Epic Journey into the History and Culture of the Mafia

Rating: Null/10 (10 May 2004)

Spoiler Alert!! "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."
And with those words, Marlon Brando cemented his claim of film immortality. Many have imitated his cold, calculating stare, his borderline incoherent mumbling, and his movements which are, on the surface, awkward and elderly, but have an inexplicable gracefulness to them. But none will ever truly become Don Vito Corleone the way Brando did.
His mere physical presence depicts years of harsh dealings with unscrupulous types, and yet somehow, we see honor, loyalty, and a sense of family devotion that is to be praised, not lamented. Roger Ebert, in his analysis of The Godfather, eloquently explains that part of the film's resounding charm and success is that it "tricks" you into sympathizing with people who commit unspeakable acts.
Indeed, several have had their disagreements with the Godfather series because of its "overly romantic" portrayal of one of the most notorious groups in American history, the Sicilian Mafia. These people kill, cheat, lie, and scheme. And yet here lies the key as to why this film is one of the greatest ever made. Yes, many of the characters with whom we are supposed to identify are corrupt in many ways. But the further we are drawn into the microcosm of the Corleone family, the more we learn about these individuals that we initially shun as pure evil. The more we learn, the more human they seem, and we begin to see many signs of redeeming values.
Mixed in with the lies, the crime, the deceit is a rich cultural history, and even more immediately, an ongoing battle for a piece of the coveted American Dream. Amongst the violent background, there can be honor and virtue, and with so many gray areas, we wonder if these supposedly horrible people are really evil, or whether they might be unwitting byproducts of a ruthlessly violent tradition that does not allow them for any alternatives.
This particular point applies much more to Vito himself in The Godfather Part II. In this first installment, it is his son Michael (Al Pacino) that is the true tragic character of circumstance. Being the youngest of three male children, Michael begins the story as the only one with no ties to the nefarious dealings of the Corleone family. The eldest son, Sonny (James Caan), is a perpetual time bomb waiting to explode and does not have Michael's scruples. The middle son, Fredo (John Cazale) is much more passive, but not very intelligent.
It is for these reasons that Vito sees Michael as the key to legitimizing the family and washing away the blood of years past. We will come to recognize, however, one of the themes that echoes relentlessly throughout all three films: the sins of the past can never be fully purged.
Now knowing what happens in all three films, it is painful for me to watch the monumental opening wedding sequence of The Godfather and hear Pacino speak the words, "That's my family, Kay, that's not me." This comes, of course, following Michael's conversation with his girlfriend Kay (Diane Keaton) regarding one of his father's involvements with crime. We then see Michael insist that Kay join the family picture, despite her protests. This subtle shot suggests a symbolism that will become indicative of their relationship (one of the few subplots that extends through all three films).
The opening sequence, which lasts for almost a full half-hour, is the wedding of Vito's youngest child and only daughter, Connie (Talia Shire). Yet this half-hour flies by effortlessly as it introduces all the major characters fluidly and economically. Everything we need to know is expressed, often without dialogue (a tribute to the fantastic performances). And there is still time to revel in the joys of a rich cultural tradition, expressed by the myriad festivities.
Shortly thereafter, however, the joy is replaced by dread, as we begin to learn of trouble brewing for the Corleone family. A powerful drug supplier named Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) presents the heads of the "five families" (those with Mafia ties) with deals that will create huge profits. Only Vito refuses the deal, which also entails refusal to give aid to the other families through use of politicians, police, and members of the press that Vito has power over. His reasoning is that drugs is a "dirty business" that will destroy the families in the years to come. The public turns a blind eye towards duplicitous activities like gambling, liquor, and prostitution, but narcotics, he feels, is different.
This refusal stirs up the beginnings of bloodshed and engenders nothing short of a violent tribal feud that will claim several lives. At great risk, of course, is Vito himself, and Michael becomes torn between his desire for a normal, legitimate life with Kay and devotion and care for his father and family. Unfortunately, his father's immediate danger causes his concern for the family to win out, and we begin to watch the great tragedy of Michael turning from innocent outsider to ruthless manipulator, even more so than his father. This happens following his guarantee that he would never follow in his father's ways.
Along the way, we become witness to some of the most suspenseful and well-thought out scenes in cinematic history, not the least of which is the scene almost directly in the middle of the film. In this scene, which excruciatingly defies time and seems to extend indefinitely, Michael must choose whether or not he will commit the final act that will secure him as a participating member in the family's illegal ways.
It is the painful watershed, and again, knowing what happens down the road, I often find myself wanting to scream out, "No, don't do it!" To be compelled to do this towards a movie I have seen repeatedly means two things. First, yes I know, I am a freak. But what an achievement it is to have a film so well directed, shot, lit, and written that it stops being fiction and takes over you, despite repeated viewings.
In addition to these moments of suspense, The Godfather also has one of the most romantic sequences I have ever seen on film. This is, of course, Michael's encounter with the young Sicilian girl, Apollonia (Simonetta Stefanelli). The breathtaking cinematography of the Sicilian countryside and the exquisite melodies of Nino Rota's Sicilian Pastorale perfectly capture the ambience of Michael's capricious affair.
Needless to say, The Godfather is filled with memorable performances. Of the five nominees for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscar ceremony for the films of 1972, three of them belonged to The Godfather. These belonged to Al Pacino, James Caan (for his explosive performance as Sonny), and Robert Duvall (with a low-key, but highly effective performance as Michael's half-brother and consigliere to the family).
None of the three won, but Marlon Brando did win the Best Actor Oscar (and later declined to accept it as a gesture against the poor treatment of Native Americans by the industry at the time). There are also a number of memorable smaller roles, such as Lenny Montana as the oafish Luca Brasi; Abe Vigoda and Richard Castellano as Vito's assistants, Tessio and Clemenza; and Sterling Hayden as the corrupt police captain, McCluskey.
Despite a monumental directorial effort, Francis Ford Coppola did not receive the Best Director Oscar, but he did share the screenwriting Oscar with Mario Puzo for the adaptation of Puzo's novel. Special note should be given to cinematographer Gordon Willis for his phenomenal use of lighting. Few films I have seen make such heavy use of shadows and darkness (there are a number of medium and close shots in which we cannot see the subjects' eyes), and Willis's work here leaves an easily distinguishable impression.
Then, of course, there's the climax during the final 20 minutes of the film, which is nothing short of a masterwork of editing, cross-cutting, pacing, timing, and style. The music during this sequence is so perfectly chosen that it never gets old no matter how many times I watch it. The sequence drips with an irony of the highest magnitude. Some have cited it as their favorite moment in film history.
The Godfather truly is a film unlike any other. Some films make good epics, some good character studies, some good tragedies, some good action or suspense films, and some good historical dramas. It is hard make a single great film in any of these categories. The Godfather does it in all of them.
By the end of the film's 170-minute length, we have witnessed a complete 180-degree shift in several characters' lives. Yet still, only part of the story has been told. The harsh sense of tragedy, loss, and deceit that accompanies the end of this film is something that only expands and deepens with an even greater destructive resonance in The Godfather Part II.