The Godfather

You know you married the right woman when she says to you, "Let's stay up. I feel like watching a movie together." And she selects THE GODFATHER.
I hadn't seen THE GODFATHER since 1985, and I'd remembered it as an interminably long slog. But then "The Sopranos" came and went, and somewhere along the line we both raced through Puzo's novel, and this time, I was ready.

And this time, THE GODFATHER bowled me over. From the Swiss-watch screenplay to the career-making (or cementing) performances to the lighting to the music, this film puts down one sure foot after another. It breathes, it gives us time to learn about its people and place, and it fully invests us in the journey of Michael, a character who falls as he rises. The look in his eyes when, during the baptism scene, he announces, "I reject Satan and all his promises," is so thoroughly heartbreaking that the entire film is worth it for that moment alone.

THE GODFATHER is one of those films that's so well known it has become akin to cultural wallpaper. What happiness it gives me that it stands in its own right as a brilliant, captivating picture. Wow, my wife has great taste. What the heck is she doing with me?

The Conversation

Much has been written about the logic of THE CONVERSATION, about its perspectives and its relationship with its own filmed reality. If you're interested in that kind of analysis, Google is a wonderful thing. I'm interested in how the movie feels.

THE CONVERSATION, set in San Francisco, is a wonderfully noir thriller with a hero unlike anything from Hammet's typewriter. Gene Hackman plays Harry Caul, a surveillance expert who suffers from insecurity, indecisiveness, and, crucially, inability to act at the key moment. Caul has recorded a conversation whose implications, he believes, may lead to murder. Since this is noir, his bumbling investigation leads him from clue to betrayal to doubt to clue to betrayal to doubt to, well, it's Chinatown, Jake.

The great thing about this film is its sense of the slow burn. This movie doesn't feature intimidating albinos, digital countdowns, or waving guns. Rather, it features a man who feels doors slowly being shut around him, villains who hold corporate positions, friends who can't be trusted, and more questions than answers. It's the kind of movie that builds dread and desperation in equal measure. By the time it gets to its devastating closing shot, we feel as lost as Caul.

Francis Ford Coppola has made some brilliant pictures in his time. THE CONVERSATION is right up there with them. I enthusiastically recommend it.