession is a wonderfully effective scene... but it would be even moreso if it wasn't surrounded by so many other would-be Shakespearian soliloquies.

Cardinal Lamberto (Raf Vallone) reluctantly accepts his new role as Pope John Paul I.

THEMES TOO BIG FOR THE STORY:

This film is not about its plot. Coppola is far more interested in Michael's regrets and his wish for redemption as he faces the price of the life he's lived. He wants his legacy to go through his biological children, for the Corleone name to be associated with business, charity, and art. However, events make it inevitable that his true legacy will run through Vincent, who is destined to carry on the Corleone crime family. It's intended as a Shakespearian tragedy, which is a worthy vision for the series' final bow.

Too bad, then, that these ideas are tied to this plot. I don't hate the Immobiliare plot. There's cleverness in the way Puzo and Coppola weave in the real-world Vatican Bank scandal and the deaths of two Popes, and it's amusing to see Michael be outmanipulated by so-called "legitimate businessmen." However, the mix of shady business dealings, organized crime, and Vatican conspiracy theories feels like the stuff of airport potboilers. It's like a Dan Brown thriller that got released a decade too soon: The DaVinci Don.

Also, because Coppola's focus really isn't on the pulpy plot mechanics, parts of the story feel underdeveloped, even arbitrary. Michael sends Vincent to his enemies to pretend to betray him. Echoes of Luca Brasi in the original, only Vincent actually manages to persuade them and is welcomed into their ranks. This should lead to scenes of him learning information while avoiding discovery - scenes that would also give a needed boost to Vincent's role and show him having to hold his emotions in check.

This does not occur. Instead, once Vincent enters the enemy fold, his subterfuge is... basically ignored until just before the climax, when he pops up with information - at which point it's been so long unmentioned that, on first viewing, I was actually momentarily thrown until I remembered the existence of this neglected plot point.

Vincent (Andy Garcia) becomes the true inheritor of Michael's legacy.

VERSIONS:

After The Godfather, Part III's theatrical run, Francis Ford Coppola added nine minutes of deleted scenes for the 1991 home video release, labeling it his "Final Director's Cut." For a long time, this was the only version commercially available. It's the basis for this review for two versions: It's my preferred cut; and it's the one that I happen to already own.

In 2020, Coppola revisited it with The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. There are various light trims throughout, and the ending scene is dropped. The most notable change, however, is that it re-structures the opening to start with Michael's offer for Immobiliare, a scene that the previous versions place 40 minutes in.

I can see the argument for this, as it establishes up-front both the story and Michael's hopes to use the business to wash clean his old sins. However, I think the 1990/1991 opening is a better tone-setter, with Michael making an appeal to his children for them and Kay to be more a part of his life. The true focus of the movie is on Michael's regrets and his desire to steer his legacy away from crime; the newer cut instead directs viewers to the plot, a plot that is often neglected by the movie that follows.

It should be noted that mine is a minority opinion: The Godafther Coda is widely regarded as more focused and better paced. It ultimately makes little difference, though, whether you're watching the 1990 theatrical cut, the 1991 director's cut, or the 2020 re-edit. All three are ultimately the same movie, with the same virtues and failings, in every variant.


OVERALL:

The Godfather, Part III is flawed, but it's far from the disaster some Godfather fans have labeled it. I think critics at the time had it about right: It's intermittently compelling with some terrific set pieces and worthy themes. It's rarely less than enjoyable, and it's extremely well-made. It simply has the misfortune to be an above-average crime drama trapped in the shadow of two masterpieces.

It's worth watching - but it's also a movie to watch with suitably tempered expectations.


Rating: 7/10.

Preceded by: The Godfather, Part II

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1974: The Godfather, Part II.

Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) finds it hard to live in
the shadow of his late father, Vito (Robert DeNiro).

Release Date: Dec. 12, 1974. Running Time: 200 minutes. Screenplay by: Francis Ford Coppola, Mario Puzo. Based on the novel, The Godfather, by: Mario Puzo. Producer: Francis Ford Coppola. Director: Francis Ford Coppola.


THE PLOT:

Sicily, 1901. Antonio Andolini is killed after defying Don Ciccio (Giuseppe Sillato) and his 9-year-old son, Vito, is forced to flee the country. Confusion at Ellis Island results in him being renamed "Vito Corleone." He settles in an Italian immigrant community in New York, working an honest job and eventually marrying and starting a family. He is poor but reasonably happy - until local big shot Don Fanucci (Gastone Moschin) costs him his job and then extorts him. Vito sees only one solution that will allow him to protect his family and retain his own dignity, an action that sets in motion his ascent to head of the largest crime family in New York.

Las Vegas, 1958. Vito's son, Michael Corleone (Al Pacino), has secured his position as head of the Corleone Family. He has moved his family to Nevada, where he hopes that his financial stake in several hotels and casinos will enable him to make the Family entirely legitimate, fulfilling both his promise to his wife, Kay (Diane Keaton), and his own original intention to stay away from a life of crime.

