Whenever you talk to a film buff about The Godfather movies there is in the inevitable debate about which of the first two is better. Clearly, both are masterpieces -- two of the best movies ever made. I prefer Part II which probably makes me a bit more pretentious and more of cinephile hipster, but it's fun to debate their merits -- sort of.
And then, often, the conversation devolves into a review of Part III, which is usually met with disdain and derision. As someone who has always liked the film, flaws and all, it becomes painful to defend it, as if its universally accepted image as a misfire should never be tainted.
I was too young to fully know how it was received when it first came out 30 years ago. I know it performed well at the box office (although not enough to justify its high -- for the time -- cost) and it was nominated for a few Academy Awards, including Best Picture -- but perhaps that was just because of the Godfather pedigree.
Like he has with many of his other films, director Francis Ford Coppola has decided to tinker with his divisive three-quel and has re-released it in the form he claims he intended, with a new subtitle -- Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. I have never been convinced that calling the original release The Death of Michael Corleone would have made a huge difference in terms of the film's impact or success. After all, audiences would still want to know how Pacino's antihero died. But alas, here we are.
Watching this "new" version is a bit of an eye-rolling experience, not because the film is diminished in anyway, but moreso because it plays virtually the same. It still has it's baroque papal corruption subplot. It still has Sofia Coppola's horribly stilted performance and Andy Garcia's wonderful scene stealing one.
And it has, best of all in opinion, Al Pacino's moving work as a wounded Michael Corleone in decline, trying in his last gasp to finally do what he'd always dreamed -- legitimize his family -- but his past demons keep coming back to haunt him.
For me, Pacino's performance -- tightly controlled and surprisingly sympathetic -- is what makes Part III a very good, even a great film. And at the end of the day, for a film that probably never should have been made and was almost certainly motivated by a desire for pure profit, it has its pleasures.
The climax at an opera house is still exciting and dynamic -- in fact, the whole movie is just gorgeous as it's two predecessors. And even if Sofia Coppola is a major weakness, her fate in this movie is still a potent plot twist, one that you don't necessarily see coming the first time you see it.
I'm told that there is some subtle rearranging of scenes and small trims (apparently twenty minutes worth) but having seen this film several times I honestly couldn't see too much of a difference. Although, I did like the moving a meeting between Michael and an archbishop earlier in the film because it has a nice echo with the opening meeting scene in The Godfather
The only major change worth talking about (I'd argue) is the very last scene. In the original release, it was slightly abrupt -- we see Michael as an even older man sitting isolated and alone (much as he did at the end of Part II). He makes a small gesture, then he slumps over and dies. In Coda, his death is treated with a little more grace, with a poignant quote that probably hits home more than the original ending did.
Still, at the end of the day, this isn't a movie that necessarily needed to be redeemed in my opinion. Unlike the first two films, it's not for everyone. It feels slower (although Part II is longer and denser, it's plot really moves) and more glum, but it's intended to be. Coppola always seemed to have a lot of guilt about the series that made him famous. Was he glorifying violence and perpetuating negative stereotypes about Italian Americans -- probably -- but he was also making beautifully acted and crafted films that said a lot about American culture and its inherent corruption, that remains valuable to this day.
I hope he has found satisfaction in his new cut, but I will cherish his original works forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment