The Godfather

This post is in the theme Influences on my own Creative Work. Read the first.

January 10, New York: Another post, another incredible Francis Ford Coppola film. What is there possibly to say about The Godfather that’s not already been said? That Al Pacino is such an amazing actor? Or Marlon Brando? Or James Caan? Or Robert Duvall? That any of these men so fully occupy their roles you forget how famous they are and everything else they’ve ever played?

Can you talk about the genius of the first scene and its slow zoom out from the face of the mortuary owner asking a favor of Don Corleone? Or the textbook perfect sound design of the passing train drowning out Salazo’s killing in the restaurant? I say textbook perfect because it was literally what was taught from in film school.

I love this movie. And the second. An unalloyed and pure love. One of Jill and I’s favorite nights early in our relationship was when we watched both and ate an unlimited supply of butter pasta and garlic bread on our couch. (We would have done the same with Star Wars, but we could never figure out what to serve.)

You probably haven’t re-watched The Godfather enough. You should do that right now.

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