Movie #62: Released in 1972, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, 175 minutes. Seen it before!

LetterBoxd Score: 4.5 stars

In some ways, The Godfather reminds me of The Battle of Algiers. They are both anthropological studies of how conflict plays out in human society that are fascinating analogies for countless episodes of history. Both chart an escalating cycle of violence, and various struggles to bottle it up again.

But The Godfather also feels like an allegory for the emergence of government; not only in how taxation under the threat of violence can support provision of genuinely useful services, but also how legitimacy plays into this. How does Corleone have so much power? Because he has a network of favors and loyalists? Why are they loyal; at least initially, because they believe Corleone will apply a kind of rule of law. (But this is also undergirded by a coordination problem; people cannot defect unilaterally without being killed – arguably this is the dynamic that preserves Michael’s power, since he does not have the charism of the Don).

But I’m also reminded of another movie: The Leopard. Both The Leopard and The Godfather are suffused with nostalgia and the passing from one era to another. As the gangs discuss whether to get into the drug trade, there is literally a gigantic mural of a train behind them, cinema’s preferred symbol of passage from a nobler era into something modern.

And here is where I will be a little bit critical of The Godfather. The Leopard mourns the end of an aristocratic regime; but it does so with the awareness of how that regime was highly unequal. The Battle of Algiers was also unflinching in its depiction of how conflict hurts normal people. But The Godfather doesn’t really want us to think hard about that. We do see violence depicted in clinical detail. And the story is in many ways a tragedy.

But the Don is seen as noble for rejecting drugs; he only allows minor vices. It opens with him rejecting a proposal to murder bad men, and casts him as more prudent and just than the father of the victim. More broadly, the movie never really depicts violence or tragedy befalling victims who either (1) are mafia, (2) part of what you might call an extended mafia family, including, for example, women who sleep with people in the mob, or (3) civilians who had it coming (the movie producer). The Mafia of the movies is basically a benign organization. That maybe makes for a more compelling movie, but it is a bit of a fantasy.

Lastly, as a movie, the scene where Michael assassinates the cop and drug dealer is as tense as ever.

Why would someone think it’s one of the ten greatest movies ever made?

It just kind of is? It tells this sweeping story, with bigger ramifications, via great acting and music and visual storytelling.

Next: Touki Bouki