An artist’s ambition often begins with a vision of the future. A vision removed from structure, capital, and logical coherence is typically the catalyst to realize that fleeting moment with an emotional texture that was never there before. This is the way forward for an artist driven by the tension between uncertainty and hope for gain, from the inception of that idea to the realization of it, and time will tick without interruption. Artists attempt to control time as much they can through whichever mode of expression they’ve elected to filter it through. A painter will color it, an architect will build it, a dancer will condense it, and a filmmaker may lose their mind in their attempt.
For Francis Ford Coppola (the visionary behind the American masterworks of The Godfather I/II, Apocalypse Now, and The Conversation), he may have lost his mind once or twice before the self-funded passion project, Megalopolis. Coppola envisions a post-modern America as an extended branch of the Roman Empire before its collapse in the fifth century. Here, in late-21st century New York which was once the proving ground of Italian families vying for power in the mid-20th century, New York is a dazzling mirage of contemporary trouble dressed in the theatrical garb of Shakespearean conflict.
With the abandoned corks of empty wine bottles from Coppola’s winery that supplied him with the funds for Megalopolis, the mega-budget production has become the most divisive movie of the year. The years of troubled shoots and casting calls for some of the industry’s most immoral souls have spelled nothing but a disaster for the ballooning hysteria surrounding the film. Now 41 years in the mind of one of American cinema’s greatest visionaries, Megalopolis follows up on Coppola’s deranged ambition of confronting the “what and why of existence” he answered to Film Comment in 1983. What's become of Megalopolis is a true cinematic vision of a future where America’s innate ability to be a theatrical iteration of itself is in lockstep with Coppola’s fascination with an empire without forward thinkers – philosophers and artists, the architects of time.
Francis Ford Coppola is no stranger to inflated budgets and difficult shooting schedules, but this time around he’s on his own time and money. Still, a budget ballooning above the reported $120 million of his money is a recipe for a disastrous box office performance. But if there’s anything art doesn’t care about, it’s profit. The quality of a movie will persist regardless of ticket stubs, box office gurus, pesky awards season enforcers, and failure or success, Megalopolis denies a conversation with those outlets. There’s no winning them over anyhow. Coppola’s interests are in the now and the potential future of an artist’s vision of the forever, and the only way to understand it is to talk through it in spite of meaningless qualifiers elevated by the landscape around it. This doesn’t mean Megalopolis is a great movie based on its singular merits, but it does exist as a conversational piece with value placed on introspection.
Coppola isn’t asking much of the dialogue that will be disregarded as theatrical drivel. Although the characters’ lines range from quoting the great Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius to ridiculous sex jokes, there is a satirical element in play at all times. The moments pulled from Shakespeare or Aurelius instill a deeper philosophical purpose, and the more hammy, sex-riddled verbiage reinforces New Rome’s disbelief in a higher concept of thinking. There’s an antagonistic element toward the romantic spewing of Coppola’s self-insert, Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), as most characters denounce him with their own variations of hateful rhetoric. These characters are often TV personalities, CEOs, chairmen, mayors, and buffoonish nephews slithering toward power. Despite their social prestige, their vision of a better future for New Rome is only in service of maintaining the established order. They have no meaningful consideration for change, and their idiolect enhances it when filtered through nasty remarks. The dialogue may not have a lyricism that sings, but if you tune your mind to how characters approach thoughtfulness versus maintaining order and class, there is a rhythmic quality to its terms.
Coppola rarely slumps when it comes to maximizing the visual potential of his ideas. Here, there are a few egregious instances that stink of rushed reshoots and compositions in the vein of a commercial, but those moments are typically brief. Between them, Coppola indulges in manic montages and spectacularly mundane dramaturgy. Whether that’s the cause of a misplaced budget or the intended mise-en-scène is to be determined by each viewer, but there is a quality of life to it that feels true to Coppola’s aging style. He’s always excelled at maximizing every dollar, and although it rarely appears in some instances, I find it best not to worry about the value of money when gauging the cinematic purpose of an idea.
Coppola actually finds a way to explore an artistic purpose even when the film’s sequencing is narratively disjointed. But again, the functions of narrative, plot, and arcs can’t be forced to check off boxes when the method of visual expression is remarkably unique. There is a clear level of intent on Coppola’s part that wants the viewer to approach the film on its terms by accepting it as a work that is in over its head, as well as grappling with the ideas the film is interested in. And Coppola makes it abundantly clear what he’s focused on exploring even if it doesn’t make much political sense. Still, the gestures are there to acknowledge an emotional presence grappling with the tensions of an artist working within the parameters of time.
Megalopolis ultimately wins me over through the sheer admiration it has for craftsmanship and the potential that’ll bloom from considering the innermost parts of ourselves that yearn to create. It is by no means a structurally sound film, yet, there is an emotional cohesion to it in every regard. I find it indisputable. Only a filmmaker as capable as Coppola could present us with the opportunity to reconsider the images, tactics, and ruses that surround us each and every day by providing the viewer with enough room to place their own interpretation of the film. Which, if you look at the box office, there aren’t many films that let the viewer reconsider their experience. So many films, even the good ones, do too much work for us, and Megalopolis takes pride in not being limited to the confines of standard cinematic practice. Megalopolis is what you take out of it whether you reject the thesis or not.
It’s no surprise Megalopolis ended up being such a confounding film. There’s loads of ambition, a plethora of ideas, and tons of effects and extras akin to the many that have decorated Coppola’s films before. A film of this caliber, with this much talent, doesn’t have to work today to make a mark on the conversation we’ll have about it moving forward. In an interview Brian De Palma recently had with Bilge Ebiri for Vulture, De Palma says, “… but what is sometimes the style of the day is not the right way to praise something innovative.” Megalopolis may not be innovative, but the material within the film offers us a chance to elevate our ambition to a level that renders a future true to humanity's capabilities beyond the constructs of societal structure and time.
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