The Godfather (1972) - More than Cinema
This is going to be a tough one.
It is very easy to praise The Godfather. Yet, a lot of people do it without immediately knowing why it deserves its legacy from its release to the present day.
This post aims to uncover that. Hopefully, it will reveal the truth: this film is more than a film. More than art.
The Godfather is an odyssey of cinema.
Let us begin where every film begins: the start.
The film’s opening demonstrates a wild depth of theme, character, cinematography and its insular world with a smattering of dialogue and a dozen camera cuts.
Salvatore Corsitto’s Bonasera leads us into the world of the Corleone family. The camera pans back from his face as he recounts to the Don how his daughter was brutalised by a couple of thugs.
The script is divine, painting an emotive picture of his grief for her suffering and anger for the boys who committed this crime. The cinematography is crisply atmospheric. Gordon Willis pulled out all the stops to give the lighting a darker overhead tone in all scenes, symbolizing how romanticized - yet dark - the Italian-American mafia is.
When we are first introduced to Vito Corleone - brought to life effortlessly by Marlon Brando - we don’t see his full face, only the back of his head and the gesture of his hand when Boneshaker sobs and needs a drink.
However, it is the silence behind his instruction that demonstrates his power and gravitas.
As soon as you see Vito in this wider profile, you can understand what sort of man he is.
The infamously improvised cat in his lap (walked randomly onto the set and did it all in one take) shows why Vito is revered. He does not rule with a cold-heated fist, but with a loving guiding hand… in more immoral territory.
“We’ve known each other many years, but this is the first time you ever came to me for counsel or for help.”
Vito cares less about power or money and more about the friendships he engenders with others. He is a criminal, but he has a genuine respect and sentimentality that is disarming. You find it extremely hard to dislike his character, especially when he speaks truthfully: Bonasera did not come to him out of friendship or fear, but for a desire to exact his own righteous justice through another party.
It is especially telling of Vito’s character when you observe him glancing at Boneshaker with disappointment upon being asked how much he shall be compensated for his efforts. He felt saddened that, even after telling Boneshaker that he sees the Don as more an asset than friend, Boneshaker thought money was the best payment rather than friendship.
The scene is paced to near perfection, too. The camera cuts, angles, the delivery of the dialogue between the characters, how Vito never raises his voice even when both he and us see how disrespected he feels. It establishes what we can expect from these characters and what the film’s identity is: a slow, yet inevitable character study of the mafia and the people in them.
In immediately successful scenes, you see Vito treat with Lucas Brasil - an extremely dangerous Whitman - where even he stumbles over his words because the mere presence of the Don affects his confidence.
Or when he meets with Johnny Fontanel to solve his problem with his agency, how Sonny walks back into the room and Vito delivers his most poetic line yet:
“A man who never spends time with his family can never be a real man.”
While looking over his shoulder at Sonny where Sonny was having sex with one of his sister’s bridesmaids. It is only rivaled by the iconic “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Not does this invite the audience’s curiosity, but it unnerves them, making us ponder what offer that Johnny’s superior couldn’t possibly refute.
It involves a prized stallion’s head and a bed. ‘Cuff said.
The other side of this masterclass of storytelling is the character of Michael Corleone; Al Pacino’s finest hour.
How ironic that the truly patriotic member of the Corleone clan is the one who will transform into its most ruthless boss, superseding that of his revered father.
When we first meet Michael, he is sat with his fiance Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) along with the rest of the wedding guests. He is idealistic, morally strong and resentful of his family’s dealings.
“That’s my family, Kay, it’s not me.”
An ultimate familial love for his parents and siblings, but not a love for what they do. Michael and Vito’s characters are attempts to adhere to the film’s established formula of character development: although actions may change, characters remain constant.
They behave differently when new elements are added to the plot, but remain the same person as they were from beginning to end. However, what makes Michael and Vito’s characters so enduring across this film, Part II and beyond is the similarities between them.
