Best Picture: #45
Original Release Date: March 24, 1972
Rating: R
Runtime: 2 hours, 55 minutes
Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Quick Impressions:
I’m watching The Godfather right now as I write this review. My daughter enjoyed it so much (ranking it #10 on her list) that when our eighteen-year-old mentioned he’d never seen it, she jumped all over the opportunity to show it to him. My husband hadn’t seen it either (although he has seen The Godfather, Part II with me once long ago at a friend’s house). Meanwhile, my dad has seen The Godfather, but it’s been a while, so when he dropped in after intermission, to join us for dinner, he needed a quick review of which actor played whom and why one of them was in Sicily. We didn’t watch this movie very often when I was growing up because my mom found it stressful, depressing, and possibly even glorifying evil. My grandma, however, loved it.
(By the way, even though I said “after intermission,” this movie has no official intermission. Just about every long Best Picture winner from the 60s and 70s does have one, so I misremembered an intermission in The Godfather, too. But nope. I read online that Francis Ford Coppola didn’t want to break up the momentum of the story, though it’s pretty obvious that the intermission should go right after Pacino’s big restaurant scene. Anyway, that’s where we stopped for a while so that my husband could run out and get us Indian food. (I realize that Italian food would make more sense, but we had planned to get Indian days before the idea for this whimsical Godfather party took shape.)
My grandma loved The Godfather. It was probably her favorite film (although she was also a big fan of The Cotton Club, Victor Victoria, and Casablanca). My grandpa always used to tease her about having a crush on all the Italian actors. Grandma insisted that what she really loved was the era. (“It was the time it was! You don’t understand! It was the time it was!”) And I’m sure she did love the nostalgia of reliving the late 1940s. But she was pretty passionate about Sonny’s storyline in this film, so I think she must have had a thing for James Caan, too. (When I first watched the movie, Sonny was also my favorite. I’ve always enjoyed characters who fly off the handle and beat people up. It’s not that I approve of that kind of violence. It’s just that I appreciate the dramatization of rage. Plus Sonny is sort of heroic in this. Does he make bad decisions? Yes. Does he make any good decisions? Well…The important thing is, as characters in The Godfather go, Santino is extraordinarily trustworthy and easy to read.)
In my childhood, I saw bits and pieces of The Godfather from time to time, but not as often as you might think (given my grandma’s passion for it) because my mother was not a fan. (Plus how often do kids sit around watching The Godfather? It’s not really a children’s movie.) I remember deliberately sitting and watching the entire thing when I was in grad school. Two of my best friends came over. One brought a homemade lasagna (which took forever to heat up because it had been in the refrigerator). My grandma (now well into her eighties and not entirely of sound mind) sat on the couch and watched with us. I know I had seen the movie before that, though, because I remember Grandma calling out the names of all the characters for me and explaining their role in the family while my mother expressed distaste for the material on the screen in the background.
But now I’ve seen the movie twice in short succession, and I’ll tell you this. It’s a great film that only improves on multiple viewings. The storytelling is superb. The world building is wonderful, and the acting would be tough to top. When I was young, I viewed the story primarily as a tragedy. (The Godfather, or, How Michael Lost His Soul.) I still think it’s pretty tragic (and vaguely depressing at moments), though it’s hard not to cheer for Michael in the end (which is what makes it so morally problematic). My grandma always used to get enraged when watching characters behave despicably on screen with seeming impunity. (“Ooh,” she’d say in fury, “I hope he gets his.”) She and I were pretty much of the same mind about Carmine, and I think my kids had a pretty strong reaction to the character, too. So if you watch the movie focusing on Carmine, it’s a very satisfying story. (Just don’t worry about if you’re somehow condoning or glorifying evil, and you’ll come away from this first film feeling just fine.)
The Plot:
It’s a beautiful day in 1945, and mob boss Vito Corleone’s daughter Connie is getting married (to the biggest jerk the movie) (and probably on the East Coast) (possibly in the world now that the war in Europe has ended). It’s an old Sicilian custom that the don can’t refuse a favor asked on the day of his daughter’s wedding, so, naturally, Vito is tied up in his office for quite some time, taking requests, considering pleas. He’s guided through these meetings by Tom Hagen, long-time friend of the family whom Vito has raised as his own son and is grooming to become his consigliere (i.e. legal advisor). Everybody comes to the wedding, including Vito’s three biological sons, hot-tempered Santino/Sonny, slow-witted Fredo/Freddy, and Michael the war hero who shows up in uniform with his girlfriend Kay. The relatively naïve young Kay is troubled when Michael explains certain unsavory elements of the family business to her. (Intimidating killer Luca Brasi is also there, and for some reason, Michael discloses the way Brasi helps Vito make people offers they can’t refuse.) But Michael reassures his beloved, saying tersely, “That’s my family, Kay. It’s not me.” Vito may be in the habit of making people offers they can’t refuse, but he wants Michael to have a different life, a better life. But then Vito is shot after refusing to back a drug dealing operation, and the family needs Michael. (Is the premise of Arrested Development meant to parody The Godfather? I never noticed that before. Now I feel very stupid.) By the time all the family business gets sorted out, Michael is not only involved, he’s in charge. I’m not sure why Kay is surprised.
