Showing posts with label Francis Ford Coppola. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Francis Ford Coppola. Show all posts

Thursday, April 02, 2015

Telling the Story of General Patton



"I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country."

Gen. George Patton (George C. Scott)

There are some movies I will watch whenever they are shown on TV.

"Patton," which premiered on this day in 1970, is such a movie.

The first six minutes are iconic — George Patton addressing an audience of American soldiers. They are not seen, but I have heard that the scene was based on a real–life speech that Patton gave to an audience of soldiers during World War II. The first time I saw the movie, I assumed he was addressing cadets at West Point. Either explanation is plausible, I suppose.

As I say, it is an iconic scene. It established the movie as a classic right from the start. It also established the fact that George Patton always did things his way — and sometimes his way was, well, bizarre.

He wouldn't tolerate "yellow bellies." They were cowards, in his eyes, looking for a "free ride" in the guise of battle fatigue, and he wouldn't permit them to share the same hospital space with soldiers who had been wounded in battle.

A Christian, he believed in reincarnation. Early in the movie, he took his staff to the scene of an ancient battle — and insisted, in a conversation with Omar Bradley (Karl Malden), that he had been there.

He wrote poetry and designed uniforms for tank crews.

When enemy planes attacked the place where he was engaged in a meeting with his staff, he ran outside and tried to shoot them down with his ivory–handled revolver. Folks in the press of the day wanted to call it a pearl–handled revolver, but he corrected them on that. "Only a pimp from a cheap New Orleans whorehouse would carry a pearl–handled revolver."

"'Patton' is not a war film so much as the story of a personality who has found the right role to play," wrote film critic Roger Ebert. "Scott's theatricality is electrifying."

I would agree with that. Scott was electrifying, and it was the story of a personality who "found the right role to play." But it is a role that is no longer available.

The last time I watched "Patton," I found myself musing about whether it would be possible for another Patton to come along — and I concluded that it probably would not be. He's like the old–style football coaches — Bear Bryant, Woody Hayes, Vince Lombardi — who were said to be molders of men. The times left them behind, and if a football coach rode any of his players today the way those coaches were known to ride theirs back in the day, that football coach would be out of a job and probably blacklisted.

There is something to be said for hard work and how it shapes character, and perhaps that is why drill sergeants did continue to get away with that kind of thing long after football coaches had to change their ways. But they can't get away with it to a great extent anymore without being accused of abusing their positions of power as well as the boys over whom they have that authority.

And generals, of course, probably can't get away with it at all. Certainly, Patton couldn't get away with slapping a victim of battle fatigue. He couldn't even get away with it then.

There is a point in the movie where the empathetic, human side of Patton could be clearly seen — when one of the American soldiers was killed in battle, and the audience saw Patton standing next to the caisson that would carry the body to a field for burial, and Patton's voice could be heard reading the letter he had written about the soldier's death. It reminded me of the grave marker that Tommy Lee Jones carved for Danny Glover in "Lonesome Dove."

"Splendid behavior," he wrote.

In "Patton," the general wrote in the letter that the soldier "was a fine man and a fine officer, and he had no vices."

"Scott's performance is not one level but portrays a many–layered man who desires to appear one level," Ebert wrote. "Instead of adding tiresome behavioral touches, he allows us small glimpses of what may be going on inside."

Or perhaps German Capt. Steiger summed it up better when, by way of explaining Patton's battlefield strategy, he told Gen. Jodl, "Patton is a 16th–century man. ... Patton is a romantic warrior lost in contemporary times."

Such thinking may have been why the Germans tended to underestimate Patton. Perhaps he was right for the time — and Scott was right for the role — but I wonder if either would be possible today.

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Completing 'The Godfather' Saga



"There are many things my father taught me here in this room. He taught me: Keep your friends close but your enemies closer."

Michael Corleone (Al Pacino)

"The Godfather Part II," which premiered on this day in 1974, was that rarest of all movies — a sequel that surpassed the original.

I thought the original movie was great, and there were even some things I liked about Part III, but Part II was a complete story, even though it actually told a couple of stories at once.

When you have seen it, though, you understand why it had to be that way. I assume that nearly everyone who saw it had seen the original movie, and those viewers needed to know how Don Corleone had come to America. They also needed to know what happened after the conclusion of the original "Godfather."

