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muse-letter \’myüz-‘le-tər noun
1: a personal message, inspired by a muse of one's own creation, addressed to a person or organization, in the course of which, the sender becomes absorbed in thought, especially turning something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively.
2: a letter from a poet, or one who envisions oneself as such, in which he or she “muses” on that which is perceived to be news, or newsworthy, usually in some ironic or absurd way.
pre November 2018
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The 24th of this month will mark the 50th anniversary of the Godfather movie. The American Film Institute ranks it 2nd among the 100 Greatest Films ever made. Just behind Citizen Kane, the darling of the effete aficionados of cinema history and legend. Which often intertwine. But I suppose Orson Welles that ends well. Rosebud.
I’ve done 50th year movie anniversary retrospectives in these letters before. They include, The Seven Year Itch (2005), Breakfast at Tiffany’s (2012), The Graduate (2017), 2001: A Space Odyssey (2019), and now for a classic far beyond any of these, The Godfather (2022). But before the movie, there was the book. And before the book, there was the man. Each a distinct and cultural phenomenon in its own right.
Starting first, with the last.
What are the odds of a kid of poor Neopolitan immigrants, who were semi-illiterate and spoke very little English, raised in Hell’s Kitchen during the Depression, at age sixteen declaring that he would become a great writer, and did? At least when measured commercially.
It’s a bet that Puzo himself would never have taken, though gambling was his addiction. One that would cost him dearly in Vegas at the roulette wheel and crap tables. Though he would claim, it was an investment made in the course of doing research for his writing. Which would literally be true for his novel Fools Die which followed The Godfather, and is primarily set in Vegas.
Predictably, that book gave critics license to do a “hit” job on him. Also predictable, that it would sell. But 67 weeks on The New York Times Best Seller list? And with Puzo being paid a record-shattering price of $2.5 million for the paperback rights?? (He had “only” gotten $420,000 for The Godfather. Which was an unheard of record smashing amount at the time). Further irking the literati.
How dare this guy, overweight, unattractive (even by his own account), a terrible dresser, a street guy—hardly a literary lion—be so successful! Again?! Norman Mailer was apoplectic.
While his literary merits might be questioned, that he was a great storyteller, cannot. As was first noticed by his teachers at Commerce High School in the Union Square district in New York, who told him he had potential to be a writer. His further encouragement and inspiration came from reading Dostoevsky. Another long shot. I might have thought Hemingway. Yet (in a life of “Yets”), he would be 30 years old, married, with two kids and a third on the way, before his first short story, Last Christmas, was published in 1950.
It would be another five years before his first novel, The Dark Arena saw the light of day. Puzo considered this book, based on his World War II experience (he had signed up after Pearl Harbor), to be a work of art. And the critics agreed. Though sales were dismal. He netted only $3,500 from it, but it was desperately needed. He was always broke, what with his frequent gambling losses. Though he would always claim he was not a degenerate gambler.
His "put-food-on-the-table" money came by writing pulp fiction at a place called Magazine Management Company. His boss was Bruce Jay Friedman, who also would become a novelist and screenwriter/playwright of some note. Friedman always marveled at how Puzo “...cheerfully pumped out stories by the dozen.”
His second novel—ten years later—The Fortunate Pilgrim, was clearly autobiographical and set in his Hell’s Kitchen days. Which I read a few decades ago, and loved, as did the critics. But mirroring his first book... another work of ”art"... excellent reviews... a mere $3,000 netted... a commercial flop.
Yet, Puzo had always maintained an unshaken belief: “I could write a best selling novel whenever I chose to do so.” Now broke yet again (even owing the IRS money), and having turned 46, “My writing friends, my family, my children and my creditors all assured me now was the time to put up or shut up.” It was 1966.
For the next three years, he worked feverishly on his book. While also turning out three adventure stories a month on a free-lance basis for his old company, from which he had quite his salaried position. He wrote night and day and into the wee small hours of the morning. And on the 1,000th day, he rested.
On March 10, 1969, The Godfather was born.
