The Godfather Part II (1974): Eitan's Take

"Seeing you reminds me of New York... the old days."

I've been waiting for almost two years to have this chance to rewatch The Godfather Part II and fully articulate my numerous problems with it. I had seen it at the beginning of my college career and felt truly disappointed, but before watching it tonight, my father implored me to give this film a second chance. Sorry, Dad.

Imagine you're Francis Ford Coppola for a second. You've just made your sprawling yet intimate masterpiece, and everyone wants more. You have a three-plus hour palette on which to flesh out the brilliant tragedies of the first installment. But instead, you opt for a cumbersome, jarring sketch of a handful of tiny, trivial moments in the lives of previously fascinating film characters. This Frankenstein of a film -- culled from a grab bag of decent parts and stitched together awkwardly and obtusely -- serves little purpose but to remind us of what an organic, warm, intelligent treat the first film is. For the entire running time of Part II, as ideas get stretched thin and the plot aggressively overstays its welcome, we can't help but recall the tremendous pleasures of its predecessor -- the funny and subtle performance of Marlon Brando, the rise (or is it fall?) of Michael Corleone and the intimate time we spend watching his descent into the crime underworld, the rich subplots in Italy and elsewhere. I could go on. The Michael segments of Part II are a bleak death march. The rich emotional tones of the first film are replaced here by one single sustained note: Michael is cruel, ruthless, vindictive, etc., and there is no way to approach this other than overdone pathos. Soul-crushingly banal plotlines, such as Michael's various business dealings in Vegas/Cuba, the Senate hearings, the shocking revelation about Kay's abortion, keep the Michael parts trudging along in a constant state of morose self-possession. In widening the scope of the Corleone drama, Coppola and Puzo completely lose themselves. It's like C-SPAN and CNBC rolled into one.

There is still quite a bit of good in this film, and I should state emphatically that I don't dislike this film the way I dislike American Pie: Band Camp. I dislike it partially because the Michael segments are such an insult to the first film, and partially because they're such an insult to the flawless -- yes, absolutely flawless -- handling of the "young Vito" narrative. I don't have a broad enough vocabulary to express my deep admiration for the artistry in this third (or so) of the film. First of all, it may contain some of the most beautiful, iconic moments in cinematography history: the festa, the train leaving Corleone, nearly every scene on the busy and beautiful streets of tenement-era New York City. DeNiro's performance matches Brando's note for note, in humor, physical presence, and hypnotic fascination. Is Michael simply an uninteresting character? This film would suggest that Vito's life arc is really the only interesting one, but we know from the first film that Michael is a brilliant character, and that the weak and joyless turns his life takes in the late 50's are really just an embarrassing mishandling of a potentially great epic life story.

The ultimate shame of The Godfather Part II is that in overemphasizing the unbearably bleak and tepid Vegas/Cuba Michael story, Coppola and Puzo miss out on giving young Vito his full due. This dark, haunting, gorgeous, and highly atmospheric section deserves a full, proper film of its own. Instead, it's gracelessly glued to a lumbering 2-hour slog, full of soulless ghosts wandering around their tacky homes. It's sort of like watching Padma Lakshmi tie the knot with Salman Rushdie, or Carla Bruni with Nicolas Sarkozy, or Marilyn Monroe with Arthur Miller. Why do beautiful things always pair up with such ugly ones?

Vito's 1/3 of the film gets a 10. Michael's 2/3 gets a 5. The film overall, however, is a muddled mess that clearly needed some more work, some more love, and clearly some more Brando. 6/10.