"That's my family, Kay. It's not me." — Michael Corleone

I watched the entire Godfather trilogy on my iBook recently, while laying in bed recovering from knee surgery. As I watched, I paused to take the occasional note, and to cross-reference details on the internet movie database. Here are some scattered thoughts. (I apologize if they seem disjointed; I was on Vicodin when I took these notes, and I've only loosely edited them in order to grant them a measure of coherence.)

Let's speak in terms of black and white: The Godfather is one of the best films in American cinematic history. It is held in high-esteem by movie-goers and critics alike, mentioned in the same breath as masterpieces such as Citizen Kane.

It's a powerful film, often violent (though it hardly seems so in relation to modern films), a film that asks us to empathize with characters who are fundamentally evil. In this movie, the bad guys are the heroes, but they're heroes because they adhere to a code of ethics, because we're made to believe that their way of thought is better than that of their enemies. The Corleone family controls an empire built upon crime and corruption, but it is able to function for the same reason that we're able to empathize with them: it is a strong family, and family loyalty is prized above all else.

The opening scene, at Connie's wedding, is brilliant, introducing every major character and theme during the film's first 26 minutes. According to the Internet Move Database :

The cat held by Marlon Brando in the opening scene was a stray the actor found while on the lot at Paramount, and was not originally called for in the script. So content was the cat that its purring muffled some of Brando's dialogue, and, as a result, most of his lines had to be looped.

This is a film that's nearly perfect. You want a flaw? How about it suffers from the late-60s/early-70s penchant for foley artists to dub in excessive tire squeals? If that's the only flaw this film has, it can surely be forgiven. This film is perfect even in the most minute details:

Just before Sonny is shot, he's listening to the 3 October 1951 radio broadcast of Russ Hodges calling the Dodgers-Giants playoff — a half-inning before Bobby Thomson's Shot Heard 'Round the World.

Many aspects of the film are elemental, archetypal, mythological. Appolonia's presence is brief, but pivotal. She is beauty in an elemental form, a last chance for Michael to forsake his destiny, to embrace another. As she is destroyed, so is Michael.

"They shot Sonny on the causeway. He's dead." — Tom Hagen to Vito Corleone

Near the end of the film, Michael flies to Las Vegas to meet with Fredo. Fredo has girls and a band waiting in their suite, which angers Michael. The band is playing a jaunty version of Mona Lisa (a song which normally has a somber tempo). What I want to know is: where can I find a recording of this song? A jaunty "Mona Lisa"? Count me in. (The iTunes Music Store has a nice version from Bing Crosby that I hadn't heard before, and a jaunty country version from Conway Twitty, but nothing close to the version in The Godfather. The credits of the film list Ray Evans and Jay Livingston as the men responsible for the song. Can anyone help me locate this version?)

An actor named Alex Rocco plays impresario Moe Green. When Rocco first appears, I always think I'm watching Jeff Goldblum until I recollect the dates don't add up.

I often hear people claim that the film is never as good as the book. This isn't true. In this case, the film is better than the book, and that's high praise because Mario Puzo's novel is fine indeed.

Most people who love The Godfather also love The Godfather Part II . I'm not one of them. There are elements of The Godfather Part II that I like — nearly all of the Vito Corleone backstory is fantastic — but for the most part the film features too much conflict too quickly. I'm overwhelmed by all of the turmoil. The first film starts without conflict, with a gentle introduction to the family, followed by a single, coherent conflict tying together all the narrative threads. The Godfather Part II is a different movie, and not to my taste.

Okay, okay. So it was only this time (the third or fourth that I've seen part two) that I noticed when Michael figures out who the traitor in the family is. It's pretty obvious, but I'd always missed the moment before, or never understood its significance.

And whoa! the scene in which Kay confesses the truth about the miscarriage is well done, with a subtle performance from Pacino building to rage. Kay's news disarms Michael, shocks him, and he is not a man easily shocked.

I don't like the fact that the most climactic sequence from the first film (the murders vs. baptism) is recycled, on a smaller scale, to obtain an effective sequence in the second film (Vito kills Fallucci during a religious festival). It works, but it feels cheap because it's an obvious duplicate. If the narrative structure was linear, and we'd seen the murders vs. baptism second instead of first, it might have seemed like some sort of circular family destiny.

So why do I like Michael in The Godfather but not in The Godfather Part II?

In the first film, he's an all-American kid, a war hero. He's aware of the family business, but he's outside of it, by his choice, and with his father's blessing. When he chooses to leave the safety of the outside world, chooses to enter the family, it is to obtain revenge on Polozzo and McCluskey, and we, the audience, can believe that what he is doing is, in some fashion, pure and noble. He's performing this act out of love for his father, he's doing something that nobody else in the family could possibly do, and he's able to fill this unique role because he is the family outsider.

