Love and Death (1975)

Director: Woody Allen

Cast: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Jessica Harper, James Tolkan

Have I Seen It Before: Ok. So, here’s what happened. Two years before even starting these movies reviews, I went to go see Cafe Society (2016). And I have yet to watch a Woody Allen movie since. I suddenly felt like I had a grown past his frantic romanticizing of infidelity. I may have grown up.

And then the accusations against him from the 90s were renewed again. Where I had previously hidden behind the “He was never charged” defense, the notion that it was less a lack of charges and more a lack of wherewithal on the part of prosecutors to get bring charges, I never really looked back.

Then Diane Keaton died. She had defended him in the ensuing years, which was never quite good, but she was great in other movies for years, and I had a hankering to watch one of her movies.

And, damn it, I missed this one. Time was, I had watched it at least once a year. Although not even remotely a Christmas movie, the score adapted from Prokofiev just feels like Christmas in my head.

Although probably not anymore.

Did I Like It: As much as one can still “enjoy his earlier, funnier films” this one does still hold up. Filled with enough references to Russian literature and non sequitur to nimbly switch gears between the silly and the profound, I found myself laughing frequently. One forgets how on equal footing Allen and Keaton were as performers, and she is far more than “the girl” in this movie. I’m glad I picked this one as a RIP Keaton screening, as opposed to Annie Hall (1977) or, worse yet, Manhattan (1979).

And yet…

Someone once described Manhattan—where Woody in his early forties dates a seventeen year old (Mariel Hemingway)—as the filmmakers version of the O.J. Simpson book If I Did It. That’s pretty funny, because its mostly true. In my naïveté of several hours ago, I figured I was safe of having to seriously process whether or not Allen is just a creep, or a thorough monster.

Then Keaton’s Sonja goes to seek wisdom from Father Andre (Leib Lensky) after Boris (Allen) has grown inexplicably suicidal. Senile because insanity is the film’s default point of mockery, the priest tells her the secret to longevity and life is “blonde twelve year old girls, two of them whenever possible.”

Sonja expresses her disappointment (not horror) with the Priest, as if he had said something uncouth, and proceeds with the absurdity of the story.

Blech. Doubt I’ll be coming back to this one any time soon. He’s probably confessed a little bit throughout most of his films. Best to leave them where they are. Maybe try The Godfather - Part II (1974) if you’re feeling some Diane Keaton nostalgia.

The Godfather (1972)

Director: Francis Ford Coppola

Cast: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Diane Keaton

Have I Seen it Before: I mean, come on. There was one particular Ken in Barbie (2023) that I felt called me out specifically, and that’s probably all you need to know.

I remember first seeing it in the days of the two VHS tapes, as a reward for an unusually industrious book report on the novel in the seventh grade. Before any public school teacher would dare to let me take on such a notoriously vivid novel.

Why has it taken nearly six years to get a review under my belt for this one? Oh, who the hell knows, but I did manage to catch part of it on Thanksgiving while stuck with extended (that word is doing a lot of heavy lifting in this sentence) family. These folks had motion blurring on, drying out every ounce of shadow from Gordon Willis’ photography and rendering the whole affair to look like a soap opera from a third-world nation and not one of the good ones. It was the third most horrifying my senses took in during that particular holiday.

So, yes, I’ve seen the movie a couple of times.

Did I Like It: You might get the sense that I’m spending more time than normal on the “Have I Seen It Before” section than I might for other movies. I’d imagine you’re probably coming to the same conclusion that I did as I started the review: What more can one say about the film that hasn’t already been said?

A movie only runs out of things about which one can say about it if that movie has a nearly perfect degree of staying power. Every single time I see it, I can’t help but think about its airtight plot, its almost overwhelming sense of inevitable tragedy, and the insurmountable need to partake of good Italian food as quickly as possible.

The Godfather has that kind of staying power. If you’ve seen it many times before, but it’s been a while, it is definitely worth another look. If you’ve never seen it, I envy your ability to watch it for the first time. You should take care of that as quickly as possible, and I’m totally fine with being a little bit of a Ken by making that proclamation.

