The Godfather: cinema's greatest achievement

The Godfather (1972) written and directed by Francis Ford Coppola, from the novel by Mario Puzo

It's hard to think of much to say about a movie as highly regarded as The Godfather. Widely considered to be the most influential piece of modern art created, for many, it is eternal, sitting at the top of the mountain when it comes to Television and Cinema.

Personally, The Godfather has always held a special place in my heart. Being half-Italian, from an early age people around me were constantly talking about and referencing The Godfather as the ultimate movie. At around 9 (which looking back, was an absurdly young age to watch this film), my Dad sat me down and announced that tonight we were watching The Godfather. And whilst at 9 years old, the film didn't resonate with me the same way as it does today, I can still remember being totally amazed by what I was watching. As I mentioned, the movie has only grown in prominence for me as I've gotten older, and here are the reasons why...

The first 20 minutes of the movie tell us all we need to know about Vito Corleone and the rest of the Corleone family. We open the film with an extreme close-up of a man's face, as he monologues, the camera slowly pans out revealing our titular character, Vito Corleone, who is sat quietly listening with his back to the camera. The shot holds whilst continuing to pan out slowly for just under 3 minutes until we finally cut to Vito, showing the audience that he is a man of significance. Marlon Brando's performance in the remainder of the scene is flawless and sets the tone for his character perfectly. His unique mannerisms, voice, and line delivery all set him apart from other protagonists you see in the film, and make him distinct. On top of that, the writing in this scene is essentially flawless; I find myself quoting it almost daily. The cinematography, sound design, and editing of the entire wedding sequence are also expertly done. Director Francis Ford Coppola's choice to refrain from using any close-ups, and instead use wide shots, means that as a viewer, it's as though you are watching a real family. This instantly immerses you into the plot and setting of the movie.

One of the biggest accomplishments of The Godfather trilogy is the character of Michael Corleone, and in particular, his development throughout the three movies. In this first movie specifically, the foundation for his change is thoroughly planted through meticulous writing and nuanced performance from Al Pacino. He is introduced to the audience as a bright, optimistic young man with all-American dreams. In his first scene, he is placed at a distance from his family and he is the only one of Vito's children with no involvement in the Corleone crime family. He even verbalises this distance to his girlfriend at the time, stating "that's my family Kay that's not me." But by the end of the movie, he is cold-blooded, ruthless, and smart as the leader of the Corleone crime family. Michael's change in character seems to be catalysed by an attempt at his father's life, which gives him an initial push into the crime side of his family. It's not until the movie's end that he fully transitions from civilian to mobster, but when Michael visits his father at the hospital, the seeds for his change are undeniably planted. When he arrives at the hospital, Michael finds that his father’s room is unguarded, leaving the Don vulnerable to a second assassination attempt. In an attempt to ward off any threat to his father, Michael coerces Enzo, the baker (who had come to visit his father with flowers), into standing outside the hospital with him appearing as a guard. As hoped, this deters the passing car of the assassins. Michaels's initial quick thinking displays his adeptness in critical situations, however, it is the next 15 seconds that truly give an indication of his upcoming future as the ruthless leader of the Corleone crime family. After the assassins have left, Enzo tries in vain to light a cigarette. He is so terrified, that his hands are violently shaking. Michael on the other hand is unfazed by what just happened, and reaches over, takes the lighter, and lights Enzo's cigarette. Where Enzo's hands are shaking, Michael's hands are stable. Somehow, in this extremely dangerous situation, he has stayed completely calm. Al Pacino's performance of course adds a ton of value to this scene, the look on his face conveys to the audience that he realises his own lack of fear. But for me, it's the editor, who through choosing to linger on both the cigarette case and then Michael's face, transforms this otherwise insignificant moment, into something of extreme meaning.

It almost feels cliche to call The Godfather the greatest movie of all time, and for a long time, I held off on calling it such. However, after watching it again (for probably the 50th time) a few weeks ago, I finally accepted that this is the case. Not only is it highly entertaining for its entire 2 hour 55 minute run time, but it features incredible performances, a highly emotive, influential plot, expert writing, precise editing, stunning set design and cinematography, and tying it all together, clinical film making from director and genius Francis Ford Coppola. The Godfather indeed is the best of the best. A true modern masterpiece, which will never be forgotten.

American Psycho: a critique of men and capitalist society

American Psycho (2000) written by Mary Harron & Guinevere Turner, from the novel by Bret Easton Ellis

More than 22 years after the film's release, American Psycho is still as popular as ever. Not only is it beloved by multiple generations of audiences, but it is also the constant subject of Instagram memes and TikTok trends. The film was a success upon release, receiving generally positive reviews from critics and earning over $27 million at the box office, however, it feels as though its satirical look at class, sex, and gender has resonated more and more with audiences as time has gone on, leading to its status as a classic movie.