The centerpiece of his plan is a massive business deal with Hyman Roth (Lee Strasberg), an old associate of his father's who is attracting investors for development in Havana, Cuba. Keeping this deal on track requires turning a blind eye to the aggression of some of Roth's associates, angering Frank Pentangeli (Michael V. Gazzo), the successor to Peter Clemenza.

An attempt is made on Michael's life mere hours after he rejects Pentangeli's complaints. Michael knows that the architect of the hit was Hyman Roth. But he also knows that someone inside the Family must be working with him. Michael is left with increasingly few people to trust as he is faced not just with disruption of carefully laid plans, but with the very real prospect that he could lose everything he holds dear!

Michael realizes that he's been betrayed by one of the increasingly few people he trusts.

AL PACINO AS DON MICHAEL CORLEONE:

By the end of the first film, Michael had walled off anything in himself that might be considered "weak" in the process of adopting the mantle of "Don Corleone." This had to pose a challenge for Al Pacino for the sequel, because this movie requires him to start from that end point and carry it even further. The first film saw him suppressing what little warmth remained in him; the second film sees the remaining embers entirely extinguished.

One way both the script and Pacino manage to show this shift is by seizing on moments of warmth in the first half. He apologizes to Kay for having to associate with mafia figures at the initial gathering, promising that he's still trying to legitimize the Family (for the record, I think he's lying to himself more than to her). After the attempt on his life, he makes Tom acting don, calling him a "brother" and expressing full faith and confidence in him. In Havana, he commiserates with Fredo about how hard it is to live in their father's enormous shadow.

After the Roth deal implodes, the second half revisits each of these relationships, and we see that the previous hints of warmth are gone. Michael snaps at Tom, going so far as to directly question his loyalty near the end. He refuses to listen to Kay, shutting her out first figuratively and, eventually, literally. He insists on bringing Fredo back to the compound, only to tell him, "You're nothing to me now."

Pacino is masterful throughout. He shows genuine love for his family, albeit heavily suppressed, in the first half. After Michael is betrayed and after the failure in Cuba, he changes entirely. The coldness remains a surface, his soft and even tones still covering strong emotion - only now the emotion he's suppressing is rage. He is angry at everyone around him, most of all himself.

Vito Corleone prepares to make Don Fanucci "an offer he don't refuse."

ROBERT DE NIRO AS DON VITO CORLEONE:

Vito's rise to power is expanded from one of the few major pieces of Mario Puzo's novel not to have been included in the first film. I think these scenes are the true heart of this movie. Michael's story on its own would be too cold to retain viewer engagement. The cutaways to Vito inject warmth and a hint of humor.

Vito doesn't shy away from violence, but he is a caring man at his core. He disapproves of Fanucci, wondering why an Italian would use his influence to bully other Italians. When he gains power, we see him using it with generosity, such as when he pressures a slumlord to not only revoke a widow's eviction but to lower her rent as well.

Over the course of the movie, Vito gathers a close circle of friends and family, young versions of the same inner circle that surrounded him in the first Godfather, such as Clemenza and Tessio. In the 1950s thread, meanwhile, Michael sheds the people closest to him. Vito's final scene has him departing on a train with his family in tow; Michael's final scene sees him sitting entirely alone.

Robert DeNiro's performance respects Marlon Brando's original, but it isn't an imitation. He borrows the vocal rasp and a few mannerisms, but DeNiro otherwise creates his own interpretation of Vito, one that brings the character to life.

Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) pays a visit to Frank Pentangeli (Michael V. Gazzo).

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Tom Hagen: He is unwavering in his loyalty to Michael, and he's genuinely touched when Michael refers to him as his brother. This twists the knife all the harder when Michael becomes increasingly short with him in the second half. Tom argues against Michael's ending orders as being vindictive and, worse, pointless. He remains loyal, as he has always been, but he's left to feel less like "Family" and more like a simple employee. When he talks with Pentangeli, the other man compares the Corleone Family to the Roman Empire. Tom agrees that "it was once," his phrasing showing recognition of a decline.

Kay Adams Corleone: As the movie opens, she's still a loving wife trying to accept her husband's less savory qualities and to believe him when he promises change. After the assassination attempt, she stops believing. As she and their children sit, waiting as the compound is searched, she directs a glare at Michael. I think that glare marks the moment that she begins emotionally disengaging from him. On this viewing, I find myself questioning whether she's telling the truth when she makes the declaration that repels Michael. She only says it after it's clear that he has no intention of letting her leave him. I'm not saying this was the intent - but I could see it being possible that she chooses a lie that would kill his feelings for her just so that he'll let her go.

Fredo Corleone: The first half stresses a closeness between him and Michael that was mostly unseen in the first movie. In a rare human moment, Michael lends emotional support as Fredo mulls living in their father's shadow, and he entrusts Fredo with bringing a cash payment to Hyman Roth. Later, Fredo lets show his resentment at being passed over in favor of Michael: "You're my kid brother, and you take care of me. Did you ever think about that? ...I can handle things. I'm smart. Not like everyone says, not dumb, smart! And I want respect!" John Cazale briefly out-acts Al Pacino in this moment, shaking with impotent rage, his gestures uncontrolled spasms that show his weakness even as he vents the frustration of wanting to be seen as strong.

