CHAPTER 3: THE NOVEL AND SCREENPLAY
Raymond Benson: Mario Puzo’s novel is quite good and a fun read, but I might want to say he was a better screenwriter than a novelist. I’m not sure how much of the screenplay is his and how much is Coppola’s, but it’s a brilliant piece of work. The novel, of course, deals with some of Vito Corleone’s backstory that we wouldn’t see until The Godfather Part II, two years later, so the first movie covers only part of the novel. It’s pretty faithful, though. There isn’t much deviation from the main plotline or characters.
John Cork: The Godfather was a paperback hit. This is a term no one uses these days, but studio execs of the past understood it. Paramount famously optioned the novel for a few thousand prior to publication. Optioning the rights to novels was a cheap bet at the time. The big publishing houses took on the cost and risks of trying to make the novels bestsellers, and if they were, the studio could exercise their option and generate a movie with something of a built-in audience, often timed closely to the paperback release of the source novel. No one expected The Godfather to sell like it did, staying on The New York Times Fiction Bestseller List for over a year, and becoming one of the fastest-selling hardbacks of all time. Like Love Story, Jaws, and The Exorcist, The Godfather’s success reflected the power of books on popular culture in that era, particularly paperback books. Before we all had smart phones, millions of Americans went about every day with a paperback book that could be carried in their purse or pockets, and could be read while waiting in lines or during work breaks. The ability to make a movie that dovetailed with the paperback release of a must-read novel had the power to make fortunes for publishers, authors, and film studios. The Godfather’s success proved to be a boon to writers, who for decades could count on virtually any novel they could get published being optioned by some studio or producer.
Jon Lewis: The book is fun and/but trashy—the film is much better, much more significant.
Larry Karaszewski (co-screenwriter, Ed Wood, The People vs. Larry Flynt): Coppola called it a potboiler.
Joseph McBride (co-screenwriter, Rock ‘n’ Roll High School; author, Steven Spielberg: A Biography): I think Puzo's novel is a gripping book, full of rich characters, atmosphere, and narrative, though marred by (ahem) one gross, shamelessly pandering chapter about sex. I think that chapter colored Coppola's view of the whole book, somewhat unfairly.
Larry Karaszewski: Coppola credits Puzo for everything. Not sure he was using “potboiler” as an insult.
Joseph McBride: Coppola brought Puzo back to work on Part II and has said he believes in putting the author's name above the title, as he does with these films.
Ray Morton: The Godfather is a masterful example of adaptation. Mario Puzo wrote a terrific book, but it was a lengthy one—full of subplots and digressions that definitely fleshed-out and enhanced the world of the story, but didn’t necessarily advance the narrative. There was simply more material in the book than could be included in even a long feature film. In crafting the screenplay, Coppola and Puzo streamlined the narrative—eliminating most of the subplots and digressions and focusing primarily on the story of Michael Corleone and his transformation from war hero to Mafia don. However, they still managed to incorporate enough small and subtle references to the excised material that all of the novel’s texture came through, creating a fully-realized environment for the film’s story to unfold in.
Amy Holden Jones (screenwriter, Indecent Proposal; co-screenwriter, Mystic Pizza): It’s rare that a great novel makes a great film.
Ray Morton: By focusing the narrative on Michael’s story, Coppola and Puzo were able to bring themes that were inherent in the novel to the fore. The result creates an interesting contrast with the novel: Puzo’s book is solid but pulpy, whereas the narrative in the film is more elevated and elegant. By centering the screenplay on Michael’s journey from the light into the dark and enhancing it with an emphasis on family; on fathers and sons; on the rights and rites of succession; on intra- and extra-familial intrigue and betrayal, as well as a great war between formidable factions, the narrative of the film becomes an epic tragedy worthy of Shakespeare. With all of this, a strong argument can be made that the film represents the best possible version of the Godfather story, as well as the best cinematic adaptation of a novel ever.
CHAPTER 4: THE CAST
Lawrence Grobel (author, Al Pacino: In Conversation with Lawrence Grobel and Conversations with Brando: 10 Days on Brando’s Island): Most film buffs know that Pacino was almost fired from The Godfather for not emoting enough, and Brando was considered “difficult” and wasn’t wanted by the studio. Coppola had to fight for both actors. He suspected that they could deliver strong performances, and he was right. Michael Corleone ranks among Pacino’s best work, along with Dog Day Afternoon, Scarface, and The Merchant of Venice. Playing Michael changed his life, in good ways and bad. Good, because it established him as one of the great actors of his generation. Bad, because it shone a spotlight on him, and that kind of fame made him uncomfortable. As for Brando, there was no doubt that the cast of The Godfather considered him the greatest living actor, but he wasn’t in demand when Coppola wanted him to play the Don. Brando had a quirky career, appearing in films that have stood the test of time, and making several clunkers along the way. But for The Godfather, he knew exactly how he wanted to play it, and he delivered one of his most memorable performances. Both actors played their characters close to the vest. Both have been known to take roles over the top, but for the Don and his son Michael, they kept it subtle, making what they did even more powerful. It’s a great movie, often ranked just above or just below Citizen Kane in polls that rank the greatest films of all time. The entire cast came through, as did Coppola’s direction and Robert Evans’ input as producer.