One of American Psycho's greatest achievements is the way in which it has been able to stay relevant in modern film discourse. I think the main reason for this is its polarising and thought-provoking approach to gender, which has some viewers regarding it as a feminist masterpiece, and some viewing it as misogynistic. Whilst it is undoubtedly a movie about men, for men, I'd argue that it is actually a harsh critique of masculinity as a whole, and this can be seen through the movie's portrayal of the main character, Patrick Bateman. Bateman is seemingly what every man wants to be; he's fit, wealthy, attractive, and admired. He also has a beautiful Fiancée, a disciplined morning routine (which I'll go into more detail on later), and superb music taste... the list just goes on. This makes him appealing to the average viewer, with women sexualising him for his style and good looks, and men admiring him for his wealth and popularity. However, what he lacks is what lies beneath. Bateman himself actually comments on this in one of the movie's first scenes, stating "I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust." Through this line, the movie's director, Mary Harron, is criticizing the way in which capitalism romanticises outward appearance and disregards internal feelings. Bateman's obsession with maintaining and improving his physical appearance is also a clear critique of capitalism, a system which leads people to believe that happiness can be bought in the form of a brand new suit. He is a man who has everything but feels nothing, and that concept undoubtedly resonates with viewers.

His desperate need to fit in, whilst also wanting to stand out is another interesting comment on capitalist society, and Harron uses this notion to poke fun at the unoriginality of corporate life. Unable to differentiate himself from every other 'yuppie', Bateman places gargantuan importance on the smallest of details. When mistaken for one of his colleagues, he states "It seems logical because Marcus also works at P&P and in fact, does the same exact thing I do and he also has a penchant for Valentino suits and Oliver Peoples glasses. Marcus and I even go to the same barber, although I have a slightly better haircut." However, despite his self-realised similarity to his colleague, he openly insults him referring to him as a 'dickhead'. Because of this, Bateman's destain at being mistaken for his corporate clone, Marcus, is quite hilarious. Later in the movie, his decision to kill Paul Allen is sparked by a business card that looks almost identical to his own, and he experiences “sheer panic” at the realisation that Allen’s apartment is slightly more expensive than his. These minute differences mean everything to Bateman’s perceptions of social hierarchy and result in consequences so horrific you almost forget their ridiculous origins. In an early scene, now heralded as an iconic moment in cinema, Bateman follows his meticulous morning routine and gives the audience a direct insight into his social values and beliefs. Christian Bale, who plays our protagonist, narrates in a cold American accent, obsessively detailing everything from the number of stomach crunches the character can do, to the exact kind of water-activated gel cleanser he uses in the shower. Additionally, by starting off his introductory monologue with his address instead of his name, Bateman is essentially telling the audience that he sees his material wealth as more indicative of his identity than his actual name. To Bateman, his name means nothing because whilst "There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction... there is no real me. Only an entity, something illusory." His outward appearance is simply a shell. It's a construction that Bateman has chosen to embody, rather than a representation of his true psychopathic self. The good-guy persona, which he displays in the first quarter of the film, is a complete and utter lie, and this can be seen in a few ways. For instance, at a dinner with friends, he performatively states "We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, oppose racial discrimination, and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women." Later in the film, he murders a homeless man and several women. This is an example of the movie's matte black humour.

Unfortunately, despite being satirical, there are many men who take American Psycho seriously. The rise in morning routine videos such as this one are undoubtedly inspired by Bateman's, and this is an example of men misunderstanding the movie's intended message, and mistaking Bateman as a hero rather than a villain. This is extremely common in the incel community, where Patrick Bateman has become an icon, idolised for his wealth, good looks, and ‘success’ with women. Of course, this success includes violently assaulting sex workers, but that detail rarely comes up.

I've seen many men referring to the character as a ‘sigma male’, meaning a man who is on the same level as an alpha but sits outside the social hierarchy by his own choice. This is a pretty baffling label to be assigned to anyone, let alone Bateman, who as I mentioned earlier, is by his own admission desperate to fit in.

The misunderstanding of the movie's satire reminds me of the discourse around the movie Fight Club, which was also released at the end of the 21st century. Like American Psycho, David Fincher's Fight Club is a satirical critique of masculinity, which many men misunderstand, by choosing to idolise the very characters at which they are supposed to be laughing at. To me, this is indicative of the 'crisis of masculinity, a term which refers to the shift in our societal structure that has changed what it means to be masculine, and led to men feeling disillusioned and devoid of purpose. Because of this, some men, such as the ones who idolise Bateman, end up gravitating toward powerful but morally questionable role models whose violence, in their eyes, represents what it means to be 'a true man'.

The relatability of Bateman's character could also be a reason why so many men seem to connect with him. They see their frustrations and desires realised in him, albeit in an exaggerated way. In creating a character who is laughably evil yet strangely understandable, Harron created a monster. A monster who many men find themselves idolising.

This misunderstanding of the movie's core values, brings into question whether a film with such fraught associations can still be enjoyed on its own terms?

In my view, it can, as the divisiveness of American Psycho reveals the beauty of Harron’s satire. This is a film so purposefully embroiled in a controversy that the polarised responses all feed into the unknowable enigma of Bateman, making him an endlessly fascinating character.