Frank Pentangeli: Richard Castellano declined to return as Clemenza, whether because of salary or a desire for control over his dialogue or a reluctance to regain lost weight. Whatever the case, while young Clemenza (a spot-on Bruno Kirby) plays a major role in the story of Vito's rise, in the movie's present Clemenza has had a suspicious heart attack, leaving Frank Pentangeli (Michael V. Gazzo) in charge of his territory. Pentangeli fills the role that would have been Clemenza's, clashing loudly with Michael only to be left to fear that Michael has now turned on him. There's no question this would be more effective with Clemenza, not least because of the younger Clemenza's prominence in the flashbacks, but Michael V. Gazzo plays the role well and his scenes work.

Hyman Roth: Roth never passes up an opportunity to compliment Michael, and he makes a public show of making the younger man his successor - but the more he talks about his own ill health, the more Michael realizes that the old man intends to live forever. "He's been dying of the same heart attack for twenty years." Roth clings to the same refrain about "business" that pervaded the first movie, and it's still a lie. His motives for acting against Michael are entirely personal, as he reveals in a scene in which actor Lee Strasberg allows the genial front to drop away, revealing white hot fury. He outplays Michael, using a Senate hearing as a backup plan to strike against him if assassination fails, and is in general the embodiment of the saying, "Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young."

Sonny Corleone: James Caan appears in a single flashback, for which he received the same salary as the entirety of the first film. He just about earns that payday, seemingly effortlessly recreating the character while cranking up his screen presence to cover for the absence of an originally-intended Marlon Brando cameo. The scene shows the final family celebration before the war. The interactions as Sonny holds court strike another contrast against Michael's reign. Sonny argues with multiple people around the table, but everyone's relaxed, the people around the table feeling like a family. It's the one way in which Sonny actually would have been a better leader than Michael, if only he was less impulsive; he draws people to him, while Michael can only keep them in line through fear.

"I want respect!" Fredo (John Cazale) lashes out at his brother.

THOUGHTS:

"All our people are businessmen. Their loyalty's based on that. One thing I learned from Pop was to try to think as people around you think, and on that basis, anything is possible."
-Michael speculates about an attempt on his life as he cedes control of the Family to Tom.

There's an ongoing argument as to which is the better Godfather movie. It's a meaningless question, because while the two movies are stylistically similar, they are starkly different works. The first Godfather tells a perfectly structured story that ends with a satisfying climax. The second Godfather is messier and less intrinsically satisfying, growing more emotionally remote as it approaches its end. As a movie to watch, the first one is a lot more engaging; as a movie to think about, the second one is a larger work that offers more to chew on after its end.

The Godfather, Part II opens with a recreation of the first film's final scene, as petitioners pay homage to the new "Don Corleone." We see a close-up of Michael's face. Then the movie cuts to his father's empty chair. It is over that chair that the title finally comes up, emphasizing the absence of the man who actually deserved the monicker, "Godfather."

Michael's story, particularly after the Intermission, seems deliberately designed to push viewers away from him as he grows colder and more isolated. The first movie ended in a masterstroke as Michael consolidated his power. There's nothing comparable here, with Michael's final orders amounting to petty revenge that no longer serves any purpose. There's no sense of a climax - Just ugly incidents that clear Michael's board of a few remaining opposing pieces after the game has already been won.

In the first movie, Vito bristled at the undertaker thinking they were murderers. Vito insisted on using only the amount of violence that a given situation called for. By the end of the second movie, Michael has all but claimed the moniker of "murderer," telling Tom: "I don't feel I have to wipe everyone out. Just my enemies, that's all."

Vito and his family celebrate Fourth of July.

Francis Ford Coppola was at the height of his powers as a filmmaker, and The Godfather, Part II was the second of two masterpieces he released in 1974 (after The Conversation, a low-key thriller that is every bit as brilliant as this). I already discussed his mastery of frame composition and camera movements in my review of the first Godfather, and that remains just as true of the sequel.

The flashbacks to Vito are slightly but visibly sepia-tinted, which lends the impression of historical photographs come to life. Vito is frequently framed surrounded by either his direct family or his friends, like Clemenza, who will become Family. By contrast, even early in the film, Michael is shown wearing cold colors and is frequently framed alone. After Cuba, he almost exclusively dresses in black. His office is dimly lit, leaving him draped in shadows. He has few outside scenes after the Intermission and, by the end, he's frequently shot either through or against windows, as if to erect a barrier between him and the world and even between him and the viewer.

In the first Godfather, Michael tried to avoid involvement in the Corleone Family, only getting drawn in to save his father from those who would have killed him. He turned to crime to protect his family, just as we see Vito doing in the past. In the second film, Michael becomes ever more powerful... but in so doing, he fulfills the very worry he expresses to his mother: "By being strong for his family, could he lose it? ...Lose his family?" Alone and feeling betrayed by everyone, he surrenders the reasons that he sought power for the sake of power itself.

It's a haunting story, beautifully told... but if not for the Vito segments, I suspect it might be too bleak. It's ironic that Francis Ford Coppola would later reissue the final film in the trilogy as, "The Death of Michael Corleone"; to all intents, Michael the person dies here, leaving behind only the husk that is "Don Corleone."