Each step Michael takes thereafter, edging closer to the role of godfather himself, seems natural, a sort of tribute to his father. Even during the climatic baptism scene, even with the juxtaposition of his renouncement of Satan while he orders the deaths of five men, even then we are able to rationalize his actions because of all that has come before. We like this Michael Corleone, and though we recognize the film is about his transformation, his decent from The Good to The Evil, he has our sympathies until the very end.

The Godfather Part II is different. At no time is there a glimpse of the old Michael, the war hero, the man who fell in love with Appollonia. That man no longer exists. He has become his role to such a degree that he is unable to carry on a non-business relationship. Nothing is personal. It's all business.

Michael's father, Vito, was a great Don, in part because although his justice was swift and ruthless, he was reasonable, forgiving. He built his reputation and his network of connections, the loyalty of those around him by being forgiving, granting his favor despite the flaws in others. (Vito goes so far as to forego vengeance for Sonny's slaying because it is expedient to the family's needs.)

Michael is unwilling to overlook flaws (indeed, this is his flaw), and bit-by-bit the family business crumbles, one-by-one he loses the loyalty of every person who loved his father. I don't like watching this. It doesn't entertain me. It's like watching a train-wreck that might be averted but for the bullheadedness of the engineer. His father's business partners begin to betray him because they do not trust him, he closes the door on Kay, he has his own brother, Fredo, killed, he even loses the trust and respect of his-brother, his conselieri, Tom.

I've only seen The Godfather Part III twice. The film doesn't impress me. The acting in the first two films is subtle, yet powerful. In The Godfather Part III, that acting is, at times, painful, especially that from Sofia Coppola, the director's daughter, as Mary.

The Godfather Part III is most successful when it leaves the realm of the previous movies and delves, if just slightly, into the moral implications of the mafia.

In once scene, Michael reluctantly confesses his sins, face-to-face to a priest (a bishop? an archbishop?). It's a powerful scene, watching as the enormity of Michael's sins takes weight as he articulates them, watching him weep. It's as if he has spent years acknowledging his deeds with only averted vision, and now he's staring directly into the glare of the sun.

"I betrayed my wife. I betrayed myself. I killed men. And I ordered men to be killed," Michael says. "It's useless... I killed— I ordered the death of my brother. He injured me. I killed my mother's son. I killed my father's son."

He weeps.

"Your sins are terrible, and it is just that you suffer," declares the priest. "Your life could be redeemed, but I know that you don't believe that. You will not change."

In the next scene, Michael sits with his sister, Connie.

"Connie, all my life I kept trying to go up in society, where everything higher up was legal, straight. But the higher I go, the crookeder it becomes. Where the hell does it end?"

In the world of The Godfather, it doesn't end.

(Speaking of Connie: she's a wholly different person in the third film, behaving in a completely different fashion from the Connie in the first two films. It's not the same person. Is this intentional?)

The writing in The Godfather Part III is less deft, too, or perhaps the foreshadowing intentionally more obvious. Mary, it seems, is doomed from the start. There's a sense that Michael's family is going to die in order that he might live. And when Michael and Kay see the puppet show, it's suddenly clear exactly who must die. By the time the night of the opera arrives, the audience is prepared for catastrophic bloodshed. And tragedy.

Still, Michael attempts to avert the disaster:

"You have to understand: I had a whole different destiny planned."

"I wanted to do good. What betrayed me? My mind? My heart? Why do I condemn myself so?" He prays: "I swear on the lives of my children, give me a chance to redeem myself and I will sin no more."

In the end, it's all too Illuminati for me (which is ironic, considering I don't mind these grand conspiracies when they come in the guise of The Matrix).

I liked the third film better this time, but still feel it's the weakest of the three.

Kris doesn't like The Godfather films — she thinks they're "too male" — and I can understand her concerns. They're not movies for everyone.

---

My mobility, flexibility, and mood all continue to improve, though there are bad days here and there. I was especially sore Saturday after having spent a few hours cramped into theater seats. I took my first pain-killer in two weeks (but I only took one, and it helped).

The flexion (range-of-motion) in the knee is still below average, but improving. Tyler, my physical therapist, measured the knee at 105 degrees of flexion on Friday afternoon, at the end of the session, and it caused me some discomfort.

I'm doing my exercises religiously, though, and the knee is improving.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Yet Another CD Mix   Here's my lastest masterpiece, for which I have no name.

2004 — Unstructured Playtime   The times I feel happiest now are the times when I have no agenda. Perhaps this is why I so enjoy playing with my friends' children. Kids don't have an agenda when they play; they make things up as they go along.

2002 — Simon   On Wednesday, a mere two days after Satchel's death, Kris asked me to bring home Gordo, Custom Box's sole remaining shop cat.

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