The Godfather (1972)
It's impossible to watch The Godfather without having absorbed something of its reputation, and this makes a pure review almost impossible. By reputation, I mean not only the knowledge that is highly regarded and that it won the Best Picture Oscar, but also that it has been imitated, parodied and seeped into western culture like Mickey Mouse and Charlie Chaplin...though with more distasteful memes!
I watched this on a Saturday evening for only the second time, but after having watched more than half of the episodes of The Offer. This series chronicles the experiences of producer Albert S Ruddy as he battled to bring Mario Puzo's novel to the screen. The effect has been to provide an unwanted running commentary in my head; as I watch the real thing, I can't help but see it through the lens of Ruddy's tale. This includes the resistance of the American-Italian community (including the Mafia) to the picture's existence; the arguing over casting; the changes being wrought to the studio system and to Paramount Studios in particular during the late 60s and early 70s; the culture of Hollywood and the extent to which I reflected the culture of the Family and society in The Godfather (macho, anti-women, hedonism etc). One of the most interesting articles I read about this film is on the BBC's website and addresses the issue of the portrayal of women. https://www.bbc.co.uk/culture/article/20220311-the-godfather-have-we-misunderstood-americas-greatest-film
What this brings me to is that while critics may love whatever innovation was brought to the screen by its director Coppola, cinematographer Willis and designer Tavoularis, its greatness is historical. It was a great movie. But has it been bettered? The trouble for me is that comparisons are odious. I can only say that I have seen many movies made before 1972 and since that date which I have seen and enjoyed much more often and to a much greater extent. That's not to say that there isn't much to admire about The Godfather, most notably for me Coppola's distinctly documentary approach. Few scenes are stylised (though the murder of Carlo is a notable exception) or choreographed in the same way that, say, De Palma's The Untouchables or Penn's Bonnie and Clyde are. The shock of the killing of Apollonia is much muted by the off-hand way in which she is offed. The camera is often still - little (any?) tracking, panning, zooming. The music remains mostly in the background, and is never used to emotionally dramatise climaxes. In fact, there are no climaxes. We are instead constantly peering through and around out-of-focus objects or people, eavesdropping in a brown half-light on shady dealings. Most of the violence is plainly depicted, not glorified: we are relied upon to make up our own mind about what and whether characters 'deserve' our moral approval or condemnation.
Consequently, the performances of the actors seem to me irrelevant. That is to say, they all do what they're supposed to, but none is giving a virtuoso turn, because to be seen to do so would detract from the factual nature of the narrative. Much has been made of the stars as if these were all top box office, but Brando was on the wane, Keaton and Pacino were newcomers, Duvall was not an established star, though an established actor. Pacino was not even wanted by the studio because he was comparatively little known. So, these were not the top box office stars giving lifetime best performances, but a highly capable ensemble.
It definitely belongs in the 1001 list, but it's not the only movie that I would include in a group of 'hard to enjoy', as its subject matter is so distasteful.