Sonny Corleone (James Caan) holds court at the last family celebration before World War II.

SEQUEL AND ALTERNATE VERSION:

In 1990, Francis Ford Coppola directed The Godfather, Part III. Though its reputation has nose-dived, it was reasonably well-received at the time. Reviewers didn't pretend that it was a patch on the first two movies, but they acknowledged it as a well-made film in its own right. I haven't seen it since the 1990s, so I will withhold judgment until I rewatch it - and I will be taking a sidestep from Best Picture Winners to round out the trilogy with The Godfather, Part III, as a supplemental post.

When I covered the first Godfather, I noted the television mini-series version of the first two movies that was titled, The Godfather Saga. This version recuts the entire narrative into strict chronological order, restoring many deleted scenes in the process. This means the first "episode" of the mini-series is mostly made up of the DeNiro footage from this movie, which is not the optimal way to watch it. There is a continuous arc in Vito's tale, so it just about works as a narrative piece in its own right. However, the re-editing destroys the contrast between Vito's rise and Michael's moral fall, and it renders the final "episode" into a grim death march as Michael becomes ever more alone, without the Vito scenes to counteract that.

I would label the mini-series as interesting and worth viewing after seeing both movies in their original form - but even more so than with the first movie, I think the original release is by far the best way to watch The Godfather, Part II.


OVERALL:

The Godfather was an American masterpiece. Remarkably, co-writer/director Francis Ford Coppola manages to repeat that with the sequel. It's an emotionally colder work, matching its remote protagonist, and it's less immediately satisfying than its predecessor - but it's also a rich and compelling work, one that lingers in the mind long after viewing.


Rating: 10/10.

Preceded by: The Godfather
Followed by: The Godfather, Part III

Best Picture - 1973: The Sting
Best Picture - 1975: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

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1973: The Sting.

Con artists Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) and Johnny
Hooker (Robert Redford) find themselves in a sticky situation...

Release Date: Dec. 25, 1973. Running Time: 129 minutes. Written by: David S. Ward. Producer: Tony Bill, Michael Phillips, Julia Phillips. Director: George Roy Hill.


THE PLOT:

Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) is a talented small-time grifter who has learned from the best around in his Depression-era tenement: aging con artist Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones). After they swindle an unsuspecting mark out of $11 thousand, Luther decides it's time to retire, urging Hooker to use his talents to work "the big con."

Then disaster strikes. Their mark was actually working for a numbers running operation, and he was delivering that money to the ruthless Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw). Soon Luther is dead, and Hooker is left on the run - and with a burning desire to avenge his murdered mentor.

He looks up Luther's old friend, Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman). Once a master confidence man, Gondorff is now hiding from the FBI after a job gone wrong. But he still has his skills, knowledge, and contacts, and Lonnegan has enough wealth to be a tempting target... as long as they can pull off a con that will not only part the criminal with his money, but also keep him fooled so that he doesn't go after them.

With Gondorff's circle of veteran con men assisting, it doesn't take long to set a scheme in motion. But complications await: A corrupt cop (Charles Durning) nurses a grudge against Hooker; an FBI agent (Dana Elcar) is closing in on Gondorff; and Lonnegan's hit men are getting ever nearer. The smart thing to do would be to call the whole thing off - but that's the one thing Hooker isn't willing to do, regardless of the consequences.

Hooker baits Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).

CHARACTERS:

Gondorff: "Revenge is for suckers. I've been grifting thirty years, I never got any." By this point in his career, Paul Newman was moving toward character roles. He doesn't so much act the role of Gondorff as inhabit him, which perfectly suits the way the script treats the character. The viewer is never told who Gondorff is, but is instead left to observe him. What we see is a sort of grifter general, assigning roles to the various soldiers in his team. He watches events unfold, making notes about what problems will need solved. He's an excellent judge of character. He senses Lonnegan's weakness is his pride, and he exploits that by repeatedly insulting and belittling him over the game of poker that is the con's "hook." He also senses that Hooker isn't telling him everything, and he chides him for that: "You can't play your friends like marks."

Hooker: The main character, Hooker isn't a complete neophyte. He may be a small time grifter, but he's talented enough that Luther urges him to look up Gondorff. This makes him enough a part of the grifting world for it to be believable that he's a key part of the big con, but also enough of an outsider for Gondorff and his friends to relate exposition about their planned swindle to us through him. He's the character with the biggest emotional stake in the story. Gondorff was also Luther's friend, but he scorns the very idea of revenge, while Hooker is driven by a need to do something to Lonnegan, wanting to con him because "I don't know enough about killing to kill him."

Lonnegan: Robert Shaw is one of those mystifying cases of a great actor who appeared in multiple classics, and who somehow never won an Oscar. Lonnegan could have been a two-dimensional baddie, but Shaw puts layers into his malevolence. There's genuine menace in his glare, his growling voice, and even his movements, as if his every waking moment is a struggle to hold himself back from direct violence. Pride is his defining trait and his biggest weakness. This is a man who likely endured a plethora of insults in his youth, and he reacts angrily to even the suggestion of an insult now. He insists on killing Hooker less because he's worried about seeming vulnerable, even though that's the motive he claims, and more because he, himself, cannot abide the thought of having lost to "one lousy grifter."

