by Chris Marshall:
“I believe in America.”
This line, spoken by Amerigo Bonasera in a prelude to his
request to Vito Corleone, opens The
Godfather, and in a way, it is a summation of the film’s theme. America has
been good to the Corleones. They have gained power and riches, even if they
have had to resort to, shall we say, underhanded means to obtain it.
But it is a time of transition for the family. Vito is
getting old, and the burgeoning drug trade threatens to destroy the existing
paradigm. Vito wants no part of it; it’s a dangerous, dirty business. Unfortunately, that’s the way of the future.
Sonny understands this, and it seems like Tom Hagen understands it, but the Don
refuses. And his word is law.
I’m breaking one of my general rules in this post by
referring to characters without any introduction or any actor names, but I
believe that for most people, they need no introduction. Even Roger Ebert has
said that, despite knowing Robert Duvall well in real life, his first reaction
upon seeing him on screen in this film is “Hey, that’s Tom Hagen.”
It’s no secret at this point that the title of The Godfather refers as much to Michael,
Vito’s youngest son, as it does to Vito himself. He is by no means the heir
apparent at the beginning of the film, but as things progress—an attempted
assassination of his father, the murder of his brother—what choice does he
have? They couldn’t put Fredo in power. Of course, as it turns out, Michael was
quite literally born for the role.
The brilliance of this movie is difficult to overstate,
especially since it is unimpeachably great in so many areas. The acting is
top-notch. The script is perfect. The music always works. The cinematography is
second to none. Every scene is framed so beautifully, and you can tell at a
glance, even without context, that you are looking at The Godfather.
 |
| Michael bathed in shadows. |
As Michael rapidly becomes the leader of the family, watch
the way his face is lit. On several occasions you will see half his face lit
and half his face in shadows. It is a common technique used in many films, from
Citizen Kane to Pulp Fiction, but it’s a very effective way to convey the
conflicting good and evil in a person’s heart. Francis Ford Coppola and his
cinematographer, Gordon Willis, told the story just as well through images as
they did through words. And when the words are as good as they are here, that’s
quite an accomplishment.
There are so many classic lines to go along with all the
classic scenes (“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.” Is a personal favorite), and
the end result is that for the entirety of the film, you feel the weight of
History as you watch. It’s comparable to watching footage of Muhammad Ali or
Michael Jordan in their primes, wondering if you’ll ever see anyone of that
caliber again.
And perhaps I will. I’ve never seen Part Two before, much to
my embarrassment, but that is coming up in two years. There is the eternal
debate about which one is better, and as much as I love Brando, I’m curious to
see how well De Niro will fill in the gap. He’s a pretty good actor in his own
right, I’ve heard.
Coppola won Oscars for co-writing Patton and for making both Godfather
films[1],
and by all rights he should have won for Apocalypse
Now in 1979. Perhaps the latter film took an irreparable toll on him,
though, because he hasn’t made anything close to that caliber since. But nobody
can ever take the 1970s away from him, when he put his fingerprints all over
some of the greatest films ever made.
The Godfather
films are cultural icons. Anybody who has even a casual interest in film has a responsibility
to see them. I waited for way too long. If you’re one of the handful of people
who were in the same position as me, watch them as soon as possible. It’s an
offer you can’t refuse.
[1] It
was tricky trying to find a way to word this. Both Godfather films won Best Picture, but Coppola did not win Best
Director for the original, losing out to Bob Fosse for Cabaret.
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