I don't get it. How can anyone possibly think that this movie is better than the Godfather? I honestly think that this movie is worse in every way. No, scratch that. Talia Shire is slightly less annoying in this movie. But Marlon Brando's Vito is way better than Robert DeNiro's (though all that background was definitely interesting), and I'd rather sympathize with Michael than see him as this ice king. In the first movie, you see his amazing transformation, and it's so sad and powerful. Where is the equivalent in the Godfather Part II? Maybe it's like the people whose genetic code makes cilantro taste like soap to them...it's just not in me to understand what's so great about this movie.
In addition to judging it as part of this Godfather saga, I also made sure to keep an open mind and watch it as a movie, separate from the first. As a movie, not as a sequel, it was definitely good. There was a lot of great drama--Robert Duvall's Tom Hagen and Talia Shire's Connie Corleone started to actually feel like substantial characters. And, of course, John Cazale's Fredo. Fredo is really the star of this movie. He is the only character we genuinely feel for. The whole Hyman Roth and Frank Pentangeli business was a little bit hard to follow, and I think I'm gonna have to watch it again to fully grasp it all. I think my favorite scene was when Tom Hagen went to Senator Geary, who had been with a prostitute when she was murdered. It's implied that Michael orchestrated this to get Geary on his side as an ally, and it is just so totally messed up (in a way that I love movies to be).
I think the biggest problem about this movie is that 1958-1959 Nevada is just not as pretty as 1945-early 50s in New York. The colors of the first movie are so much eerier and prettier. Everything about this movie felt very much like my least favorite part of the first movie--when Michael goes to talk to Moe Greene in Vegas. Trashy, bright t-shirts do not mesh well with elegant Sicilian mafia families. The only shots I remember loving in this movie took place in the prequel portion with Robert DeNiro. Anyway, it's an 8/10.
Showing posts with label John Cazale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Cazale. Show all posts
Friday, February 20, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Godfather (1972): Shira's Take
Gosh, this movie sucks.
But seriously, I feel like I did when I was forced to write about Casablanca. What can you possibly say about such a cinematic masterpiece that hasn't been said? Absolutely nothing. So I'll say the things that have been said by others but that come to my mind right now. I think that about 90% of the shots in this movie are completely iconic. If you'd never seen it before, you would still recognize it from almost any still image. Part of this is the use of color and light. No other movie looks like the Godfather (though I haven't seen parts 2 or 3 yet, so maybe they do as well).
Though I've never read Mario Puzo's book upon which this movie is based, I have heard pretty awful things. But Puzo collaborated with Coppola on the screenplay, and it turned out pretty amazing, so I think maybe this story just needed the medium of film. This was my second time watching the Godfather, and it was actually better this time. I am very much looking forward to seeing part 2 now and recognizing all the classic lines I know so well (especially, "I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart.") You can tell I'm scrounging for things to say.
Oh, one stupid little note. I remember the first time I saw Boogie Nights, which was a few months after the first time I saw the Godfather. In the scene in Boogie Nights where Floyd Gondoli came to Jack Horner to ask him to switch to video, I was reminded of the scene in the Godfather where Virgil "The Turk" Sollozzo asks Don Corleone to join the narcotics industry. Boogie Nights has since become one of my favorite movies, but this is the first time I've had the privilege to watch the Godfather since. Honestly, there are a number of Jack Horner/Don Corleone parallelisms, and I'm excited to watch Boogie Nights soon (as I probably watch it every other month or so) in this context. Obviously, the Godfather gets a 10/10
But seriously, I feel like I did when I was forced to write about Casablanca. What can you possibly say about such a cinematic masterpiece that hasn't been said? Absolutely nothing. So I'll say the things that have been said by others but that come to my mind right now. I think that about 90% of the shots in this movie are completely iconic. If you'd never seen it before, you would still recognize it from almost any still image. Part of this is the use of color and light. No other movie looks like the Godfather (though I haven't seen parts 2 or 3 yet, so maybe they do as well).