What happened in "Godfather Part III" was not so important for viewers to see. That, I believe, is what was really the problem with that movie. The Corleone family saga was complete with the sequel that premiered 40 years ago today.

Since the advent of home video, I have believed it is best to watch the movies back to back. Only then can you truly see the evolution of Michael Corleone from the family golden boy, the college man and ex–Marine, to the cold, callous successor to Don Corleone's criminal empire. Only Michael lacked the common touch his father possessed, to quote film critic Roger Ebert. "And because he has misplaced his humanity," Ebert wrote, "he must suffer."

I have heard some people say that this was Robert De Niro's first movie. I even thought that myself for awhile. It wasn't, but it might as well have been. De Niro, who is certainly considered one of the finest actors of his generation, did not get off to an auspicious start. He appeared in a few noteworthy movies, but it was his role as young Vito Corleone that captured the attention of the movie–going public.

The more I have watched "The Godfather Part II," the more convinced I have become that Nino Rota's music deserves much of the credit for how it has been perceived. Anguished, rousing memories of the past and awakening strong emotions, the score stirs viewers to feel things that they normally would not feel when watching a crime drama. Viewers typically do not regret the end of a brutal empire that systematically seized its power through murder and bribery and all the things that usually go into the construction of a crime family.

But De Niro's contribution should not be underestimated — and Rota's music, manipulating the viewers in ways few scores have accomplished, played an important role in that. Rota's Oscar for Best Original Dramatic Score was richly deserved. (I will never understand why he wasn't even nominated for his work in "The Godfather.")

The success of "The Godfather Part II" was also due in part to the fact that so many of the original cast members returned. Not only Pacino but Robert Duvall as Tom Hagen, Diane Keaton as Pacino's increasingly alienated wife and so many others.

Nevertheless, the first two "Godfather" movies wouldn't have been what they were without director Francis Ford Coppola. It was Coppola's vision that united the stories, an impressive cinematic achievement.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The Blood is the Life



Dracula: They say you are a man of good ... taste.

I read Bram Stoker's novel "Dracula" when I was in my teens.

That already had been many years when the movie adaptation came out 20 years ago today so my memory of some passages in the book wasn't as clear as it would have been if I had just finished reading it, but my overall impression was that the Dracula of the movie (under the direction of Francis Ford Coppola) was inspired more by passion than by a desire for blood — and that marked a departure from most of the movie Draculas and generic vampires who had come before.

Gary Oldman, in the same kind of understated way that he approached the role of Lee Harvey Oswald in Oliver Stone's "JFK," played Dracula. Prior screen Draculas were very sexual beings — in a taboo kind of way; Oldman's Dracula, on the other hand, was mostly a loyal monogamist. He exhibited a clear sense of grieving for his late wife and longing for the film's heroine, the mirror image of his beloved Elisabeta (both of whom were played by Winona Ryder).

It was often hard for me to spot Oldman on screen, his appearance changed so radically.

When we first saw him, it was as the young and virile Vlad Dracula in the 15th century, flush with victory over the Turks, but he was soon plunged into despair when he found that Elisabeta, who had been falsely told of Vlad's death, had committed suicide. In his rage, Vlad renounced God, stabbed a cross, causing it to bleed, and drank the blood.

"The blood is the life," he muttered. It was a recurring theme.

Later, as the host of a young solicitor (Keanu Reeves) a few centuries later, Dracula appeared as a much older man.

Then, he was a wolflike creature, assaulting Ryder's host (played by Sadie Frost) on a dark and stormy night (really).

And then he was a young and suave man in London, pursuing Ryder (whose love interest, in her incarnation as the modern–day Mina, was played by Reeves).

In a memorable scene from that portion of the film, Oldman turned Ryder's tears into diamonds.

That was something the boyish Reeves just couldn't pull off. (And, for the record, his British accent wasn't at all convincing.)

You know, I always thought — at least until I saw this movie — that the Bela Lugosi version of "Dracula" was the truly goth production.

But as I watched Coppola's adaptation, it occurred to me that it was more goth than Lugosi's. Maybe it was the way it combined elements of "The Exorcist" and "Willard" in his confrontation with Van Helsing (played by Anthony Hopkins).