The Good:
The Godfather is a masterpiece, and atmosphere is one of its great strengths. The movie opens at a wedding, and we feel like we’re there. Cold red wine sweats in pitchers on every table. There’s a highly eye-catching platter of cookies (so many kinds of cookies!), a wedding cake that’s seven-hundred-feet tall, various elderly relatives taking their turn at 40s-style karaoke, little girls dancing on their fathers’ feet, photographers with now antique cameras, FBI agents driving now classic cars. By the time we’ve finished with the film’s opening sequence, we feel like we’ve been to Connie’s wedding ourselves. We’ve tasted the cake. We’ve drunk the wine. We’ve been introduced to about twenty-five extremely interesting and well-developed characters. We’ve also learned exactly why people call Don Corleone “Godfather,” what he can do for them, what he expects of them. We know that later in the movie he’ll be calling in favors from an undertaker, a baker, and his grateful godson Frank Sinatra…I mean Johnny Fontane. We’re also pretty sure that Michael is going to end up 100 percent involved in the criminal world the rest of his family inhabits. (Maybe I just feel that way because I’ve seen the movie before, but I really think we get a lot of ominous hints.)
The atmosphere in this movie is palpable, and along with this thorough world-building goes methodical story-building that results in a highly satisfying and comprehensible narrative. The music is also great. I’ve been humming the love theme from The Godfather for two weeks now. Also infectiously memorable is the main theme (the one that plays the moment you see those marionette strings in the opening credits).
Cinematographer Gordon Willis and composer Nino Rota create so much atmosphere that we feel like we’re there. And then once we’re there, we stick around for a well-written and superbly acted story. Director Francis Ford Coppola and novel writer Mario Puzo deservedly won Oscars for their well-crafted adapted screenplay (though Puzo was unable to attend the ceremony). Shockingly, this film won only three Academy Awards (for Picture, Actor, and Screenplay). It deserves a lot more. James Caan, Robert Duvall, and Al Pacino were nominated for Best Supporting Actor. (Pacino thought it was category fraud in his case. I think he’s right. Michael is the lead, though I understand the desire to give Best Actor to Marlon Brando.) The film was also nominated for Director, Costume Design, Sound, Editing, and Score.) I’m stunned that it didn’t win any of these. I’m also surprised there’s no nomination for Art Direction or Set Design, but I wasn’t the one giving out Academy Awards in 1972. I don’t know what happened!
Every actor in the movie gives a magnificent performance. When I watched with my daughter, I thought, “Pacino is so much better than Brando.” I’m not really a Marlon Brando fan, and Pacino’s intensity can’t be denied. When we watched again this weekend, though, I realized, “Actually, Marlon Brando is pretty good.” I’m sure he’s posthumously relieved by my approval. (This is the Oscar he sent Sacheen Littlefeather to not accept, so I doubt he really cares too much what people think, and I’m sure he doesn’t care what I think.) (Pacino also didn’t attend the ceremony because he was protesting being nominated in the wrong category. That’s what I read, although I’m now vaguely remembering an talk show interview where he explained what happened quite differently.) I wish I had seen the Oscars that year. It sounds like a crazy ceremony. Did anybody from The Godfather show up?)
When my daughter and I were in the process of watching the movie, my husband mentioned that the cat in the opening scene wasn’t supposed to be in the film. Marlon Brando just picked up a stray cat and started petting it. And that’s why Brando wins awards. He makes natural choices like that. Method Actors are typically either revered or mocked (depending on whose opinion you solicit), but I do think Brando is one of the best of them. I can’t help feeling that he’s a bit overrated, but he’s good in this now iconic role. He’s especially good in that “look how they massacred my boy,” moment. (The script itself helps. The moment is particularly touching because it calls back the first moments of the movie and shows us that Vito is perhaps not as sinister as we might initially assume.) (In fact, I don’t find Vito sinister at all. But Michael! Wow! That guy is terrifying!)