Lt. Snyder: Actor Charles Durning would play variations on this role a lot: a corrupt, none-too-bright authority figure. When Snyder learns about the score Luther and Hooker pulled off, he immediately shakes down the young con artist, demanding a share under threat of tipping off Lonnegan. Hooker foists him off with some counterfeit bills, earning the policeman's wrath for the rest of the picture. Snyder is regarded scornfully by everyone: Hooker, Gondorff's girlfriend (Eileen Brennan), and the FBI all blow him off as a fool - but his proximity to the con and his knowledge of Hooker mean that he's not a fool who can simply be ignored.

The Gang: Though they're supporting players, each member of Gondorff's inner circle receives a few choice moments to contribute not only to the title sting, but also to the film's entertainment value. Harold Gould's Kid Twist is a consummate actor, at one point showing up in overalls to pass himself off as a painter to get into a banker's office, then unzipping the overalls to emerge in a business suit to adopt the role of a timid executive. Ray Walston's J. J. Singleton is entertaining every time he appears, and I particularly enjoyed his glee as he talks about Lonnegan's habit of cheating at cards. John Heffernan's Niles looks like an office worker, and he's enlisted to the con while actually working in a bank. Jack Kehoe's Erie was another of Luther's students, and he is as eager as Hooker to contribute to bringing down Lonnegan. Cumulatively, these characters round out the cast and help to bring this world to life.

Hooker and Luther (Robert Earl Jones) discover just how big a score they've made.
They don't realize how dangerous an enemy they've made at the same time.

THOUGHTS:

As much as I enjoy The Sting - which is a lot - it would not have been my choice as 1973's Best Picture. The Exorcist was just as meticulously produced and just as well acted, and it was clear even at the time that it was destined to leave a cultural impact. Even among films that weren't nominated, I'd point to Fred Zinnemann's excellent film of Frederick Forsyth's The Day of the Jackal, which more or less created the "lone assassin" subgenre as we know it. In my opinion, either of those titles would have been a better choice as Best Picture.

But as I've said before, another movie being more deserving doesn't represent a fault in the winning movie. The Sting is a great Hollywood entertainment. It features big stars at their most charming in a witty romp that creates excitement less through action than through expert plotting. It's the type of film that, after a viewing, almost demands a regretful sigh of, "They don't make them like that anymore."

It's been about twenty years since I last watched this, but I remembered the major twists. Given how much of this movie is built around double-crosses, reversals, and surprises, I had expected that it would lose something on rewatch. Oddly, I think I enjoyed it more this time around. The screenplay doesn't cheat. Each of the plot turns is carefully set up in a way that doesn't telegraph them for first-time viewers, but that is visible on rewatch. This makes it fun to spot these moments as they occur.

Gondorff's inner circle reviews information and plans their big con.

The script is superbly structured. It opens not with the con artists, but with the numbers operation, following the initial mark to his fateful encounter with Luther and Hooker. This allows the viewer to share the experience of being conned, with the viewpoint only switching to Hooker's after the money has changed hands. It also foreshadows what will happen next; we know before Hooker and Luther do that their ill-gotten cash is from organized crime, creating tension for the viewer even as the next couple of scenes provide exposition.

Luther steers Hooker to Gondorff, so that the veteran confidence man is expecting his new protégé even before the violence. The first sight of Gondorff is also the only time that he's completely unkempt, sleeping off a drunken stupor. The indication is that keeping a low profile, not engaging in cons, is leaving him directionless. As soon as he has a target, he becomes instantly sharper, his attitude and entire physical bearing changing from slovenly to focused. These scenes also establish that Gondorff is hiding from the FBI, laying groundwork for the FBI agent to enter the story in the final third.

I won't discuss more of the plot for fear of accidentally spoiling or hinting at things. I will say that there isn't any wasted space. Scenes are allowed to play out as long as needed, and there is a nice reflective moment just before the big finale. Still, every scene - including that moment of reflection - does something to advance the story.

Production values are impeccable, and the music score - composer Marvin Hamlisch's adaptations of Scott Joplin's ragtime compositions - elevates the sense of setting while being a perfect accompaniment to the action. All the individual pieces here are good, and they are put together to form a terrifically entertaining whole.

An establishing shot of 1930s Chicago displays the impeccable production values,
which are nowhere to be found in the ill-advised, cheap-looking sequel.

SEQUEL:

1983's The Sting II had a script from David S. Ward, the writer of the original film... and that's about all that can be said in its favor. I can't find a record of its budget, but I'm guessing it was much cheaper. In contrast to the original's production values, the sequel looks like a mid-1980s TV flick, and not even one of the event ones. Also, Paul Newman and Robert Redford are replaced with Jackie Gleason and Mac Davis as "Fargo Gondorff" and "Jake Hooker." I love Gleason, even if by the '80s his best days were behind him, but him as a recast for Newman is more than a slight head-scratcher.

Likely sensing the flack they would get for the downgrade, the studio attempted to publicize these as new characters - but given that they had the same basic personalities and relationships, and that the entire story revolved around Lonnegan (Oliver Reed, taking over for the late Robert Shaw) getting revenge for being conned, the claim doesn't stand up to much scrutiny.

