America's Masterpiece

Rating: 10/10 (3 March 2016)

Let's talk about what many people call the greatest movie of all time: Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather. Released in 1972, it took the world by storm, becoming the highest-grossing movie of all time and ushering in a new era of film. Centering around a New York mob family and the descent into darkness of young Michael Corleone, played famously and fantastically by Al Pacino, it took us fully out of the Hays Code era and showed what film could do with mature subject matter.
It is also wonderfully acted, stunningly scored, scorchingly directed, and thrillingly cinematographed. When someone says 'The Godfather', a detailed series of images pop into my mind, a series of images distinct from every other film series in the world. It could copyright its aesthetic, an aesthetic that fits its tone and mood like climatic battles fit action movies or long kisses fit romance movies or sunsets fit the island of Santorini.
This film won five Academy Awards. I can safely that is too low. There is nothing in these films that is any less than the finest filmmaking ever produced. It is the work of a group of men and women at the height of their prowess. Pacino has starred in some terrible movies over the last twenty-five years, including the one that one him an Oscar. And Coppola? The best thing he did after the 70's were adaptations of teen novels. Now, doesn't that seem backwards to you? You're supposed to start off making adaptations of teen novels and move on to 'serious', 'adult' fare afterwards.
But none of that matters, not really. You don't remember Audrey Hepburn as an old woman dying of caner in the 90's. You think of her as one of the influential symbols of the 50's and 60's. And so it is here. Coppola could have jumped off a bridge in 1980, leaving little Sofia without a father. That would have a terrible tragedy, but for better or for worse, it would not be the first thing people remember about him. People die. Art survives. Good art grows. And this is certainly good art.
The next time I watch this movie, I should do a full analysis. It'd take a day or so, and it'd probably run over 30 pages, but I think it's be worth it. There are so many themes at play here. There is enough symbolism floating around to drive someone bad. As a general rule of thumb, if it looks symbolic, it probably is.
There are so many memorable quotes from this movie. I hope you guys don't mind me closing out this review by posting a slew of them.
"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse." "Leave the gun. Take the cannoli." "It's a Sicilian message. It means Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes." "In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns." "I believe in America." ...Okay, I'm not seriously gonna stop the review. But you get my point. And none of these quotes come at the expense of telling a great story. Many scripts pick between being watertight and being evocative. This one is both, and because of that, all these lines stick in the audience's mind.
One of the greatest lies of cinema is that the lines people remember are the best lines in any given film. If that were true, we'd have stoned college kids and vapid teenage blondes quoting long, flowery speeches instead of catchphrases. People remember lines in films because 1) the lines are important to the plot, 2) the lines are not something that would normally be spoken, and 3) the lines are delivered well.
The people who make animated kids' films have a tendency to forget steps 1 and 3.
Throughout the history of filmmaking, there has never been a film both as good and as iconic as The Godfather. When people talk about films, it is one of the first to come to mind.
In my opinion, it is the face of American filmmaking. Of all the films I have watched, none have more accurately portrayed what it is to be American. Yes, this a film about crime and the mafia. But it is also a film about identity and opportunity and progress and transition and cutthroat business and hope and fear and assimilation and betrayal and broken dreams and uncertainty and family and traditionalism and modernism and ascending and descending.
Annie Hall and especially Manhattan are love letters to NYC. This is a love letter to America. But it is also a hate letter. It explores both sides of the American Dream. It explores the highs and lows and temptations and opportunity everyone faces as they try to make it in this country. It is explores this glorious mess of a land.
Not much else I can say. If you haven't yet seen it, see it.