I still think that Pacino gives the better performance (even though Vito seems like a nicer guy, at least in this phase of his life). But Pacino plays a much more reserved character, and yet we still get so much personality from Michael. I prefer Pacino’s less hammy acting style. (He’s less hammy than Brando, and much less hammy than the older Pacino.) (Brando is good, though. After watching it a second time, I can’t deny that.) (And to be clear, Al Pacino is a great actor, too, even when he’s hamming it up. I can’t believe he never won an Oscar for playing this role. They had three chances to reward him. Maybe that’s why the Academy keeps giving him nominations.)
James Caan’s Sonny is my favorite character, and a big part of that is Caan’s performance. Somehow Pacino’s intensity makes Michael scarier, while Caan’s intensity makes Sonny seem less scary. (He has a warmth. Plus, he’s terrible at being cunning.) Robert Duvall is also great as Tom, the character who is level-headed like Michael without being nearly as scary. I don’t think Dianne Keaton has much to do, though I remember Kay having a much more emotional storyline in The Godfather, Part II.
My grandma’s other favorite character is Clemenza (played by Richard S. Castellano, a favorite of hers in any role). I like Clemenza, too. (My grandma and I must have similar taste.) He gives an amazing cooking lesson. It’s genuinely helpful. If you need to cook something, but you have no idea where to start, you could actually follow Clemenza’s advice. You really can cook just about anything if you start by chopping up garlic and sautéing it in olive oil. Abe Vigoda is also convincing and memorable as Tessio. Talia Shire has some gripping moments as Connie. In fact, she gets by far the best moments of any actress in this film. Well, maybe I take that back. The gorgeous Simonetta Stefanelli gets one of the movie’s few big laughs with her insolent, garbled recitation of the days of the week. (At least, it got big laughs from us because her attitude reminded us so much of my son, insisting that he already knows everything and doesn’t need to go to kindergarten.)
Best Scene Visually:
There’s one hugely iconic scene in The Godfather that everyone knows whether they’ve seen the movie or not. In fact, it’s so well known that my husband and my son (both seeing the film for the first time) realized what was coming well before it happened. It’s become so famous that the set up plays like an Easter egg for the audience because everybody knows what’s about to occur.
I love this scene, the scene featuring studio head Jack Woltz (John Marley) and his $600,000 stud Khartoum. What makes this sequence so great is the way the big moment is set up for us visually. We see the opulent wealth Woltz has. He lives like a emperor in a palace. He’s got the swimming pools of an deluxe Disney hotel, and his mansion full of classical statuary looks so grand I was half surprised Patton wasn’t in there using it as his headquarters.
We get all of these visual symbols of wealth and hints of dynastic aspirations, culminating in the $600,000 racehorse that he plans to use exclusively to breed more champion horses.
I keep thinking about this scene. You listen and think, “Who does this guy think he is? Doesn’t he know who he’s dealing with?” Woltz’s odd bravery, his nerve is hard to believe. He doesn’t need to kiss a godfather’s hand. He’s building his own dynasty. He has a movie studio, a palatial mansion, and that champion racehorse he paid $600,000 for, so he can use him to breed more winners.
When Don Corleone makes Woltz an offer he can’t refuse, he attacks him in such a specific way. It’s not just that he terrorizes him (though terror is surely one element. Without waking him, someone is able to get into his own bed while he sleeps.) But the whole reason Woltz paid a fortune for Khartoum is that he plans to breed him. Woltz has such nerve, but after Corlone’s men respond to his behavior, the generative power of his horse is greatly reduced. It’s like castration by proxy! The specificity of the targeted terror of this act reminds me of the kind of contrapasso we get in The Divine Comedy.
Runner-Up Best Scene Visually:
The “leave the gun, take the cannoli” scene is also quite the visual feast. I love the starkness of the fields of grain with the statue of liberty in the background.
2nd Runner-Up Best Scene Visually:
The funeral scene near the end is gorgeously shot. Of course, with classic cars, flowers, and tombstones, how can you really go wrong?
3rd Runner-Up Best Scene Visually:
When Luca Brasi gets his last big moment, I love the way we see fishes on the restaurant door as he enters.
Best Action Sequence:
Sonny was my grandma’s favorite character, and the scene in which he responds to his sister’s distress call is probably my favorite part of the movie. I also like Sonny. I can relate to his flash temper. And who doesn’t hate Carmine?
Another great action sequence happens in the hospital at Christmas. I’m trying to decide if that qualifies as action. It reminds me of a David Fincher movie. There’s all of this ever-increasing, building suspense, but not too much actually happens at the end of all that build up.
Best Scene:
Okay, I’m going to level with you. All the scenes in The Godfather are candidates for “best scene.” I’ve been trying hard to narrow it down to just one.