I just found it spookier — what with its variety of shadowy figures and otherworldly characters in the background of scenes.

Even the first time that I watched Lugosi's version, I giggled at lines like "Listen to them ... children of the night. What music they make." It just didn't send that chill down my spine.

But this movie did.

Coppola supposedly wanted lavish costumes to show off his cast, and he invested a lot of money toward that goal.

I guess it paid off. Eiko Ishioka won an Oscar for costume design. The movie also won Oscars for makeup and sound effects. All well deserved.

But the actors got little recognition, as I recall. Probably also well deserved.

With one often overlooked exception. I would be remiss if I did not mention Tom Waits' performance as the insect–munching Renfield.

Although I thought Dwight Frye was great in the role in the 1931 film version, Waits was better, striking just the right balance for portraying an unbalanced individual.

It was a bit of a thankless role — I'm sure Waits didn't mind, though — that really didn't see that much screen time, considering that "Bram Stoker's Dracula" was more than two hours long.

But when Waits was on the screen as Renfield, he really stole the show.

Now, if only Lugosi had been paired with Waits ...

Saturday, December 25, 2010

In Defense of Godfather III



Twenty years ago today, the third and final installment of Francis Ford Coppola's "Godfather" trilogy hit America's movie screens.

Movie fans had been waiting long enough. The first "Godfather" came out in 1972; the second came out in 1974. By the time "Godfather III" was released, it had been 16 years.

I observed the hype for this film — followed by a rather dismal reception from both audiences and critics — mostly from a distance. It wasn't in the same category with the first two in the trilogy, moviegoers were told, and I decided to wait and see it when it was released on video.

It was compared unfavorably — if such a thing was possible — to the third film in the original "Star Wars" trilogy, "Return of the Jedi," but even "Jedi" had some good things said about it by its detractors. "Godfather III," it seemed, did not — or, at least, not much.

And I have come to the conclusion that that isn't really fair.

Perhaps part of that was due to the fact that 1990 really seemed to be a year of sequels — "Back to the Future III," "The Exorcist III" and "Die Hard 2" probably were the most prominent ones, but every time one turned around, it seemed, there was another, lesser sequel, like "American Ninja 4," "Child's Play 2," "Gremlins 2," "Predator 2," "RoboCop 2."

In hindsight, "Godfather III" may have faced impossible expectations.

Was it the weakest of the three films? Of that, I think there is no doubt. And I agree with some of the main arguments — to an extent.

But, remember, this is a Francis Ford Coppola film we're talking about. His screenwriting/directing/producing resume includes such films as "Patton," "American Graffiti," "The Conversation," "The Great Gatsby" and "Apocalypse Now" before he directed "Godfather III."

As I wrote recently about Alfred Hitchcock, there are many film directors who wish their best efforts were as good as his mediocre ones.

In those 16 years, the first two "Godfather" flicks worked their way into just about everyone's Top 10 list of the greatest films ever made. "Godfather II" has frequently received a rare distinction for a sequel — that it was actually better than the original.

The bar was always set at impossible heights.

Between them, the first two "Godfather" movies won nine Oscars, and, from the perspective of the budget, things could hardly have been much better. The first film had a budget of $6.5 million and made about $245 million. The sequel two years later was made for about $13 million and earned $190 million.

In that sense, I suppose, "Godfather III" did not disappoint. Well, not entirely. It did make more than $130 million — but making it cost more than 2½ times what it cost to make the first two movies.

But it wasn't surprising that "Godfather III" cost more to make. The first two movies were made under much different economic circumstances; when you allow for inflation, production costs in 1990 were comparable to those in 1974.

Movie ticket prices went up in those 16 years, too, so box office receipts that came in below the numbers from the second sequel were seen as a failure.

It didn't help that critics were, well, critical. Assessments were decidedly mixed, although, in fairness, it ought to be noted that Coppola really wanted the film to be the epilogue of a story that he believed was told in its entirety in the first two films.

Coppola wanted the movie to be called "The Death of Michael Corleone," but Paramount Pictures demanded (probably for marketing purposes) that it be called "Godfather III."

That alone probably raised the bar to unreachable heights — and may explain some things.