Upon the book’s publication, the assumption was that Mario Puzo had to be “connected.” How else could he seemingly know so much about the underworld? Go into such detail? But this wasn’t just another mobster book. No stereotypes here. These seemed like real people. Especially, to the real mob people.
Unsurprisingly, like most immigrants and their offspring, they too bought into the American dream. Which boiled down to building a solid foundation for one's family, providing a good home, and working towards the growth and education of their children. Achieving that goal by becoming successful entrepreneurs and businessmen.
Yes, it might have been a different sort of business. One that might require a murder from time to time—but only if necessary—and run by an Old World patriarch. This particular one, Vito Corleone, also serving as a protector, a mentor, and most importantly, as a benevolent source of justice for those who had been wronged. And who wouldn't like to have a "godfather" to right all the wrongs in life? You bet. I know I certainly would. I can imagine...
So, how did Puzo know so much? And wasn’t there an implication here, that as for his being of Italian stock, it would follow that he “knew people”? A euphemism that was often unabashedly vocalized by those who didn’t “know people.” (All in fun. Of course.) But in Puzo’s own words, “I never met a real honest-to-god gangster. I knew the gambling world pretty good, but that’s all.”
The correct answer is research. Lots and lots of it. Beginning with pouring over a rambling 1,180 page manuscript of Joe Valachi’s testimony at the McClellan hearings in 1963. In which the workings of the so called five major New York City organized crime families, and Valachi’s own thirty-year criminal career were revealed. Ok, but then how could Puzo know about Clemenza’s little trick of adding a little bit of wine, and a little bit of sugar, to a meatballs and spaghetti dish? A recipe only a mobster could know. And in violation of omerta no less, by spilling the sauce?
Puzo put all that research to work and created, what every critic called “a page turner.” An assessment with which I would concur. No, this was not James Joyce, where each page turned weighs a ton.
Usually, a book is read first before seeing the movie which it spawned. I did the reverse. Somehow, I had never gotten around to reading the book when it was first published. Which in this case worked all to the better. I didn't have to imagine what the characters looked like. They looked like Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan etc. And I could get a peek into the day in the life of Clemenza. Only touched upon briefly in the movie. Who like you and me, has breakfast while running through a mental checklist of what the day holds. Errands, and the like. (Don't forget to pick up a box of cannoli on the way home from work). Like, mulling over the best way to kill Paulie. You think being a hit man is without stress? Without hassle?
The book was, fugetaboutit! It would go on to sell 20-30 million copies with an estimated 10 million coming after the movie release. (So I guess I’m not alone in this regard). For which Puzo had earned $420k for the paperback rights ($3 mil in today's money). A total unheard of at the time. Which even shocked Puzo who at first thought he was being put on. He instantly became a very rich man, and it would turn his life around.
By most yardsticks, it is one of the top-10 bestselling books of American fiction. And it has been translated into 11 languages. Yet, Puzo felt it was by far the worst of the three books he had written up to that time. He has said that if he knew he was writing a masterpiece he would have written it better.
I would agree with the author. Though it is a page-turner, I found it to be overwritten. There are extensive backstories about minor characters who add nothing to the main story line or theme.
The Johnnie Fontaine character, for instance, (undoubtedly based on Sinatra, as is far clearer in the book than in the film), could merit a whole book in itself. Different story of course; different theme. Lucy Mancini (Sonny’s mistress...shown briefly but not even named in the film), is another example. In the department of TMI, we learn about her corrective vaginal surgery. (Really?). And what purpose does a character named Nino Valenti serve? Another singer no less?
Roughly 60-70 pages could have easily been cut (and would be in the film, and more ), reducing it to a tighter 370 page novel. Still, despite not being distilled, it remains a story compellingly told. One that is accessible and relatable to both the high and low brow, which accounts for its huge success and cultural impact. Which is perhaps best been summed up by Tom Sanopietroup in his book The Godfather Effect.
“With its emphasis on proud ethnicity, The Godfather changed not just the way Italian-Americans saw themselves, but how Americans of all backgrounds viewed their individual and national self-identities, their possibilities, and attendant disappointments.”
