Yves here. To help you enjoy a summer weekend, Satyajit Das has penned a new piece on movies, here some major works by Francis Ford Coppola.
In passing, Das mentions Bernardo Bertolucci The Conformist (Il conformista), which I saw in the 1970s and is considered to be an influence on Coppola’s Godfather. Sadly I don’t remember much save how…thin, not just physically but in term of character, the title role, played by Jean-Louis Trintignant, was. It was almost as if he could not cast a shadow. I’m not sure whether it was in Il conformista or another Bertolucci movie, where the male lead is seducing Dominique Sanda (always a wonder), in a dress in big zebra stripes…as the light through the blinds is creating a different pattern of light and dark stripes. I’m sure cinema buffs could describe how Coppola cribbed from Bertolucci.
By Satyajit Das, a former banker and author of numerous technical works on derivatives and several general titles: Traders, Guns & Money: Knowns and Unknowns in the Dazzling World of Derivatives (2006 and 2010), Extreme Money: The Masters of the Universe and the Cult of Risk (2011) and A Banquet of Consequence – Reloaded (2021). ). His latest book is on ecotourism – Wild Quests: Journeys into Ecotourism and the Future for Animals (2024). Jointly published with New Indian Express Online
Music is integral to Francis Ford Coppola’s films. Rarely ornamental, it sets the scene, drives and influences the narrative. The iconic use of music in the flawed and ultimately unsatisfying Apocalypse Now, especially The Door’s The End synchronised to the sound of helicopter rotor blades and Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries during the helicopter assault scene, shapes the visual spectacle. But it goes deeper. Just like composers often work in different formats, Coppola created introspective chamber music pieces (The Conversation) or extroverted grand operas (The Godfatherand Godfather Part II ).
The Conversation, made in 1974, is ostensibly a thriller. Set almost entirely indoors in claustrophobic shots, the film has an oppressive atmosphere and relentless tension.
The central character Harry Caul (played by the late Gene Hackman in one of his finest performances) is a surveillance expert for hire. It opens at San Francisco’s Union Square when we follow a man (Frederick Forrest) and woman (Cindy Williams). We make out snippets of conversation, jazz and singing. What we are hearing is Caul and his associates’ remote recording of a private conversation. The plot revolves around the tape which was commissioned by the Director (Robert Duvall) as evidence of what may be an incriminating liaison between the man and the woman who could possibly be his wife. The recording turns out to be a trap designed by someone, we are never clear whom, to lure the Director to a hotel room where he is to be assassinated.
The Conversation revels in ambiguities. Caul, the consummate professional, finds himself tricked into revealing confidences by a competitor planting a cheap pen with a built-in listening device on him. He is successful but is a failure in his personal relationships and his employee (John Cazale). Intruding into other private lives, he has none of his own. It culminates in a memorable final scene. Caul suspects that he is now under surveillance, the person who bugged other people is now being listened to. He dismantles his entire apartment, including breaking apart a figurine of the Virgin Mary, to locate any concealed listening devices. The closing has Caul sitting in the wrecked premises playing his saxophone as the camera pans back and forth furtively.
The film was intended by Coppola as a showcase for the talents of Walter Murch, his brilliant long time sound and film editor. Fittingly, the audio elements, sometime simple but at others multi layered, are central throughout. When Caul goes to see the Director who hired him and is met by the man’s assistant (Harrison Ford), he refuses to hand the tapes over. Hurrying out of the office building, he notices that the man and woman he recorded work for the same company. At this point, the soundtrack becomes a melange of noises which is suddenly drowned out by the sounds of a tape recorder running dramatically transitioning to Caul listening to the recordings in an effort to establish its content.
The Godfather and Godfather Part II, released in 1972 and 1974 but best thought of as one continuous film, operate on a grander scale. They are operatic melodramas carried by superb performances (Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, Robert de Niro, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, Talia Shire, John Cazale and others) and the cinematography. As to the later, Gordon Willis crafted the first film in stately browns and church-like solemnity but in Part II alternated interior darkness with light filled outdoor scenes recreating Lake Tahoe, Havana and Sicily.
Like all opera, the plot is trite although individual set pieces are often dazzling. There are unforgettable scenes in The Godfather – the opening at Sonny’s wedding, the making of “an offer that you can’t refuse” to a Hollywood producer, the various meetings of Mafia bosses, the shooting of Don Corleone, the revenge killing of the Mafioso and policeman protecting them and, of course, the climactic murders of other family bosses against the background of a church baptism. It ends with a long shot of Michael Corleone effortlessly taking over from his father. Godfather Part II is illuminated by the sequences of the young Don Corleone in New York, the Senate Investigation sequence, the attempted assassination of Michael Corleone and the prolonged shots of him alone in crushing solitude.
