Review: The Godfather (1972) · 12:55am Sep 21st, 2015
Coppola’s magnum opus continues to remain one of the definitive films about the Mafia, the American dream, and simply one of the greatest films ever made, outright.
A sprawling, 3 hour meditation and examination of the Corleone family, The Godfather serves as a study of not only the dynamics of mid-1940s Italian mob families, but also a study on such varied topics as manhood, the American Dream, greed, ambition and vengeance.
It is often said that this film romanticizes the mafia life, but once you actually sit and watch the film, you realize that statement couldn’t be further from the truth. Far from glamorizing, The Godfather instead paints the mafia’s existence as an epically tragic path towards self-destruction and self-alienation, all under the guise of ‘protecting the Family’. Coppola constructs a film that plays out like a grand opera, a heavy weight of melancholy hovering over it while sorrow ebbs underneath it, highlighting the eventual destruction that this life brings to those who live it.
Coppola is a master at his craft, and his direction here is magnificent. Avoiding flamboyance or melodrama, he instead lets every scene breath and speak for itself, constructing them perfectly. At the same time, he extracts incredibly dynamic and immersive performances out of all of his actors. Every scene weighs with emotion and power, and the final shot, an incredible understated image of a door closing, is one of the most emotionally raw and impactful moments of cinema.
All of the acting performances, from the mighty Marlon Brando to Al Pacino to James Caan to Robert Duvall, are exemplary, and each embodies their characters perfectly. Brando’s performance is remarkably understated, his voice a now iconic low rasp as he manages to completely capture your attention as the elder Vito Corelone. On the other end of the scale, is James Caan as the violent and impulsive Sonny Corelone, who’s complete lack of self control and lack of foresight leads to his violent demise. But the real star here remains Al Pacino, who’s performance is a fascinating steady transformation from the one most likely to go the straight and narrow, to a clinical murderer whose eyes burn with a fierce intensity as he fully embraces the evil within him.
The film, of course, would be nothing without Gordon Willis’ incredible cinematography, with colors heavily steeped in black, to the point where it almost overwhelms the frame. It fits the film perfectly, helping enhance the film’s aura of darkness and melancholy. And this aura is further enhanced by Nino Rota’s heavily romantic and gothic score, which has rightly gone down as one of the greatest ever crafted.
In many ways, this review is only skimming over the complexities and nuances of this film, which can be best explained in dozens of essays and papers, and many people have. But suffice to say, this film rightly stands as one of the greatest ever made, and a pinnacle of cinema and storytelling.
5 out of 5 stars.