Which would be further re-enforced by...
Francis Ford Coppola was aware of a new novel entitled The Godfather. But had not read it, until being sent a copy by an old friend now at Paramount, who wanted him to consider directing a movie version of it. He was hardly impressed.
“I only got about fifty pages into it...I thought it was a popular, sensational novel, pretty cheap stuff. I got to that part about the singer supposedly modeled on Frank Sinatra and the girl Sonny Corleone liked so much because her vagina was enormous. I said, ‘My God what is this? The Carpetbaggers? So I stopped reading and said,‘Forget it.’”
But he needed a job; he needed money (ala Puzo, but for different reasons). And when he started to take note on how people were responding to the book, he decided to give it another try. This time he found something in it. Something big. “A classic succession concerning a great king with three sons. Not about organized gangsters but a family chronicle. A metaphor for capitalism in America.”
“A classic succession concerning a great king with three sons. Not about organized gangsters but a family chronicle. A metaphor for capitalism in America.”
Interesting how financial considerations can turn what is first seen as crap, into art. He took the job. But now, how to do it?
I’ve always been intrigued as to how things get made. A tube of toothpaste to me, has always been a wonder. A piece of art, much more so. For to what degree does a vision come to fruition? Especially concerning a full length major motion picture with all those people to rely upon, who scroll across the screen in that endless list of credits at movie's end? Especially with "the suits" in the way.
When I came across this book with its typeface in gold (the traditional 50th anniversary gift), and then turned it over and read this blurb by a guy who is familiar with the underworld from his own writing...
...then opened it to these first four lines, it "Sealed" the deal.
"The early 2010's. A car pulls up to a Manhattan hotel. The door swings open and I'm on my way to a diner in New Jersey for a hush-hush meeting with Anthony Columbo. His father Joseph Columbo Sr, was said to have been the powerful head of one of the organized-crime families in New York during the 1960's and early 1970's."
While a lot of interesting nuggets within were new to me, they had been common knowledge among the many Godfather fans over the years. Interpretations of events leading up to the film being made, have been posted and discussed on line ad infinitum. Maybe even I had heard about some of them before and forgotten? Still they remained curiosities. At times quirky, even fascinating. Here's a few.
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That the studio never wanted to hire Coppola. Other well known directors had turned the job down. Still, he was under threat of being fired almost from the first day he was hired. And it remained that way throughout the entire time.
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Nor heaven forbid, was Marlon Brando. Until his legendary "screen test" in which he tied up his pony tail, put shoe polish in his hair, tissues in his cheeks, and blew everyone away. Puzo and Coppola had wanted him from the very beginning, but Paramount was leery. His recent movies bombed; he was tough to work with.
Brando won a Best Actor Oscar for the role. Of course. You couldn't make this up.
Interesting to note, Brando was only 46 at the time. This is how he looked about that age as he appeared on the Dick Cavett Show.
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Who's Al Pacino? Who was constantly nervous about being fired. The studio didn't want him. Coppola did.
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The "gun/cannoli" line was not in the script. Actor Richard Castellano adlibbed it.
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The real mob bosses and the Italian-American community at large, did not want the film to be made. Only after negotiations between Joe Columbo and Paramount, was the film allowed to go forward. Without the word Mafia in it.
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Then it seemed every mobster wanted to be in it. Some were.
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It also seemed that every famous actor in Hollywood (and England) was either vying for, or being considered for, the role of the Godfather. A list that included Ernest Borgnine (the studio's favorite), Burt Lancaster, Laurence Olivier, Anthony Quinn, Richard Conte, Edward G. Robinson, Paul Scofield, George C. Scott and, no joke, Danny Thomas (“Make Room for Godfather”?).
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Lenny Montana, a former wrestler playing Luca Brasi, was so nervous in his scene with Brando that he was flubbing his lines. Brando never broke character...Coppola left it in. It was right for a lug like Brasi.