The biggest one is how calm and level-headed Michael behaves, as does Vito, which makes his eventual role as the Godfather more tailor-suited to him personally.
Michael understands the true nature of power. it requires a calculated and methodical touch if one were to possess and maintain it.
The elder brothers Sonny and Fred are established to be impulsive and timid, respectively. Too much so to fully grasp the responsibility that being the Godfather represents. However, Michael does grasp it.
What begins Michael’s transformation from a noble character to a captivating villain is how he is forced into action. When his father is gunned down in broad daylight and is hospitalized, it forces Michael to take a more vested interest in his family’s business.
His fearless nature is deepened further when guarding the hospital where his father sleeps. Enzo the baker’s son is delivering flowers, but Michael sees a suspicious vehicle pull up and has the baker’s son pose with him to look imposing.
Where the baker’s son tries to light a cigarette, he’s visibly trembling, yet Michael’s hands are steady when he lights it.
The major forces of antagonism Michael encounters - Virgil Sozzled and the corrupt police captain McClure - escalates his involvement with the family, until he comes to play a pivotal role in the business, his character arc and the story.
The restaurant scene between Michael, Sozzled and McClure is another work of art. The camera is intimate with its framing, providing close ups where possible. Michael and Solomon's Italian goes untranslated, because it is ultimately irrelevant to the events that will unfold.
The sound design of the rumbling train and screeching wheels as Michael pops to the bathroom to grab his gun accentuate his anxiety. When he finally pulls the trigger, we know his decline has truly begun.
It must be said that Michael is the protagonist of this story, yet his character arc is highly unconventional. It does not seek to see him be redeemed in any capacity, but more to lead him down a dark path that can never be turned back on.
It reaches a zenith during his forced exile to Sicily, where he falls in love with Apollonian. She would later prove to be the perfect wife for whom Michael would eventually become: the conservative Sicilian who upholds both his and her honor, more than Kay’s forward-thinking nature.
However, Apollonian is cruelly killed in a planted car bomb intended for Michael. Once more, Michael is the same man he was at the start: idealistic and level-headed, yet his priorities are different.
The death of Apollonian sours Michael as a person, turning him over to be seduced by the sweet scent of power and his relationship with Kay continues to weaken when he returns to America.
This results in two glorious pieces of cinema one could ever dream of.
The first: the baptism by blood.
Michael attends the baptism of Connie’s new-born son to whom he is named godfather. Michael renounces his sins in a holy sanctum.
Meanwhile, this is juxtaposed by scenes of Michael’s mercilessness hitting a brutal peak as his assassins and henchmen wipe out the heads of the other crime families as well as Moe Greene who disrespected him.
Michael only ever wanted to protect the family’s interests since his father was shot. However, the taste he got for control and making people fear him is ultimately what causes his eventual downfall.
He is far colder than his father, yet Vito would always have more respect than Michael ever would because of it.
The second is the end.
Kay sees Connie hysterically berate Michael for killing her abusive husband. Michael is asked by Kay if it was true. He denies it.
She walks out of the room seemingly assured, until she gazes back at her husband, darkened by a shadow of power, as Peter Clemenceau clasps his hand, bowing to him and uttering “Don Corleone” as the music grows.
His transformation is absolute. It is like an announcement of a new era of the family. And the way the camera focuses on Kay as the door is shut on her - always on the outside looking in - and it fades to black is a perfect conclusion to this epic story.
I could keep going, but I honestly wish to stop here.
The Godfather is lauded for a plethora of valid reasons. Characters, story, themes, pacing, drama, violence, the gorgeously emotive soundtrack, script and direction. Every box gets ticked and then ticked again.
Even when analyzing the two principle characters and what they mean in the story, this should demonstrate the amount of depth to this film and how Francis Ford Coppola would go onto create one of cinema’s finest odysseys.
The Godfather is more than just a film. It is more than cinema.
It is an experience you can’t refuse.
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