The Godfather & The Godfather, Part II
Taken together, Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather” and its first sequel, “The Godfather, Part II” are the greatest tragedy ever filmed in American cinema. Why is “The Godfather, Part III” not included? I’ll discuss the reasons when I review that film in the future. But the first two films in Coppola’s trilogy are a complete story of the rise and fall of an American empire; in this case, Mario Puzo’s Corleone crime family. By the end of “The Godfather, Part II,” we have seen Don Corleone’s rise to power as an Italian immigrant; his death, and the rise of his son, Michael, to the head of the family; and then we see Michael’s moral corruption as he wields his power with an iron fist, and removes himself completely from the counsel of everyone that has ever meant something to him, even his own family. Only Charles Foster Kane and Daniel Plainview, the oil tycoon from “There Will Be Blood,” have been more isolated when they thought they’ve had everything.
How can we continue to watch Coppola’s films over the years, with their “heroes” being criminals and ruthless killers, and have them feel like our own family at times? I think it’s because, while we would condemn their actions in real life, on-screen, we can feel comfortable accepting the family as it is, without passing lasting judgement on them, or putting our own lives in danger by associating with them.
I don’t think that’s the only reason we revisit these films again and again, however. Obviously, there are the considerable artistic qualities in both technical and performance areas, but I think there’s something more at work here. At its core, the films represent values that we can identify with: loyalty to family and friends; personal honor; and, in the character of Vito Corleone, a desire for the next generation to have life easier than he did. Unfortunately, those dreams are perverted by Michael, as the former WWII hero is thrust into the role of patriarch of this evil family, and appears to ignore the wisdom of his father, and has no qualms lying to those who should be closest to him about his actions.
Although the first film, released in 1972, winner of the Best Picture Oscar the next year, is widely acknowledged as one of the greatest films of all-time (and by some, the greatest), the more one watches it, the more one sees the cliches of pulp fiction within Puzo’s story, as put on-screen by Coppola. Yes, it’s a prestige literary adaptation, but it’s also a popular entertainment, whether you’re discussing the myriad of memorable lines (“Leave the gun, take the cannoli,” “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes”); the iconic moments; and the classic characters (how many other movies have so many characters we remember by name?).
How Coppola balances the pulp, which could’ve turned the movie solely into just another gangster film in lesser hands, with the artistic and casting choices that turn the film into high art makes for fascinating viewing from the very first scenes at the wedding of Don Corleone’s daughter, Connie (Talia Shire), in which Coppola moves from the goings on at the wedding reception to the darkened study of the Don (Marlon Brando, in his most famous, Oscar-winning performance) where, on the day of his daughter’s wedding, he cannot refuse any request made of him. We see three of these exchanges by the Don: the first with an undertaker whose daughter was beaten by her boyfriend, and whom wishes for justice; the second with a baker who hopes his daughter can marry an employee who is on the verge of deportation; the third with Johnny Fontaine, a band singer and godson of Vito’s who wants to land a part in a new movie, except the film’s producer doesn’t want him, leading to the classic image of the horse’s head in the bed. During this stretch of the film (one of the most extraordinary in all of film history), we meet all of the key players: Vito; family lawyer, Tom Hagen (Robert Duvall); Connie and her now-husband, Carlo (Gianni Russo); Vito’s sons, Sonny (James Caan) and Fredo (John Cazale); Michael (Al Pacino) and his girlfriend, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton); and family enforcers Luca Brasi (Lenny Montana), Tessio (Abe Vigoda), and Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano), all of whom will play important roles in the story that unfolds.