Though I've never read Mario Puzo's book upon which this movie is based, I have heard pretty awful things. But Puzo collaborated with Coppola on the screenplay, and it turned out pretty amazing, so I think maybe this story just needed the medium of film. This was my second time watching the Godfather, and it was actually better this time. I am very much looking forward to seeing part 2 now and recognizing all the classic lines I know so well (especially, "I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart.") You can tell I'm scrounging for things to say.
Oh, one stupid little note. I remember the first time I saw Boogie Nights, which was a few months after the first time I saw the Godfather. In the scene in Boogie Nights where Floyd Gondoli came to Jack Horner to ask him to switch to video, I was reminded of the scene in the Godfather where Virgil "The Turk" Sollozzo asks Don Corleone to join the narcotics industry. Boogie Nights has since become one of my favorite movies, but this is the first time I've had the privilege to watch the Godfather since. Honestly, there are a number of Jack Horner/Don Corleone parallelisms, and I'm excited to watch Boogie Nights soon (as I probably watch it every other month or so) in this context. Obviously, the Godfather gets a 10/10
The Godfather (1972): Eitan's Take
Whenever characters in a movie or TV show go out to the movies -- and this happens in Seinfeld quite a bit -- they always end up seeing some vaguely anonymous, obviously fake popcorn flick. I watch these scenes and wonder: do they have all the same movies we have in real life? Or in this parallel universe, do they have a completely different history of cinema and thousands of movies that don't exist in our universe? What I'm getting at is this: we should consider ourselves privileged, maybe even humbled, that we live in a world where a film like The Godfather exists. Like Casablanca, this film is ingrained in our consciousness regardless of whether or not we've seen it; it's just who we are. We were all born to love this film, and watching it for the first or second, or in my case the fifth or sixth time, one gets the sense that the film satisfies some crazy, innate Platonic ideal -- we all have to discover it on our own, but it waits for us and reveals itself slowly, poetically, elegantly, until we can do nothing but acquiesce to its awesome power.
It's basically pointless to try to write something breezy and clever about The Godfather. So much ink has been spilled over it already, and by much more talented and insightful people -- not to mention the fact that every human who takes him or herself seriously has seen this film by now and has their own approach. Someone once said that batting against Sandy Koufax was like eating soup with a fork, and that's pretty much how I feel about tackling The Godfather in a critical way. Like any great art -- Shakespeare, Da Vinci, Mozart -- The Godfather is too epic, too perfect, too unassailably well-constructed to comment on and then feel good about myself in the morning. Maybe this is a cop-out, but I honestly can't start breaking this film apart into its constituent units and letting you know how much I love it. My admiration for and fear of this movie should be self-evident.
Most American films live in the shadow of this behemoth, and for good reasons. From the first lines -- a paean to immigrant values -- to the last -- a powerful passing of the torch to a first-generation American -- it is truly our nation's finest film. It's not my favorite, not by a long shot, but if there has ever been a better rendering of the 20th century American story on film, I definitely don't know about it.
10/10.
It's basically pointless to try to write something breezy and clever about The Godfather. So much ink has been spilled over it already, and by much more talented and insightful people -- not to mention the fact that every human who takes him or herself seriously has seen this film by now and has their own approach. Someone once said that batting against Sandy Koufax was like eating soup with a fork, and that's pretty much how I feel about tackling The Godfather in a critical way. Like any great art -- Shakespeare, Da Vinci, Mozart -- The Godfather is too epic, too perfect, too unassailably well-constructed to comment on and then feel good about myself in the morning. Maybe this is a cop-out, but I honestly can't start breaking this film apart into its constituent units and letting you know how much I love it. My admiration for and fear of this movie should be self-evident.
Most American films live in the shadow of this behemoth, and for good reasons. From the first lines -- a paean to immigrant values -- to the last -- a powerful passing of the torch to a first-generation American -- it is truly our nation's finest film. It's not my favorite, not by a long shot, but if there has ever been a better rendering of the 20th century American story on film, I definitely don't know about it.
10/10.
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