Just, do me a favor: Turn off the motion blurring.

The Godfather: Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone (2020)

Director: Francis Ford Coppola

Cast: Al Pacino, Diane Keaton, Andy Garcia, Sofia Coppola

Have I Seen it Before: It just came out, so no... But then again, how different can it be from The Godfather, Part III (1990)?

Did I Like It: I approach this with the same uncertainty that I approached the multiple cuts of Apocalypse Now (1979), especially since the original films in both cases are ones I have certainly seen before, but don’t know as well as I do, say, the other Godfather films. 

Do I rewatch the original cut first so I’m more aware of the contrast, or do I watch the film on its own?

I opted for the latter, and I think I’ve come to a conclusion that yes, this new cut is an improvement, but only in the ending. 

That’s not dismissing the qualities of this new version. The ending of the original film was likely my biggest problem with the original film. The often flailing main story of the film concludes, and we cut to Michael Corleone (Pacino) as an old man, living in Sicily. And then he dies. Just tacked on there, completely divorced from the movie that preceded it. 

In this new version, we do see Old Man Michael, but it cuts away before he dies, with a final title indicated that he would live for a while, and never be able to forget how he sold his soul and got the exact opposite of everything he wanted. It’s an even more tragic ending than what was offered, even if it means that the film is about many things, but the death of Michael Corleone is not one of them.

The rest of the film is ultimately just the same as its progenitor. The plot is fine, but Sofia Coppola—who would be the first to admit she had not ambition or desire to become an actor—is the weak link in the chain. The ultimate question becomes, do I recommend this new film? If you have never seen any version of the third Godfather film, then I would recommend this version over the original cut. If you are a fan of the series, then it’s worth a viewing, although now I have the movie twice on Blu Ray, when once would have done. If you’re familiar with the original, and interested to see how much the film has changed, I’ve done the hard work for you.  Don’t buy the hype that the beginning is all that different—it isn’t. Just stop your Blu Ray of the original cut before Michael keels over, and you’ll get the idea.

The Godfather Part II (1974)

Director: Francis Ford Coppola

Cast: Al Pacino, Robert de Niro, Diane Keaton, John Cazale

Have I Seen it Before: At 202 minutes, it is quite a commitment, and yet I make that commitment as often as I possibly can.

Did I Like It: What kind of sociopath would I be if I said no? 

Of course, The Godfather Part II is a great film. There is no reasonable way to deny this, and I wouldn’t try to do so, even if I wanted to. What’s more, anything that could be written about this film has already been done so. It is a dense, rich meal of intrigue, tragedy, and machismo. Coppola’s output may have fluctuated fairly wildly with his fortunes in Hollywood, but when his story is done he will have still made several truly great films, and a couple of bottles of affordable, yet drinkable wine.

And so, on my twentieth or so screening of this film, I am mostly struck by little moments or feelings as the film unfurls. 

Pacino’s unrelenting, patient ruthlessness. He is equal parts cautionary tale and towering example of not taking shit from anyone. It’s the final eerily quiet performance from the man before he started shouting in Dog Day Afternoon and has yet to stop. Actually, I suppose he starts #yellingpacino in this movie in a few scenes, primarily when confronted with the attack on his Tahoe compound and later when he is confronted with the fact that, despite his machiavellian perfection in ealing with the underworld, Kay Corleone (Keaton) sees right through him and will not abide his opportunistic evil.

James Caan’s cameo in the final scene, along with the pointedly unknowable absence of Marlon Brando. Paramount, Coppola, and Brando could not come to any sort of an accord to get him to make the small appearance, but if you ask me, Michael’s story is more complete if he is completely removed from his father for the runtime.

And speaking of tragedies with fathers, the small moment of this film that sticks with me forever is seldom written about, but for my money is the linchpin of not just the film, but the entire Corleone saga. The family boards a train leaving Sicily and Vito (De Niro) tells his youngest son to, “Say goodbye, Michael.” Can’t distill the series down more perfectly than that.