Raymond Benson: Brando deserved his Oscar win, even though Al Pacino’s Michael is really the protagonist of the film and the lead. One could say Vito is really a supporting role, but we won’t get into the Oscar politics of the many leading roles that are submitted as supporting ones. Pacino deserved an Oscar, too, and I’ll bet the voting was close between him and Joel Grey (who won for Cabaret). At least the movie catapulted Pacino into stardom. Caan and Duvall are both great, Cazale was wonderful, Keaton and Shire are winning, and all the supporting folks like Sterling Hayden, Richard Conte, Richard Castellano, Gianni Russo, and Abe Vigoda are terrific. One standout hardly anyone talks about is Al Lettieri as Sollozzo—what a great performance and a superb villain!
Jon Lewis: Coppola is a terrific director of actors—Brando’s performance is mannered and maybe dates a bit; Pacino’s is a revelation, really, as Michael is mostly stoic, inert, it’s all happening in his head, behind his eyes.
Lee Pfeiffer: There isn’t a weak link anywhere. Everyone is at the top of their game. Brando was revitalized, probably because he knew the studio didn’t want him. What better way to shame his doubters than to deliver the performance of a lifetime? The superb work of the major actors is self-evident, but I’d like to commemorate the performances of the supporting cast: Richard Castellano as Clemenza, Richard Conte as Barzini, Al Lettieri as Sollozzo, John Marley as Woltz, Abe Vigoda as Tessio, Alex Rocco as Moe Greene and Gianni Russo, who had never acted before, terrific as Carlo. Same with singer Al Martino, who acquits himself well. It’s a wonder he didn’t go on to a successful screen career. If there is a standout among standouts it has to be John Cazale, who is superb as Fredo and would go on to a meatier role in the next film, wherein he should have won an Oscar. He made precious few films in his brief career before dying young, but each one of them was nominated for Best Picture.
Ray Morton: The Godfather has one of the all-time great casts—along with American Graffiti (which was produced by Coppola and also cast by Fred Roos), it launched or enhanced the careers of more great actors than any other picture of its era. As Vito Corleone, Marlon Brando delivered the third in his triptych of iconic film performances (the other two being Stanley Kowalski [from A Streetcar Named Desire] and Terry Malloy [from On the Waterfront]). Al Pacino’s smoldering performance made him a star. James Caan, Robert DuVall, Richard Castellano, Al Lettieri, and Diane Keaton had all been around for a while, but The Godfather boosted them all to a different level. Sterling Hayden and Richard Conte got the best roles they’d had in quite some time and introduced them to an entirely new audience. The film gave John Cazale and Abe Vigoda screen careers. There isn’t an actor in the cast who doesn’t give a pitch-perfect performance (even Vito Scotti, who made a career of playing cartoony, stereotypical Italians, comes across as wonderfully warm and real). A case can be made that almost every member of the cast gave their career-best performances in The Godfather.
CHAPTER 5: THE PRODUCTION DESIGN
Jane Barnwell (author, Production Design for Screen: Visual Storytelling in Film and Television): The atmospheric creation of a place in time builds a compelling story world, distinctive and coherent. Tavoularis deftly employs the design tools of space, light, color and set decoration leading us into the hidden world of The Godfather. Colorful vibrant textures of family life play out in the exterior settings contrasting with the minimal color palette of the home office. Nested within the large family home is the office which visualizes the significance of family and community while spatially creating boundaries between it and the criminal operation. Closed doors and blinds further separate and enclose characters in the wooden panelled masculine space carved out in rich dark brown and warm neutral colors. Decorated with personal possessions Don Corleone’s office reflects his interior landscape and humanity. We see these aspects stripped away when Michael takes over and the office becomes an empty container for a more ruthless head of the family.
Ray Morton: In the late 1960s and early 1970s the aesthetics of filmmaking moved more and more toward realism in all areas: acting, writing, cinematography, and so on. When it came to production design, real exteriors replaced backlots and real interiors often took the place of sets constructed on soundstages. And when sets were constructed, the goal was to make them look as authentic as possible, rather than follow the highly stylized settings of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Dean Tavoularis was certainly not the only production designer to adopt this realistic approach, but he was arguably the master of it. And his work in The Godfather (along with The Godfather Part II) is arguably his masterpiece. Every location Tavoularis chose for the film is the perfect backdrop for the scenes played in them. Every set—whether a dressed-up existing location or a set constructed on a soundstage—feels like a real, lived-in place. The Godfather is a period piece and Tavoularis did a brilliant job recreating that period (1945-1955). And he did this not just by—as most production designers would have done—dressing the sets in furnishings and knick-knacks of those years, but also from the decades that preceded it, because Tavoularis knew that most of us don’t decorate our lives with the objects of the current year, but rather from a variety of years from the time we are born until the present. These minor details are not likely noticed by most moviegoers, but the fact that they are there registers on an unconscious level and just makes every set feel all the more authentic. Tavoularis also enhanced the film’s realism by building sets that not only showed us the room the scene takes place in, but the other rooms down the hall, where life outside the scene was going on simultaneously in its own way apart from what the principal characters were doing. This is especially evident in the scenes set in the Corleone homes. Again, it’s a dimension that is likely not consciously noticed by the audience, but since this is how most of us experience the locations in our lives, it again enhances the realism all the more. Finally, Tavoularis had a talent for choosing colors and textures for his sets that, when combined with Gordon Willis’s brilliant lighting, perfectly conveyed the mood and emotion of the scene. Thus, Tavoularis did what all those working on a film need to do—use their talents and craft to help tell the story.
