There is a reason The Godfather (1972) still resonates with audiences fifty years after its first release. It’s a rare film that offers all the pillars to perfection. This sturdy masterpiece is held up by relatable characters, believable writing, convincing acting, superb cinematography, and outstanding directing. As insurance, the Academy Award-nominated score is the coaster that keeps your flat, flavorless Manhattan from spilling. The function of keeping moisture from forming between the wood and stem of the glass is only secondary to the unnecessary ability it has to hold up any of those perfect legs if the table were to wobble. It’s a beautiful piece of furniture that looks great in any room. It’s a conversation piece that deserves every bit of attention it gets. They sure don’t make ’em like they used to.
Published as a novel in 1969, Mario Puzo’s The Godfather sold 21 million copies, spawning a trilogy that kicked off with the genre-establishing film. It’s true that crime and mafia had been subjects of films since long before The Rat Pack, but The Godfather captivated audiences with a reach that continues to extend to this day. Hollywood has sought to recapture the perfect storm in a gangster film ever since Italian immigrant Amerigo Bonasera (Salvatore Corsitto) came to Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando) to ask for a favor. In this scene, the film effectively shows you who the Godfather is, how he runs his business, and how closely related (and separate) family and friends are to his business. The attribution, “Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer,” comes later, but the phrase also encapsulates the modus operandi you can expect from these characters.
The opening scene shows that the Don has empathy, the empathy you felt as a viewer when you heard Bonasera describe what happened to his daughter. But it also shows he has a standard that must be upheld in order to be protected under his umbrella. Don Corleone is in a vengeful god-like position in that you must express your love for him in order to be saved. A character like that is not always loved by audiences, but there is an underlying comprehension that he will be respected…or else. As the Don pets the cat in his lap, you can see the reverberating images of villains for decades to come who show a soft side while in the midst of making a ruthless decision.
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“I believe in America” is not a throwaway opening line. To immigrants, America is a place of promise and hope, a place of liberty and justice for all. It’s not because of The Constitution or the Pledge of Allegiance. It’s because corruption runs deep, far, and wide. The Wild West never went away. It evolved. The Mafia is a dressed-up gang of train robbers who promise prosperity only their ilk. Crime rule is anarchy in disguise. America is the place where the dictates of government and rule and authority only have so much reach. When rule for the people fails, the people have ways to enforce their own principles. Bonasera speaks this line despite the justice system having failed his daughter (I would say “failed him,” but it was his daughter who was denied proper justice). He doesn’t actually believe in America. He believes in the Godfather. America has failed him. This scene sets the table for the rest of the epic.
“Mark 16:16” says, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned.” Bonasera has come to the Don to renounce America. His character was not accidentally named Amerigo Bonasera. Amerigo from Amerigo Vespucci, whose name America is derived from; and Bonasera from “buona sera,” meaning good evening in Italian. Goodnight, America. I’m putting my eggs in the Don’s basket from now on. The film goes on to demonstrate that while anarchy can promise justice, it’s only temporary. The reaction to anarchy is always exponential anarchy. No one rests with both eyes closed. Vito will learn this before it’s too late, but only after losing power.
When countless films in the crime family genre try to emulate the success of The Godfather, they almost always fail to capture what makes the film a timeless classic. The reason for this is the glorification of the lifestyle. Since The Godfather, crime bosses in Hollywood have more expensive suits, fancier cars, bigger houses, badder crimes, and more complicated plots to surprise audiences; but what they lack is realism. Not the realism of holding the mains of Goodfellas (1990) accountable for their crimes. Not the realism of Scarface (1983) that shows the street-level trials of a boss in the making. The realism that’s missing is the escalating loss and emotional toll that’s felt by Don Vito Corleone himself and everyone around him.
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When Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) assumes the role of the Godfather, he emulates a version of his father he no longer sees. The attempted assassination of Vito Corleone might seem to show he’s a moose or a brut that can’t be put down, but in Michael’s eyes, his father has shown weakness. It was never the family’s or Michael’s intention for him to take over the family business, but Vito’s people run around like chickens with their heads chopped off. Michael is cold as steel. As a military man, he knows it’s his duty to take charge. It takes three movies to get him to his lesson, but because he does not relent and call for peace as his father did, he is eventually left with nothing and no one. He left America proverbially and physically, and anarchy left him to die alone.
The HBO series The Sopranos came closest in bringing consequence and character growth to the screen the way The Godfather did. Each character’s role in the family represented a specific view on who they were and how their eventual fates were foreshadowed. It’s hard enough in life to understand your own arc. It makes a character understanding their own arc seem unbelievable, so more often than not, characters cannot see beyond the fourth wall. Little is more important yet more toxic than family, but the peaceful memories are what we will treasure on our deathbeds. Vito understood this once he saw the death of Sonny Corleone (James Caan). The family never gets to know Sonny died on the way to protecting his sister, Connie (Talia Shire). Violent intention begets a violent fate for him. Anarchy leads to exponential anarchy. All winners eventually lose. Vito saw it at the cost of Sonny’s life. At this point, Michael is in full control, or so it seems. Anarchy is really who is in control.
There was a lesson book I remember from childhood (the name escapes me, but the lesson is a perfect metaphor). There was a boy who wanted to paint his treehouse red, but he dripped paint on the fence, so to hide it from his father, he painted the rest of the fence red. He kept making mistakes, and eventually, the entire house and yard were painted red. Michael dripped red paint on the fence when he killed Captain Mark McCluskey (Sterling Hayden) and Virgil Sollozzo (Al Lettieri). That action made the famous mass assassination montage necessary. By then, his tree and lawn were red. Michael takes the Godfather mantle and is burdened with a Sisyphusian effort to survive and move forward. Having realized what’s really important, his father dies in the garden playing with his grandson.
The tragedy of the family is that respect is only there as a result of fear. In one scene, Vito coldly spells that rule out to Bonasera, who doesn’t just happen to be an undertaker. Bonasera was a warning of what was to come. He was a portent to himself. He was an omen to Don Corleone. He was there for us, the audience, to understand that everything we were about to see was futile and avoidable. It’s a perfect story, and like most perfect stories, it will need to be told over and over.