Does the whole ending count as a scene? That’s really the best part. The baptism—where we famously get to see a very, very young Sophia Coppola—up through the end of the film. Obviously, that is more than one scene, but that’s the best part of the movie. That’s all I can tell you. And it works all as one piece.
But if you want a best scene that is actually one scene, let’s say the part with Michael in the restaurant. One of my roommates in college had a poster of Al Pacino up on our wall. (I think it was from that scene.) I got used to seeing Pacino up there in all his terrifying intensity. I would try to channel his intensity into all of my essays. (This worked out because I was taking a course on comedy and tragedy, so I was frequently writing about dark, intense moments in Aeschylus or Shakespeare.)
The other scene I really love is when Vito plays in the orchard with his grandson. I give credit to Marlon Brando and his Method Acting there.
The Negatives:
The Godfather is a great film. My grandma had good taste. It’s hard to find much fault here.
I have only one small complaint, but it seems strange even mentioning it because I sort of like the thing I think is wrong.
Viewed in a certain way, The Godfather is a tragedy. Michael Corleone starts out a young soldier returning home. He brings his girlfriend to his sister’s wedding, and she’s horrified to learn about his family’s business. He tells her that’s his family, not him. But of course, by the end, Michael has gone down a dark path. He’s not just in the family business. He is the family business.
The small problem I see is that Michael doesn’t really become increasingly frightening. As my daughter (and now my son) pointed out repeatedly, he is palpably intense the entire time. He’s honestly terrifying. Every time he talks to anyone, he looks like he’s waiting to suck their soul out through his eyes, then devour them like a hungry wolf. Watching Pacino’s take on the character, it’s easy to see why Francis Ford Coppola might have taken an interest in Dracula later in his career.
I wish we saw more of an escalation in Michael’s intensity. He (arguably) becomes more sinister as the story progresses, but he’s so intense even in the very beginning that he already seems kind of sinister. His evolution into exactly what he promises Kay he will not become is honestly not surprising enough to seem as tragic as it otherwise could.
Then again, Michael’s time in the army is emphasized again and again. At one point, a police officer even refers to him as “a war hero.” Maybe serving in World War II uniquely prepared him to take on a leadership role in organized crime. I mean, yes, the family is determined to keep him clean and respectable, but that their method of doing this is sending him off to serve in World War II seems somewhat ironic (or at least misguided). So many atrocities happened in World War II. What did Michael witness during his service? What was he made to do? Does Puzo’s novel go into any more detail about this? I’m sure that the film is deliberately making the point that being “respectable” isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. We all know at this point what World War II was like. And as we watch, we learn that most police and senators are corrupt, in the pocket of Don Corleone and others. The movie also gives us that great “now who’s being naïve” moment with Kay to drive home the point that “respectable” people are often worse than the so-called criminals.
I wish the film either went into Michael’s experiences in World War II (to show us that they made him intense) or presented Michael as a bit less intense in the beginning, so that we could watch his gradual descent into cold-blooded ruthlessness. I think the gradual change that Michael undergoes as he becomes increasingly involved with organized crime would make more of an impression if he didn’t telegraph alarming intensity every single time he’s on screen.
But on the other hand, I love Pacino’s intensity. I really wouldn’t change it for the world. He’s terrifying. He’s unforgettable. He’s Al Pacino. So what if he’s a little scary right from the start? We all enjoy a good scare, right?
My daughter’s big complaint was that the plot is pretty dense (crowded with characters, all of them significant) and sometimes difficult to follow. For someone young, it is quite difficult to follow. But honestly, for anyone, The Godfather is a bit tricky to keep up with entirely on a first watch. We follow the action from scene to scene without a problem. But seemingly minor characters’ motivations and machinations can be mysterious, and we get to know the Corleone family themselves so much better than everyone else. That’s not a bad thing exactly. I suppose Coppola dealt with this issue by crafting a film that holds up to multiple viewings (since for an average audience, multiple viewings will likely be required). Last night we started The Godfather, Part II, and already there seem to be twelve thousand entirely new scheming characters to sort out. Also, though it hardly seems possible, Pacino has doubled (perhaps even tripled) his savage intensity. He now seems like he’s going to get us somehow if we watch him too long on the TV.
Overall:
I highly recommend The Godfather. Does it glorify evil? Possibly, but it also condemns it. So in the end, you’re left morally confused, craving a big, sweaty pitcher of red wine and heaping plate of assorted wedding cookies. I’ve seen movies that left me feeling worse. The film is well crafted on every level with a deservedly Oscar-winning screenplay, two infectiously catchy themes, and a number of iconic performances that have aged exceptionally well. If you’ve never seen The Godfather before, it’s well worth a watch.