Francis Ford Coppola always considered The Godfather Part III, the third feature in his trilogy based on Mario Puzo's famous novel, now celebrating its thirtieth anniversary, to be an epilogue. Hence the "coda", which is apparently what Coppola and Puzo wanted to name the film. Despite Paramount Studios rejecting their idea and ordering the film to (logically) be called The Godfather Part III (after The Godfather and The Godfather Part II), Coppola has now revisited this famously mediocre conclusion in a director's cut titled Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone.
That title is important, or so we're told. Coda, according to the dictionary, means the concluding passage of a piece or movement, typically forming an addition to the basic structure. Craig Elvy at Screenrant argues that in one simple name change, Coppola has fixed the biggest problem with his 1990 film. According to Elvy, "When audiences hear 'The Godfather Part III,' they expect a cinematic epic on par with the 1970s classics, but the third effort was never intended or written to deliver the same experience. By billing itself as 'The Godfather Part III,' viewers are destined for disappointment even before the opening credits." In other words, naming the film "Coda" (which translates to "tail", or the ending of a song, in Italian) as Coppola and Puzo intended allows audiences to understand what kind of final film they were attempting to present.
I disagree. Audiences are smart, far smarter than Hollywood usually gives them credit for, and yet it's doubtful that audiences would have understood the difference between the final film as an epilogue and the final film as a piece of cinematic artwork with intended equal footing as the previous two films. Those who saw it were disappointed in 1990, and its title had nothing to do with it. Thus, what worked in Part III also works in Coda, but what didn't work in Part III still doesn't work in Coda. The elements that don't work are well-known by now: the absence of Robert Duvall (due to salary disagreements with the studio) as Tom Hagan, the adopted son of Vito Corleone and family consigliere; a convoluted plot involving a conspiracy regarding the death of the Pope and a papal banking scandal; and the perhaps nepotistic casting of Sophia Coppola as Michael's daughter.
While the consensus over the years is that the reaction to the film itself may have been a little too unfair, Sophia Coppola's performance still divides viewers. Julia Roberts had been cast in the role but then dropped out due to scheduling conflicts. Winona Ryder took over but then dropped out due to nervous exhaustion (though she would be directed by Coppola two years later in Bram Stoker's Dracula). Running out of options, Coppola cast his daughter. It's true that she was a little out of her league with giants in the scenes, but in this new director's cut, I wouldn't call the performance bad. It's probably the most naturalistic performance in the film, which can come as a relief given that many of the older, experienced stars overdo it from time to time. Sophia Coppola has recently said that while the reactions had embarrassed her, it didn't destroy her. This is our gain, for she won an Academy Award fourteen years later for the screenplay for Lost in Translation, joining her father, grandfather (Godfather composer Carmine Coppola) and cousin Nicolas Coppola (better known as Nicolas Cage) as Oscar winners.
Like the two films before it, this one starts with a party in which every problem the Godfather will need to deal with is essentially laid before him. Al Pacino returns as Michael Corleone, the Godfather, who now attempts to be the man he promised Kay he would become all those years ago: legitimate. The casinos have been sold, and there is nothing illicit about his empire, or so he tells the archbishop (played by Donal Donnelly). Michael knows that the archbishop, as head of the Vatican bank, has accumulated hundreds of millions of dollars in debt. Michael's offer is to purchase $600 million worth of shares in Immobiliare, making him the largest shareholder. But the primary mess beyond these financial situations Michael has to deal with involves his nephew, Vincent Mancini (the son of Michael's brother Sonny, played here by Andy Garcia). Like his father before him, Vincent is a boyishly charming yet unpredictably violent hothead. He feuds with Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna), who has taken control of the Corleone family business in New York City. Despite Michael's distrust of Zasa, he scolds Vincent for not seeking peace. Peace with Zasa is not something Vincent wants, so Vincent takes a big bite into Zasa's ear.
That still is not the end of Michael's problems. His son, Anthony (Franc D'Ambrosio) wants not to pursue a career in law, but in music. He's supported by his mother, Kay (Diane Keaton), who has long since separated from Michael. Kay fears that now that Michael is so respectable, he's even more dangerous than he has ever been. Even though she hasn't seen him in eight years, when she meets him again at the opening party scene, it's easy to see how much she despises him. She looks wonderful, though, he tells her as he quickly eats cake and doesn't make much eye contact.
While it may not be as unforgettable as the two films that preceded it, The Godfather Part III is not without its distinctive features, namely the thrilling helicopter attack scene, the ambush during a street parade, and Michael's famous line: "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in." However, that iconic line would be so much better if we had more of the calm acting Pacino became famous for in the 1970s. While his work in Part III is more subdued than his acting in Scarface, it still is the Pacino of the 80s, 90s, and beyond. In other words, he screams a lot, and the film suffers when he does.
Much of what's disappointing about the film is not so much Sophia Coppola's acting but the film's script. Despite some memorable dialogue, there are problems with how it presents these characters we've known for so long and the situations they're in. It's right to focus on Michael's obsession with redemption, but the film tries too hard to come full circle with everything. Coppola and Puzo also try to give Connie (Michael's sister, played in all three films by Coppola's sister, Talia Shire) something more to do than in the first film (in which she is only there to be a victim of domestic violence) and the second film (in which she's only there to...not really do anything). But changing her from passive to active, as she backs Vincent's moves to be more aggressive when dealing with the family's enemies, has mixed results. So, too, do many of the scenes in which Michael and Kay try to bury the hatchet and move on; they often come across as delightful yet dull. And the Vatican plot the family finds themselves in is interesting, but Coppola and Puzo do not tie the two together in a convincing way.
Despite the disappointment that the film is famous for, it wasn't the disaster some think it is. The film earned $137 million worldwide, finishing second in its opening weekend behind only Home Alone. It wasn't much of a critical failure, either. While Coda has an impressive 91 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, The Godfather Part III still received a rating of 68 percent and seven Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, making the trilogy one of only two to have all three of its films nominated for Best Picture (the other being the Lord of the Rings trilogy). One of those nominations went to Garcia, who was nominated for Best Supporting Actor. One of his competitors for that award was Pacino, who was nominated for his role as Big Boy Caprice in Dick Tracy, a performance that is superior to his work in The Godfather Part III. They both lost to Joe Pesci for Goodfellas.
I didn't revisit the theatrical release version of The Godfather Part III before watching Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. Why would I? One negative consequence of that, though, is that because I hadn't seen Part III in more than fifteen years, it was remarkably difficult to figure out what has been changed by Coppola. The very final scene is definitely different, and most people who see both, even if there has been a big gap between the viewings, will probably notice. The opening is quite different, too; part of that I knew immediately, and part of that I learned later.
But ultimately, even though a few minutes have been shaved off, some scenes have been rearranged, and the opening and ending are different, it still feels the same. Or, as Owen Gleiberman terrifically put it: "It's the same damn movie." That's a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your perspective. I fell in the "it's-not-great-but-it's-not-awful" camp who modestly defended The Godfather Part III, but Coda largely left me unable or unwilling to enthusiastically champion it as a shining masterpiece, as I think some had expected it would become after this director's cut. In essence, it's still the least memorable of the three films.
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