It opened to savage reviews, and I suspect it should stay as it is now: a mostly forgotten footnote that simply shouldn't have been attempted.

Hooker indulges in a moment of reflection on the eve of the big con.

OVERALL:

I don't really think it deserved the award, but I also don't mind that it won. It's rare that something lighthearted wins Best Picture, so it's always pleasant to encounter such a film in this review series. Besides, this is a very good picture, benefitting from an outstanding production, a terrific script, and fine actors who are all in top form.

Most of all, it's just a fun time at the movies.


Rating: 8/10.

Best Picture - 1972: The Godfather
Best Picture - 1974: The Godfather, Part II

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1972: The Godfather.

Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) hears petitions on the day of his daughter's wedding.

Release Date: Mar. 14, 1972. Running Time: 175 minutes. Screenplay: Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola. Based on the novel by: Mario Puzo. Producer: Albert S. Ruddy. Director: Francis Ford Coppola.


THE PLOT:

Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) is the don of the Corleone Family, the most powerful of the organized crime families operating in New York, 1945. Vito has police, judges, and politicians on his payroll, with rising mob figure Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) observing that he carries them "in (his) pocket, like so many nickels and dimes." When Sollozzo asks Vito to provide protection while he sets up a narcotics distribution network, Vito refuses, fearing that his contacts "wouldn't be friendly very long" if his business shifted to include drugs.

Sollozzo is not a man to take "no" for an answer, and Vito is shot not long after. He survives - just barely - but his recovery will be long, leaving his short-fused eldest son, Santino "Sonny" Corleone (James Caan), in charge. Against the advice of family consigliere Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall), Sonny goes to war with Sollozzo and his sponsors, the Tattaglia Family.

Caught in the middle is Michael (Al Pacino), Vito's youngest son. Michael forged a separate path, joining the army and becoming a hero during World War II. He has a non-Italian girlfriend, Kay (Diane Keaton), and he's emphatic that he wants no part of the family business. But as it becomes clear that his father is still a target for the Corleones' enemies, he realizes that he has only one way to save the old man and give the family space to negotiate peace: Kill Sollozzo himself!

Vito negotiates with his rivals.

MARLON BRANDO AS DON VITO CORLEONE:

Rarely do I think that a role had to be played by a particular actor, no matter how well the casting worked out, but I cannot imagine anyone other than Marlon Brando as Vito Corleone. Vito's actual screen time is limited, yet the nature of the story requires that he be its dominant figure. Brando makes this look effortless. When he's on screen, you can't take your eyes off him. When he's not (which is most of the time), his absence is equally tangible.

Much of this comes from sheer physical presence, along with excellent use of makeup and costuming. Vito takes care with his appearance, his thin hair slicked back and his mustache perfectly trimmed. He dresses impeccably, and he's almost always seen in some form of suit and tie, from the formal wear at his daughter's wedding to business suits in more casual settings. The only time he's untidy is when he's recovering from being shot, barely back on his feet. Even in this diminished condition, when he meets with someone outside the family less than an hour later, he is again wearing a suit and tie.

Brando is excellent. The voice he uses is perfectly judged: quiet and slow, reflecting the don's care in choosing each word. Vito initially seems to be an unknowable cipher - until he's alone with trusted members of his family, when he gives tiny rolls of his eyes or little exhales of weariness to show his exhaustion at the parade of petitioners. This reveals his humanity, with flashes of humor and annoyance, which makes it fully consistent when he gets a couple of larger emotional moments later. He has one line, about how a person close to him was "massacred," that is spoken with naked emotion that would be effective on its own, and that is made all the more powerful by its contrast with Vito's normal soft reserve.

It's a great performance on its own. It's also one of the very few times that I think a piece of film casting was not just well-advised, but indispensable to the success of the movie (so of course Coppola had to fight the studio to cast him).

Michael Corleone (Al Pacino), glaring coldly while attending a funeral.

AL PACINO AS MICHAEL CORLEONE:

"That's my family, Kay, it's not me."

Though Vito is the movie's center of gravity, Michael is its true main character, and he has the most significant arc. He shares stories with Kay about his father's business, being open with her about where he comes from. That openness drops away as the story unfolds. When it becomes clear that his father will remain in danger as long as Sollozzo lives, he's the one who devises the plan to kill him - a plan that depends on their enemies seeing him as a non-threatening "civilian."

This was Al Pacino's starmaking role, and he's mesmerizing. His performance is characterized by stillness. The scene in which he lays out the plan for Sonny and Tom is when he takes control, and he does so quietly. He sits in the center of frame, barely moving as he lays out his plan, step by careful step. The camera moves slowly in on him until we're right in front of his eyes, which are cold and focused.

Pacino does a lot of acting with his eyes. In the scene in which Michael carries out the shooting, Michael seems to hesitate. His eyes dart about wildly as Sollozzo speaks (in Italian, untranslated), until the moment finally comes to take action. He shoots Sollozzo before moving onto the second target - and it's then, as he shoots the second man, that his eyes display all of the character's rage.