Part of me would like to discuss further the story: the betrayals that lead to a full-scale war between the Corleone’s and the heads of the other crime families, as well as Michael’s exile in Italy; the abuse Connie takes from Carlo, which will play a key role in the violent death of Sonny; the bad blood and Vito’s refusal to get into the narcotics business that will result in him being gunned down, laying the groundwork for the war to come; Michael’s time in Italy, including his taking of a Sicilian wife, Apollonia, the longer he spends away from America; and finally, Michael’s return to American, where he marries Kay and eventually, will become the head of the Corleone family, with plans to turn it into a legitimate enterprise, starting with a move to Las Vegas that will tie up all the loose ends in New York in another tour de force sequence when Michael, who is standing as godfather to Connie’s son, has all of his enemies from the other families, as well as a couple from his own, murdered in cold blood. But there’s so much more to discuss (we haven’t even begun to discuss performances, the cinematography by Gordon Willis, and, of course, the music by Nino Rota), and we haven’t even begun to discuss “Part II” yet. That just goes to show you how rich Coppola’s original crime epic is. Little did audiences know, Coppola and Puzo were just getting started.
By the end of “The Godfather,” we have seen power transfer from the father, Vito (Marlon Brando), to the son, Michael (Al Pacino), who has learned much from his father, but has found his own way of using that knowledge. For all the good intentions he may have had when he first pledged himself to the family business after his father was almost fatally gunned down, Michael has become a ruthless and unforgiving Don, full of the same intelligence his father had, but devoid of the wisdom that came to Vito as he got older. In “The Godfather, Part II,” we see the early years of young Vito in parallel to Michael’s fall from grace. Any chance of moral redemption gone, Michael will eventually find himself alone, isolated, and– depending on how you read the scene of the Corleone family sharing a meal together, in the shadows –contemplating happier times.
After a brief shot of Michael, the film begins proper in Italy, as we see nine-year-old Vito Andolini, of the town of Corleone in Sicily, and his mother during a processional after his father has been murdered by a local mafia boss. While walking, his older brother, Paolo, is been shot down as well, leading his mother to take him to the boss’s villa. However, during the meeting, his mother is gunned down in front of his eyes. He runs away, finding himself on a boat to America, where he will go by the name Vito Corleone. Over time, he will meet his wife, have children, and eventually, murder a low-end New York mafia boss that will be his own entry into organized crime. All of this is run parallel to us watching Michael as he continues to tenuously lead the Corleone’s into legitimacy, although the road is perilous: in addition to dealing with a slimy Senator looking to get a piece of the action in return for approving a needed gambling license, Michael is trying to deal with partners in the casino business out of Miami to buy the family a new hotel to run in Vegas. On top of this, Michael has familial problems with Connie (his sister, still played by Talia Shire) and Fredo (John Cazale), and later finds himself almost gunned down in his own home.
I don’t think “The Godfather, Part II” was the first sequel ever made (though it was the first to win the Best Picture Oscar, as well as the first to use a “II” in the title), but in many ways, it set the template for sequels to come. Compared to the first film, which is far from a cheery experience, “The Godfather, Part II” takes the story into darker, less certain territories in terms of theme and emotion; even the scenes in Florida are lit with dark menace by the masterful cinematographer, Gordon Willis. This notion of a sequel that is darker, more emotionally complex than the original is now standard issue, with films as varied as “The Empire Strikes Back,” “The Dark Knight,” and “Spider-Man 3” following in its footsteps. That being said, few have matched up to the impact and intensity of Coppola’s film, which isn’t necessarily “better” than its predecessor, but is certainly just as riveting from a narrative standpoint.
More than any other element at play in these films, save for perhaps Willis’s cinematography, it’s the music by Nino Rota that drives the dark heart of both of these masterpieces. More than just about any other film score, it’s impossible to imagine the films without the music. Rota’s work reminds us of a sadder, less joyous version of the themes he wrote for Fellini in scores such as “8 1/2” and “La Dolce Vita.” Whether it’s the mysterious piano that plays as Michael protects his father at the hospital; the somewhat jaunty music that accompanies a newspaper montage as a gang war escalates; the lushly romantic sounds of the old country when Michael is hiding in Italy; the dramatic tensions as young Vito follows a low-level mob enforcer home to kill him; or the emotional turmoil Michael feels as control seems to slip further and further from his reach, Rota’s score is the core of this tale, directed by Coppola at the peak of his powers, and acted by a cast beyond reproach in cinema history, about how reaching for the American Dream can sometimes corrupt the soul when power gets in the way.