Befitting its operatic framing, the films are ultimately tragedies concerned about human fallibility. It explores the characters’ embrace of a pervasive evil, which is frequently justified as necessity. Michael Corleone is meant to be separate from the family’s nefarious business but finds himself unable to escape it. There is the absence of opportunities for immigrants which encourages a life of crime. Both films are haunted by weakness, portrayed by Fredo’s failures, and the long-suffering women excluded from the predominately male world shown.
Nino Rota’s music scores are powerful and nostalgic. Their repetitive themes, like the Godfather Waltz, accentuate the visuals beautifully.
Ultimately, great films are universal. They resonate and inform different epochs. The Conversation and The Godfather films are especially relevant to our times.
In The Conversation, Copalla shows a fascination with security technology and its use in the same way that Michelangelo Antonioni did in his 1966 film Blow Up. Today, far more pernicious camera and audio surveillance is found across many countries not just authoritarian states, as Edward Snowden’s disclosures revealed.
In the film, Coppola shies away from the obvious issues around spying on people focusing on the ambiguity of the information and how we understand its relevance. The recording from the surveillance is never quite what its seems. It appears for much of the film to be sought for one purpose but plot twists undermine this rationale replacing it with a more complex and sinister reason.
The emphasis, consistent with the work’s intimate chamber piece quality, is on individual moral and ethical responsibilities. Caul’s absorption with the technology is evident at the start of the film: “I don’t care what they’re talking about, all I want is a nice flat recording.” This quest for technical excellence avoids confronting the real purpose of spying. His assistant dismisses the content as “what a stupid conversation!” When Caul finally deciphers the words, playing the recording over and over, a chilling phrase emerges: “He’d kill us if he got the chance.” Caul’s concern comes from Catholic guilt about an earlier job he carried out where the three subjects were later murdered. When the recording’s import become clearer, he is too late to prevent events from taking their course.
The Godfather films serve as an allegory for American capitalism providing an interesting metaphor for the current US President and his administration. The Corleone family believe in the Darwinian survival of the strongest and most adaptable to circumstances. There is an equation of crime and business. In The Godfather, the meeting between Don Corleone, his son and consigliori with Sollozo to discuss entering into drug trafficking resembles a corporate board meeting considering a new investment. There is a moment in The Godfather Part II, when Hyman Roth tells Michael Corleone that they are “bigger than US Steel”.
The corrupting effect of absolute power underscore the Godfather films. The Corleone and other families ruthlessly pursue and eliminate enemies, real and perceived. They dominate by violence and fear. They equate money and authority. Family values cover the brutal nihilism that lies at its core. Its principles, such as Omerta so central to the second film, are hollow.
Given that there isn’t much to redeem any character, the films are morally ambiguous in the same way as Bernardo Bertolucci’s 1970 The Conformist. Director Nicholas Roeg complained that he found the Godfather films a “doom-laden, black nasty thing”.
Writing in the Financial Times, columnist Gideon Rachman openly compared President Trump’s approach to politics and diplomacy to that of Don Corleone. Like a movie mob boss, President Trump alternates between menace and magnanimity. He employs fear and threats as a tactic for shaking down nations, businesses, educational institutions and legal firms.
The language is telling. The President and Vice President have repeatedly stated that other nations, seen as competing crime families, have to show “respect”. During the 2024 election campaign in remarks made at his golf course in Bedminster, New Jersey, President Trump specifically referred to the “Biden crime family”.
The relentless pursuit of opponents and the disregard for the rule of law parallel that of the Corleones. Erratic and escalating demand for payment in return for “protection”, such as the mineral deal with Ukraine, is difficult to differentiate from blackmail. The President’s son urged countries targeted with tariffs to quickly buy off his father, writing at @realDonaldTrump : “I wouldn’t want to be the last country that tries to negotiate a trade deal … The first to negotiate will win — the last will absolutely lose.” He added: “I have seen this movie my entire life.” The similarity of President Trump and his entourage’s approach to The Godfather is striking.
The Conversation, the chamber music offering, and The Godfather and Godfather Part II, the operas, represent the highpoint of Francis Ford Coppola’s films. As with any significant and enduring work, the line between life and art is never clear.
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