It's a performance that's both complementary to and in contrast with Brando's. Pacino's Michael has his father's patience and tactical sense. But Vito is a warm figure, particularly around his family. By the time Michael is actively working with The Family, his few flashes of warmth are reserved only for his father. He is cold to everyone else, trusted advisors and siblings as well as rivals. At one point, he warns one of his brothers, "Don't ever take sides with anyone against the Family again." The threat is all the more chilling for his absolute lack of visible emotion.

Sonny (James Caan) is too impulsive to be a good leader.

JAMES CAAN AS SANTINO "SONNY" CORLEONE:

"Never tell anybody outside the Family what you're thinking!"

Vito snaps this to Sonny, trying to impart a lesson, but he's asking the impossible. Throughout the movie, Sonny's every emotion is written on his face and clearly audible in his voice. Sonny isn't stupid, but he is governed by impulse. This, in combination with a lack of patience to think before acting, makes his reactions predictable and thus easily manipulated.

James Caan makes his Sonny the opposite of Pacino's Michael. Pacino is still, speaking with little emotion and acting with his eyes. Caan is almost constantly in motion, pacing the room like a trapped animal. He acts with his hands, gesturing with almost every word he speaks. Because his emotions are so open, his Sonny has the warmth that Pacino's Michael lacks. One senses that, in happier times, he's likely as generous to his friends as he is dangerous to his enemies.

He has a close bond with his adopted brother, Tom Hagen. He's the one who found Tom and brought him into the Corleone family. Even when they clash, Sonny is quick to flare up, but equally quick to apologize. These qualities and Caan's performance make him more likable than his actions would suggest... but he's not cut out to be a leader, and Vito later acknowledges as much.

The Corleones pose for a family photo at Connie's wedding.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Tom Hagen: Though not a Corleone by blood, he was raised by Vito, and his personality seems to halve the difference between Michael and Sonny. Like Michael, he is calm and patient. He lacks Michael's tactical shrewdness, but he is able to recognize the complicated realities of a given situation. Unlike Michael, he isn't cold. Even as he advises caution in responding to Vito's shooting, he is visibly shaken by what's happened. When another tragedy strikes, he has to stop and pour himself a drink before reporting it, and he seems to be just barely holding himself back from tears. Robert Duvall is more contained than Caan and less intense than Pacino, but he's every bit as good as them. He's more often than not in the background, but he reacts to other people's words - or, in some cases, carefully not reacting.

Clemenza: We first hear his name when Vito, after agreeing to provide "justice" to the undertaker, tells Tom to assign that job to him, with Clemenza (Richard Castellano) chosen specifically because he doesn't want this taken care of by someone who will go overboard. This shows that Vito trusts his judgment as much as his loyalty. Clemenza presents a casual front, giving Michael an impromptu cooking lesson during a crisis and chatting about how "they should have stopped Hitler at Munich." This is probably his authentic personality, but he uses it to his advantage. He puts a victim at ease with banter during a car ride, then has the man pull over so that he can "take a leak" while the hit is carried out. His loyalty to Vito definitely extends to Sonny, but he's more wary of Michael, seeming to see the youngest Corleone son as weak.

Sollozzo: The most visible villain of the piece, though it's made clear from the start that he has powerful backers and that he's not really in charge. Vito grants him a meeting as a sign of respect to "a serious man." When Tom reads his background to Vito, he observes that Sollozzo uses violence "only in matters of business or some sort of reasonable complaint." When he tells Michael that he respects his father, he means it... but he also means it when he says that Vito is "slipping." Al Lettieri feels absolutely authentic in the role, and he presents just the right amount of a threat: Enough to be taken seriously, but not quite enough to ever feel like the Corleones' true adversary.

Kay: Michael's girlfriend, Kay (Diane Keaton) is the perfect embodiment of middle America: well-educated and independent enough to push back when Michael goes to work for his father, but not so independent that she doesn't allow him to take charge. She shows flashes of a strong will, but she also comes across as sheltered and more than a little naive. Her role is very much a supporting one (if memory serves, she gets more in the sequel), but Diane Keaton does some excellent nonverbal acting in two scenes: when Kay passes a newsstand and sees that Vito has been shot; and at the very end, as she realizes exactly who Michael has become.

Connie/Fredo: The remaining Corleone siblings. Connie (Talia Shire) seems a lot like Sonny, reacting to situations with strong emotion instead of stopping and thinking. Not surprisingly, she seems to have a very close relationship with Sonny, far more so than with Michael. Fredo (John Cazale, excellent as always) is the weakest of the Corleone children. He has poor judgment, giving trust to the wrong people on two occasions. He's emotional, weeping openly when Vito is shot. Later, after he's sent to Las Vegas to keep him away from the conflict, he comes to fancy himself a big shot - and he's likely the only person in the room who doesn't realize how pathetically unearned his swagger really is.

Vito reflects upon his life to Michael.

THOUGHTS:

"I worked my whole life, I don't apologize, to take care of my family. And I refused to be a fool, dancing on a string held by all those big shots. I don't apologize, that's my life."
-Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando), talking about his life, expresses both regret and defiance.

