The Godfather (1972)

 Francis Ford Coppola's "The Godfather"

There's nothing that I could ever write that would contribute in any way to the infinitely abundant commentary that Francis Ford Coppola's "The Godfather" has already collected. It's one of the most lauded and spoken about films in all of film history. It has been analyzed and over-analyzed throughout the last five decades. So, I will simply illustrate my relationship with the film and how it has grown and evolved over the last (almost) two decades of watching it. 

At what point does one suddenly become interested in 'film' as a concept? Certainly, I was enthralled with cinema since childhood. I loved films like "Star Wars" and "The Wizard of Oz" because they grabbed my attention and never let go. However, as a teenager, there was a moment in which I felt the pull towards, not just a specific film that excited me, but the concept of cinema. That moment was when I saw the eyes of Al Pacino.

After watching the 1975 film "Dog Day Afternoon," I felt compelled to watch anything else that Al Pacino had done. Of course, this meant watching perhaps his most famous work, "The Godfather." There is a moment in the film in which Al's character, Michael, must assassinate a drug baron and the head of police. He hesitates at the table, his eyes darting around. The moment builds with tension until that tension is released in a moment of eruption. I had never felt so pulled into something before, so affected by the choices being made that it altered my brain chemistry forever.

It was in these moments that I felt manipulated by film - by the performance of Al Pacino, by the directional choices, and by the choices in sound editing - all of which combined in a perfect stew of cinematic greatness. I felt that my emotions had never been so manipulated. I instantly wanted to figure out why and how this was achieved. I began watching, not just Al Pacino films, but all the great works of cinema I could get my hands on.

After indoctrinating myself in the full-blown obsession of film appreciation, "The Godfather" remained a cornerstone. It was emblematic of 'great' cinema and often considered the greatest film ever made, by both me and online denizens. It was automatic. I would often re-watch the film or even just simple scenes on Youtube. It was a film that I regularly revisited, researched, and studied film analysis on that I knew every caveat. 

Eventually, I got way more into global cinema - Fellini, Bergman, Godard, and the sorts. I eventually decided to widen my scope of cinema and began intaking far more films than I could manage. I even started a project of watching every significant film in film history. Of course, this endeavor requires a certain dedication - and my ability to re-watch films diminished, including "The Godfather."

Before I knew it, ten years had flown by of watching every conceivable film I could get my hands on. That is, until it was time to officially re-watch "The Godfather" for the writing of this blog. It was like watching an old memory, something I had once completely lived in. The second I saw the eyes of Al Pacino, I even began to cry. It was just such a familiar space to me, one that I hadn't visited in so long.

Apart from the nostalgia experience of watching the film, I was struck by how different everything was. Sure, all of the scenes were the exact same, but the person watching them was vastly different, thereby making the experience of watching it different. Gone was this doe-eyed cinephile just starting out. I was now looking at the film after watching hundreds, maybe thousands of films over the course of the past ten years. 

It almost saddened me a little. I often considered "The Godfather" the greatest film ever made in my youth. Now, with all the film I've ingested since, its sheen isn't as polished. It doesn't feel as spiritual of an experience. Watching the film felt far more bittersweet. Obviously, it was a magnificent piece of work that deserves and merits praise. However, it did not make me feel the same emotional devastation of a Bergman film, or the joy of frustration from a Godard film, or the quiet terror of a Lynch film. 

Because of this, I no longer feel as though "The Godfather" is 'the greatest film ever made.' Nor do I feel that it comes close in any way. However, it's still "The Godfather." I still recognize it as a classic. As something that excites. As something that pulls you into its world. As something that provides a sense of thematic importance. 

It's a film about America itself. About American identity. About America slowly transitioning away from Rooseveltian politics into a 1950s post-war climate with Truman as a symbol of the cold, clinical way in which America operated. From that, I can appreciate the film. It's thematic relevance to the very identity of America is something I will always appreciate.

On top of that, the way it altered the cinematic landscape of American cinema in the 1970s remains untouched. It was made by a film nerd who continued making some of the most import works of art America has ever produced. It's conventions are rooted in the things that made classic Hollywood great, and Coppola's reinvention of those conventions established the New Hollywood landscape. 

To me, "The Godfather" could be thought of as a great entry point into great American cinema. It certainly was for me. On top of this, its name, its iconic status, its essence all remain untouched. To me, it remains one of the reasons why I continue to love and study film.