Written and Directed by Francis Ford Coppola | 138 min | ▲▲△△△
Given both the hype and negativity around this feature — the former to do with veteran filmmaker Coppola selling one of his wineries and self-financing his long-gestating epic to the tune of $120 million US, and the latter to do with critics tarring and feathering the film as self-indulgent folly — I thought to satisfy my curiosity at a Saturday night IMAX late show.
Turned out I didn’t hate this film, nor did I feel like my time was wasted. It’s a sprawling, indulgent epic, and is unlikely to be remembered amongst The Godfather or Apocalypse Now as one of Coppola’s greatest achievements. Will film historians still note with some awe the lengths he went to produce this idiosyncratic feature? I can’t see why not — the fable (and the folly) is all up there on the screen.
Having seen the new David Cronenberg feature at TIFF, The Shrouds, it couldn’t help but cross my mind while watching Megalopolis. Cronenberg is a peer of Coppola, a similar vintage you could say, and both have recently lost their wives. Where Cronenberg channelled his grief into his usual obsessions — mordant humour, sex, and body horror — Coppola goes big with a story of power-hungry families in an America askew. I certainly prefer the Canadian’s approach, but you can’t say the director of The Godfather movies is steering away from what he knows. Coppola destroyed his reputation in the 1990s making movies like Jack, and more recently directed little-seen films like Tetro and Twixt. If he wanted people’s attention with this film, he’s certainly achieved that much.
He imagines a New York crossed with ancient Rome — as many togas as suits and ties — with Adam Driver as Cesar, a genius architect who has the secret ability to stop time. How he gained this gift, and what it actually gets him is unclear, other than to somehow tie him to the film’s underlying theme of time and societal decay. But to what end?
Cesar envisions a utopian future, with great swaths of Manhattan rebuilt with a magical substance he’s invented that’s somehow connected to the mysterious death of his wife — also never explained what this stuff is or how he came up with it. Cesar’s nemesis is the corrupt mayor, Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), whose socialite daughter, Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel), takes an interest in the architect. The film might be most successful as a love story, but even there it’s a bit muddled.
Also on the scene is the banker, Hamilton Crassus (Jon Voight), his unhinged grandson, Clodio (Shia LaBeouf), the broadcast journalist with a fantastic name, Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza), and Cesar’s driver (and the film’s narrator), Fundi Lorraine (Laurence Fishburne), with support from Talia Shire, Jason Schwartzman, Katheryn Hunter, James Remar, and Dustin Hoffman, who I’m dismayed is still working despite multiple sexual harassment and assault allegations.
What impresses is the production design — the costumes especially, a visually restless pallet, dreamscape imagery and, at times, psychedelic visions, indebted both to Metropolis and Dean Motter’s Mr X comic book — channeling a 1980s glam aesthetic, like Coppola thinks he’s making a scifi sequel to The Cotton Club. What it lacks is any coherent forward momentum or suspense, rather it serving up intersecting set-pieces that allow characters to interact and philosophize about time and civilization — from parades to chariot races to parties. The message it seems to be offering is about how enemies can find common ground and optimism in the future through marriage and interbreeding — not exactly the most relevant take on current issues facing America, but sure?
Accusations of self-indulgent twaddle really land when actors start reciting Shakespeare for no reason. You can’t really blame the actors — at least Plaza seems to be having fun, but I wouldn’t say Coppola’s picture does much with the female characters, who are either motivated by their interest in men or using sex to get power.
What Coppola seems to have forgotten in his grand opus is making his audience feel something about everything he throws up on screen. It’s not dull, but it’s also not good.
I keep thinking about this guy and his thoughts on pretension in film.