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Brando didn't know his lines either. He'd read them off a cue card, or taped somewhere. Which being a method actor, he felt led to a spontaneity and improvisation in a performance.
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That cat in Brando's lap was a stray. It's presence was unplanned and improvised. Contentedly, the cat purred and Brando's lines could not be heard. They were later dubbed in.
I suppose it's always been a great challenge to make a popular book, a best seller, a critical success, come alive on the screen. A few that come to mind as being successful at it, include a diverse mix of To Kill a Mockingbird, Harry Potter, The Wizard of Oz, In Cold Blood, Breakfast at Tiffany's, The Hours. But above all stands the incomparable, The Godfather. Beyond being a blockbuster, it had become a cultural touchstone.
The real revelation from Mark Seal's account, is how far to a next level Coppola took Puzo's book. How he made it come alive despite his initial misgivings.
For starters, all of the extemporaneous chapters in the book, some of which I had noted in my comments previously, were cut. He had gone over each and every page of the novel making notes along the way, and pulled out about 50 key scenes that he would focus on, in bringing the story to the screen. It helped that he and Puzo got along so well, and were literally "on the same page" as they co-wrote the screen play.
Coppola's dogged approach to getting it just right, never let up. Despite all the obstacles. Some of which that have been previously noted (the studio, the mob, the cost). He now saw the story, and the way it was written, as an opera. In that way that opera can be grand, bigger than life, over the top. And through that lens, he envisioned how the movie should look and feel. Which required changing the ending. All choreographed with precision. For me, this was personified in three vivid scenes, each played in a different tempo.
The first comes at the very outset. Coppola eliminated the opening in the book which takes place in court, where Amerigo Bonasera (played by a barber turned actor, Salvatore Corsitto, who had a real Italian accent), was subjected to a grave injustice. But instead of showing that injustice in open court, Coppola opts for the telling of it in close quarters. The purposefully darkened confines of the godfather's office. Which takes us right to the heart of the movie, as Bonasera begins his lament. If this were an opera, it is easy to imagine him singing an aria here. As a matter of fact, I can imagine an actual opera of The Godfather. But that it should ever be attempted, is another question.
In this scene, which runs 6 1/2 minutes, we get the whole lay of the land: the failure of justice system, the futility of assimilation and buying into the American dream, the enormous power that Vito Corleone holds, and the esteem in which he is held. And for three long minutes, as if a teaser, the face of the Don goes unrevealed. Then suddenly, there it is. A stunningly transformed Marlon Brando. I swear I could hear an audience murmur at that moment. There had been much anticipation of how Brando would look in this role.
We are presented with a soft spoken man (at odds with the strong-armed reputation that precedes him), stroking a cat in his lap. A stroke of genius by Coppola, as this touch of humanity adds to the Don's mystique and contradictions. And it instantly makes clear, that this is not going to be a typical mobster movie. And you can't tell me that The Sopranos didn't steal this sort of device, what with Tony Soprano wadding in his pool in his bathrobe in that first episode, and getting all mushy over a family of ducks that have dropped by.
The Don then proceeds to quietly call out this sniveling man before him, on his previous lack of respect. "You never even invited me to your house for a cup of coffee." All the same, he finally offers Bonasera the gift of justice. Which might have to be repaid down the road. We are instantly won over. What Mafia?
Right on the heels of that captivating introduction, comes the wedding scene in stark contrast. Light versus darkness, exuberance versus somberness, an unbridled energy verses a world-weariness. It runs for almost a half an hour in which something interesting is going on every minute.
For Coppola, this wedding had to be bigger than life; make you wish you'd been invited. A scene through which you will learn more about Italian-Americans than any sociological study ever could. More through images and song, than through words. Yes, this is about family. This is about real people. And on a personal note, totally in tune with my experience from back in the day during any celebratory gathering.
While these two scenes set the stage, the pièce de résistance is to come a bit later by way of a gruesome, yet warranted, assassination. That of a corrupt police captain, and a notorious narcotics smuggler and dealer. It is the pivotal point in the story, as Michael transitions from being a "civilian," in this world that lives by a different code ("That's my family Kay. That's not me."), into heir apparent to his father's throne. A Don in waiting.
