Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

Director: Sidney Lumet

Cast: Al Pacino, John Cazale, James Broderick, Charles During

Have I Seen It Before: Oh, sure. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but it’s been so long since I saw it, that some where in the back of my head I thought Pacino and Cazale played lovers in the film. How did I misremember the final act so thoroughly?

Did I Like It: I’ll go a little beyond the question of just liking it—Cazale is in the film, ergo it’s a classic, and your cinematic education is likely incomplete until you’ve seen it. It’s a perfect picture of the collective American psychosis decades before it ever took hold of us all. The irretrievable fusion of rationalization and desperation. Violence as heroism. Masculinity never quite being what it appears on the surface. The media as a willing accomplice for… well, whoever is willing to use them at the moment. There is nothing about the story of Sonny (Pacino) and Sal (Cazale) that couldn’t happen today, other than the fact that I don’t think the FBI would take so much pains to not put down a hostage situation over fourteen hours.

So many people I talk to blanche at the idea of classic movies. I even had a friend who proclaimed that he never watches movies released before he was born. After they brought me back to consciousness, I eventually got to the realization that people like me might oversell such cinematic staples*, so let me try to make this a little more attractive to you:

It seems like it’s the kind of drama that people in the 70s used to keep themselves in a state of perpetual depression. Or maybe it’s a thriller. Stories about bank robberies are often thrillers.

It’s really a comedy. Pacino even says as much. Dramas usually end in catharsis: This doesn’t. Thrillers—especially the ones about bank robberies—are about plans that go wrong. This is about three guys with no plan, and their scheme almost works.

*I refer you to the top of the last paragraph.

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.