Watching this, as part of the AFI Top 100 (10th Anniversary Edition) hardly feels like work.
Isn't that the way all these are supposed to feel?
Film 62
62. "The Godfather" (AFI Rank #2)
Let's talk about reason #1. The opening 25 minutes of the film. I posted on Facebook that the opening 32 minutes of this film are the greatest minutes of exposition ever put on film. The more that I think of it, the action of the film really starts right at the termination of the Wedding, so the scene with Woltz and Tom Hagen, while expository, is action. Beginning the film with a 3 minute slow zoom away from a pleading Bonasera, who is asking the obviously very powerful Don Vito Corleone for justice for his little girl, is a stroke of genius. Everything we need to know about this man, and this film, occurs in that long take. "I believe in America." Yes, this film is about a crime family, but it's about American Capitalism, the American Dream, and the American Nightmare. We then are given a LOT of characters thrown at us, and we learn just a little bit about each one of them for the next 25 minutes. The Don is a powerful man, who has 4 sons (one adopted). They are Sonny, the hotheaded philandering oldest son, Fredo, the weak and shy second son, Tom Hagen, his adopted son who was trained as a lawyer, and who is the Don's number one advisor, and Michael, a war hero who has nothing to do with the family business. He has a daughter, named Connie, who just married Carlo, who is being shut out of the family business. He does a lot of favors for people, and has muscle/ruthlessness to back him up. He's also got cold blooded killers and thieves working for him. Even the character of Paulie, who eventually betrays the Don, is exposed here, and we get a sense that he ain't quite right. I've shown this film to a lot of people. When the Wedding scene concludes, I ask, "How long do you think that took?" The answer is usually 5-10 minutes. It's 25 minutes. Films average between 90-120 minutes. Think about that. The length of a little less than a third of most films is used in exposition...and we can't even feel how long it took. That, my friends, is filmmaking. 
Reason #2. The opening photo of this post shows a brief moment from my favorite scene in the film, for any number of reasons, but specifically for a couple of things. For those who don't know, this scene is the third in the film, occurring just after Woltz has awakened to find the head of his $600K horse in his bed, because of his refusal to honor Don Corleone's request to have Johnny Fontane, a Hollywood crooner, and his Godson, put into a new war film, which would catapult Johnny back to the top. That horse head scene is iconic. But what follows, for me, is what makes this film great. We are taken to the Don's office, where he has a meeting with Sollozzo, who wishes Don Corleone to help him establish his heroin trade in New York. During this meeting, Marlon Brando, who basically gives an acting clinic in this film, steps up to Sollozzo, and says, "Mr. Sollozzo, I met with you because I heard you were a man to be treated with respect." During this, he pours a drink for Sollozzo, and then, in a move that can be interpreted one of two ways, brushes some lint off Sollozzo's pants. Either he's treating him with respect, or he's not. I've always leaned towards respect, but the longer I spend with this scene, the more I think it's a "fuck you very much" moment. Then, when this meeting is over, we get the photo above moment. Flowers are delivered. Brando asks "What's this?" Hagen replies, "They're from Johnny, he's starring in that new war picture." Brando doesn't even flinch. There is no recognition of what was done to get him that job. It's business as usual, and if you don't understand that, you better watch the film again. That, my friends, is filmmaking. Reason #3. Abe Vigoda as Tessio, and his condemnation. It's a brutal scene, and it's exquisitely filmed, and exquisitely acted. I can't comment more. The resigned moment in that...Jesus. It's cold.
Acting. I've mentioned Brando. His Don, his whole persona in this, is larger than life, while being completely grounded. You can see him making choices not to overplay everything, all the time. His heart breaks, twice, in front of us, and the subtlety, the weight...it's amazing. Al Pacino is also terrific in this, as he hasn't become the caricature that Pacino became in later life. He's really acting, and his Michael is among my favorite film villains. I mentioned that I enjoy villains who have the choice to be bad. Michael has the world in front of him, and turns his back on it, and becomes even more evil than his father ever was. Ruthless, calculating, it's a wonderful character. James Caan as Sonny hits all the right notes, as does poor John Cazale as Fredo. Robert Duvall is the voice of reason throughout, and his intensity, yet distance as Tom Hagen...cold. Just cold. Diane Keaton is her least Diane Keatonesque, and makes me respect her talent, like Pacino's that much more. Keaton obviously chooses to act the way she does a great deal of the time, and that's revealed in this.
Francis Ford Coppola did not win Best Director for this. That year the award went to Bob Fosse's "Cabaret." I think, as great as "Cabaret" is, that if the Academy had it to vote on again, they'd probably go a different way. I trust they would. What we watch is an incredibly tight film, whose story and acting performances engage us from start to finish. That it is so great on top of that....well...isn't that the director's job?
One thing that I have to agree on, that came out of discussion with Julie. The plot device of Sonny coming rushing to Connie's (Talia Shire) aid...that's just not plausible. There is no way, given his in-laws, that Carlo (Gianni Russo) is regularly beating up Connie, so the only two times he does it are a set up for Don Barzini? What happens if Hagen gets a hold of Sonny before he goes screaming away in his car. What happens if Sonny takes a different route? No, that bit of film, while dramatic, and stunning, is simply implausible. Completely. There. That's a fault.
Other things: oranges appear if something bad is going to happen to someone. The cinematographer claimed it was to add color, because the film was shot so dark, but it's odd that the timing of their inclusion always corresponds to something bad happening to someone. Watch the film for oranges again. The score. It's haunting. It fits. It's as much a part of the film as anything else.
I'm going to wrap this up. I can't write more, or I'll never stop. This is my favorite film, and I will likely never change that. I didn't talk about Sicily. I didn't talk about the moment of Michael noticing that his nerves didn't even flinch when faced with a highly dangerous moment. I didn't talk about Moe Greene. I didn't talk about the baptism scene, and its bloody sideshow. I didn't talk about all the memorable quotes. I didn't talk about the last shot. There's too much here to talk about. Watch the film. Then, let's you and me sit down and discuss it, because I guarantee I can go on for HOURS about this film.
Ebert talked more generally, but I may as well print his thoughts as mine. It's here.
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