The Godfather

Well, after our tough ride yesterday, Brian and I stayed home and watched The Godfather last night.

That movie has always been one of my favorites, and I remember many times sitting up with my father to watch it, once again, on late night TV. It is, in my opinion, one of the best movies ever made. It excels on multiple levels: the acting is superb, the story line is tight, the characters are well developed. The subtleties of the plot weave themselves in so gradually, unobtrusively, that you suddenly find yourself liking Don Corleone, but not necessarily knowing why. Clues that he has old-fasioned values, he has a sense of honor, and he loves his family (and says at one point, "A real man always puts family first") are slipped into the script very carefully, and these are the values that, perhaps, redeem him.

His daughter, Connie, however, is not so sympathetic a character. Being a female, of course, she is not empowered, and has little presence. She is abused by her low-life, cowardly husband. And yet, one does not feel sympathy for her; why? it could be because she is a pathetic little phsycotic thing, who does not seem to have any personality or desire to have one. Hardly her fault, however, in the patriarchal world of the Mafia.

The Godfather, instead of fitting into a genre, defined the genre.

The most amazing thing, really, is that, despite our enjoyment of The Sopranos, and mafia movies in general, Brian had never seen The Godfather. I felt that he could not gain the full impact of the movies that followed, so I went and rented all three-hours of it yesterday, thinking that it would befit a chilly Saturday night at home. Needless to say, Brian loved the movie.