As the 20th anniversary of its release approached, I decided to revisit "Godfather III," and here are my observations:
  • Considering that "Godfather II" was regarded as both a sequel and a prequel to the original, I tend to think Coppola was right to consider "Godfather III" an epilogue to the story.

    I think it tells elements of the story that needed to be told, but they couldn't be told with the same familiar all–star cast. Some of those stars — Al Pacino, Diane Keaton, Talia Shire — did come back, but there was no Marlon Brando, no Robert De Niro, no Robert Duvall. Most of the established box office draws were missing.

    Perhaps there were too many fresh faces — Bridget Fonda (in what was seen as her breakthrough role), Sofia Coppola, Andy Garcia, Joe Mantegna, George Hamilton. OK, so some of them weren't so "fresh," but their characters were new to this film series.

    And you could play the familiar music and you could show familiar settings, and you could open the film with another party that sugar–coated the Corleone family, but without enough familiar characters, with too many new characters, a sequel loses much of its sense of familiarity while the audience struggles to get up to speed on who everyone is.


  • For some reason, Sofia Coppola seemed to take the brunt of the criticism for the new characters who represented the next generation in the Corleone family. She was a last–minute substitution for Winona Ryder in a small but vital part, and, to some, her elevation with a modest acting track record smacked of nepotism.

    Her father was the director, after all.

    Critics said she was "wooden" and "hopelessly amateurish," but I thought she was better than many said she was. She was a teenager, after all.

    The role of Mary Corleone seems to have been star–crossed from the start. First, Julia Roberts (who may have been Hollywood's hottest actress at the time) was slated to play it, but she dropped out. Madonna, I have been told, was interested, but she was deemed to be too old. A rising young actress named Rebecca Schaeffer was going to audition for the part, but she was killed by a stalker. Then Ryder withdrew.

    Anyway, Sofia seems to have gotten the message that acting isn't her thing. It is no coincidence, I think, that she has made few appearances in front of the camera since she made "Godfather III," and she has increasingly followed in her father's directing/screenwriting footsteps.
  • And some people — including Francis Ford Coppola — felt the movie was incomplete without Duvall's Tom Hagen, the "adopted" German–Irish son of Don Corleone and family legal advisor.

    Duvall, however, quit the project over a salary dispute, and his character written out of the story. In the movie, it was said that Hagen had died a few years earlier.

    Duvall's departure certainly changed things dramatically for everyone involved. Originally, the script called for a falling–out between Pacino and Duvall. It was, I am told, at the heart of the plot so, when Duvall pulled out, that meant practically the entire story had to be rewritten.

    I get the feeling that Coppola was particularly bitter about the matter, alleging that Duvall insisted on being paid the same as Pacino. Duvall, on the other hand, said that he understood Pacino was the film's star, and he didn't mind if Pacino was paid twice what he was paid, but Duvall claimed that Pacino's salary actually was three or four times greater than his and that he could not accept.
  • I'm inclined to think the movie would have been better if Duvall had participated. No matter what his demands were, Coppola probably would have been wise to give in.

    Having to rewrite the story led to some pretty contrived dialogue, such as the time Michael advises the illegitimate son of his brother Sonny, "Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment."

    Or the "kissing cousins" relationship between Michael's nephew and daughter.
It all seemed, shall we say, a little heavy handed? But at least they had logical — albeit unlikely — explanations. Some things, of course, are beyond a logical explanation. It is jarring, to say the least, to see the Twin Towers in the opening segments of the film while the voice of Michael Corleone recites his letter to his estranged children, asking them to come to a papal ceremony honoring him for his charitable work — unplanned foreshadowing, perhaps, of the fall of the once–powerful Michael Corleone? Wow. Talk about heavy handed.

Well, I guess it isn't as heavy handed as the climactic scene in "Godfather III" — which, by the way, I heard described by some reviewers at the time as one of the most powerful in filmmaking history. It isn't really possible, I suppose, that Coppola predicted the attack on the World Trade Center 11 years before it happened. I am not aware of any time when he has claimed to have the gift of prophecy. And yet he was telling the Corleone story from some time in the future, and we knew, in the context of that story, that "Godfather III" began in 1979. But I do not recall ever being aware of when the story was being told. Admit it. On Christmas Day, isn't it sort of fun to play around with the prophecy possibilities?