The Godfather is all but undisputed as one of the "great films" of American cinema. Its plot really isn't anything special - with slight adjustments, the same story could have been told in the mid-1940s in which the movie's set, and the result likely would have been an entertaining 90-minute programmer. What makes it special is the way all the elements come together to form something larger, from the impeccable period detail to the casting to composer Nino Rota's instantly recognizable main theme. All the individual parts are good, and the whole that they build is even greater.

This is a movie featuring Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, and Robert Duvall - and it's a movie in which all of them give performances that rank among their best. The actors are well-cast, feeling convincing as members of the same family. When Al Pacino, James Caan, and Robert Duvall interact, I don't feel like I'm being told that they're brothers - I can see that they are, and that each has his own individual relationship with the others.

Beyond the acting, this is a remarkably cinematic film. Each frame is beautifully lit and shot. You can find long essays about the way The Godfather uses light and shadow to convey characters' shifts in morality. Francis Ford Coppola kicked off his greatest period as a director here, and he's in absolute control of his craft.

The scene in which Michael proposes the plan to kill Sollozzo is a particular example. The scene begins with its focus on Sonny and Tom, drawing attention to them as they argue in loud voices and with strong gestures. Then Michael speaks up - softly, calmly. The camera slowly moves to him, sitting still in a chair in the center of the room. The contrast of his stillness versus the others' motion makes him an instantly compelling presence. Tom moves to the opposite side of the room, so that Michael is between him and Sonny, and he agrees when Michael says that Sollozzo will keep trying to kill their father.

Sonny tries to regain control by mocking his brother, but Michael doesn't take the bait. The camera creeps in as he lays out his plan, ending on his eyes, which are pure ice. All the pieces - staging, acting, lighting, camera - come together in this moment, a significant one: Not only does Michael move from being outside the Family to inside it, he also is transformed from a member of the movie's ensemble to its central character.

Throughout the film, Coppola and his production team continue to use cinematic techniques in this way to complement each beat of the script. No visual flourish is ever "just" a flourish. Even in the justly famous climax, it never just feels like Coppola is showing off. Every shot, every music choice, every cut and line and bit of staging is there to support the story being told.

Michael comes up with a plan, in the scene that transforms him into the movie's main character.

"IT'S NOT PERSONAL, SONNY. IT'S STRICTLY BUSINESS."

The characters insist on a separation between what's "personal" and what's "business," but this divide is never successfully maintained. At Connie's wedding, Don Vito Corleone takes a parade of requests, mere yards from where his guests are celebrating. The FBI takes photos of the license plates of the guests, while Don Barzini (Richard Conte) rips up the film of a wedding photographer who made the mistake of taking his picture.

The blurring of "personal" and "business" is shown throughout. Corleone family issues that would be counted as "personal" are used by rivals to manipulate Sonny. When Michael lays out his plan, Sonny scoffs that he's "taking this very, very personal." Michael calmly denies it - but when he shoots Sollozzo and a second target, the anger in his eyes shows that Sonny wasn't actually wrong. Assassins later attempt to kill Michael and end up killing someone else - inflicting a "personal" loss while conducting "business." Michael later does the same on a larger scale, using a personal function to "settle all Family business."

The characters may insist that there is separation, but the opposite is what is shown (to sometimes tragic effect)... and, more than once, the people insisting that this divide exists are doing so with absolute, self-serving hypocrisy.

Michael visits middle brother Fredo (John Cazale) in Las Vegas.

SEQUELS AND AN ALTERNATE VERSION:

Gangster pictures were nothing new, having been a mainstay of 1930s and '40s cinema. The Godfather revitalized the genre by combining period and cultural authenticity with an almost operatic quality. It draws the viewer into its world, one that feels both real and larger-than-life at the same time - and moviegoers responded, resulting in it becoming the highest grossing film of 1972.

Naturally, a sequel followed two years later... and would itself go on to win Best Picture, so I'll be discussing it fairly soon. A third entry, The Godfather, Part III, came out more than 15 years later; though it proved to be a financial success, it is almost universally regarded as far weaker than the two 1970s movies.

An alternate version was released to television as a 1977 mini-series, The Godfather Saga. Authorized by Francis Ford Coppola in large part to raise more money for Apocalypse Now, this version re-edits the first two Godfather movies, rearranging them into strictly chronological order, while also integrating many deleted scenes.

It's worth a watch after viewing the two movies individually, but I consider the theatrical films superior. Amerigo Bonasera's, "I believe in America," and Connie's wedding create the perfect introduction to this world; and while the deleted scenes are interesting to see, most of them were cut for good reason.

Vito and Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall) comfort each other after a family tragedy.

OVERALL:

The Godfather runs just shy of three hours, but it never feels long. The individual filmmaking elements combine with meticulous period detail to create a world that we're drawn into. The film's world is absolutely consistent. At no point does anything jar us out of the internal reality. From the opening minutes, we are immersed in this particular time, place, and culture.

The result has been justifiably labeled a cinematic masterpiece. It's a movie that anyone who genuinely loves film should see, and probably more than once.


Rating: 10/10.

Followed by: The Godfather, Part II

Best Picture - 1971: The French Connection
Best Picture - 1973: The Sting

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