How riveting and heart-pounding a scene is it? This from Sammy "The Bull" Gravano, former underboss in the Gambino family, who turned on his former boss John Gotti:
”Remember how Michael couldn’t hear anything as he’s walking up on them? Remember how his eyes went glassy, and there was just the noise of the train in the background, and how he couldn’t hear them talk? That’s just like I felt when I killed Joe Colucci (Gravano's first victim). Somebody who wrote that scene had to have a feeling for that. I mean, I felt like I was pulling the trigger myself.”
He knows something about trigger-pulling, having admitted to killing 19 people in his day.
The irony is that the mobsters were so influenced by the film, including Gravano, that they started using lines from it. And some started assuming the persona of some of the characters. It was life imitating art rather than the other way around. Again, this is something The Sopranos would one day pick up on as well.
To my mind, while the book is flawed—for reasons previously stated— the movie is "picture perfect." I don't know of how many movies that could be said. Of course that's a subjective judgment. But when you look at the whole package, the script, the directing, the cast, lighting, score, cinematography, editing, the whole nine yards, The Godfather might be just that. Flawless.
Yet, while it did win three key Oscars, Best Picture, Best Adapted Screen Play and Best Actor, films of such magnitude and "boffo" at the box office, usually win many more. Especially as the Godfather got nine nominations. At least 25 films have won seven Oscars or more . Although for Best Supporting Actor, Pacino (who was miffed he that wasn't in the Best Actor category), Caan and Duvall were all nominated and no doubt cancelled each other out. Ben Johnson was the winner that year in that category, for The Last Picture Show.
As of this writing, I'm unaware of any specials that will air in celebration of this anniversary. Nor any reunions planned. There was one on the 45th anniversary by way of an interview with Matt Lauer (remember him?)
in which five participants discussed their remembrances in making the film. (45th Godfather Reunion Interview 2017). I doubt if such a gathering would take place again. But in reading Mark Seal's book, there are enough backstories to fill such a void. After all, "It could be a movie in itself."
(an adlibbed line in the movie; it does not appear in the book)
The two most iconic ones need no introduction:
1. “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
2. “Leave the gun, take the cannoli.”
The remainder might be less remembered. Yet, for the most part, remain poignant and even applicable. In no particular order...
3. “Friendship is everything. Friendship is more than talent. It is more than the government. It is almost the equal of family.”
4. “Never hate your enemies. It affects your judgment.”
5. “A friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy overestimate your faults.”
6. “The lawyer with the briefcase can steal more money than the man with the gun.”
7. “I don't trust society to protect us, I have no intention of placing my fate in the hands of men whose only qualification is that they managed to con a block of people to vote for them.”
8. “Don't let anybody kid you. It's all personal, every bit of business. Every piece of shit every man has to eat every day of his life is personal. They call it business. OK. But it's personal as hell.”
9. “Accidents don't happen to people who take accidents as a personal insult.”
10. “Behind every successful fortune there is a crime.”
(originally said by Balzac, and used as an epigraph in the novel)
11. “A man who is not a father to his children can never be a man.”
12. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.”
(which Puzo attributes to hearing his mother say it when he was a kid)
13. “There are things that have to be done and you do them and you never talk about them. You don't justify them. They can't be justified. You just do them. Then you forget it.”
14. “We are all honorable men here, we do not have to give each other assurances as if we were lawyers.”
15. “I have learned more in the streets than in any classroom.”
16. “Every man has but one destiny.”
17. “Women and children can be careless, but not men.”
18. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
19. “Bada-bing.”
(a phrase popularized by James Caan's character Sonny Corleone. It was adlibbed)
20. “I refused to be a fool dancing on the strings held by all those big shots. I don’t apologize,
that’s my life.”
Capt. Nemo played by James Mason
in deep-doo doo in the deep blue sea.
Ron Vazzano
Ron Vazzano
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