Megalópolis

The mere mention of Francis Ford Coppola's name brings forth a multitude of breathtaking experiences. Over decades, the filmmaker has created a monumental filmography, one few directors could even dream of matching. He solidified his legacy with *The Godfather*; with *Apocalypse Now*, he became immortal. He is undoubtedly one of the greatest filmmakers of all time. Yet, his latest film, the long-awaited *Megalopolis*, is a bewildering cacophony, oscillating between the sublime and the awkward, between hope and dreams. Though not an outright failure, it falls short of what one would expect from such a celebrated director.

The film's plot revolves around the ideological clash between the prodigious architect Cesar Catalina, a Nobel laureate, and Frank Cicero, the mayor of New Rome-a futuristic New York City. While the politician governs with his eyes set on the past, relying on experience and tradition in his decisions, the architect dreams of radically transforming life through a utopia enabled by "megalon," a miraculous material. Throughout the film, Coppola denounces the rampant hypocrisy and corruption of contemporary Western society. The spectacle of life, the manipulation of information, the commercialization of sex-all these are symptoms of a morally bankrupt empire, led by a decadent elite lost in excess and vanity. The only way out for such a civilization appears to be the reform envisioned by Cesar. He believes he can resolve all social contradictions through his "megalon," raising a new world from the ruins of New Rome. To achieve this, he must overcome skeptics and survive the vicious.

Although *Megalopolis* was originally conceived over twenty years ago, the discussions Coppola raises are strikingly relevant, especially in his critique of mass media and mass politics. The film has a beating heart and can engage the viewer in its most intense moments. What it unfortunately lacks, however, is structure and substance. Coppola paints his film like a Pollock painting, yet without any sense of harmony or flow in his brushstrokes, and the result is a chaotic and disjointed work. *Megalopolis* is laden with intention and argument, but it lacks direction, lacks synthesis, and fails to turn its theme into poetry. The film blends grandiose imagery, bolstered by a thunderous score, with the ridiculous, as crude visual effects bring a cheap surrealism to life. The dialogues are eloquently robotic, and they only function because of the actors who manage (which is a testament to the quality of the cast) to convey some humanity to their characters. Coppola fails to present New Rome as a believable, palpable world, which limits the viewer's ability to become involved. At no point does the city appear as anything more than a metonymy for America, and its inhabitants are not particularly compelling.

The film is also packed with homages to classics that inspired the director, with one scene, for instance, evoking the epic *Ben-Hur*. Amid so many tributes, one stands out, perhaps to the detriment of the film itself. From its very title, *Megalopolis*, comparisons with Fritz Lang's legendary *Metropolis* become inevitable. Coppola's production, in some ways, is almost a modern reinterpretation of the German master's work, with some parallels between the two films. In both, the protagonist is a wealthy young man trying to address the terrible inequalities of a futuristic society. And in both, love is a positive force that drives change-the man who loves yearns to transform society. But while *Metropolis* is flawless in its presentation, *Megalopolis* fails to convince. It does not impress with its visuals, which are largely uninteresting; it does not deliver an engaging plot, nor memorable characters. It has the virtue of saying exactly what the filmmaker wanted to say-it is assertive and confident in its message without being, however, preachy. But a dozen well-thought-out metaphors do not make a good movie.

Coppola may have become a prisoner of his own myth. Many refuse to accept anything less than a masterpiece from him, and *Megalopolis*, unfortunately, is not one of his better moments. It is a film ambitious in concept but weak in execution. It engages with the issues of its time but fails to create pathos. It reaffirms faith in humanity and the transformation of the world, but it lacks a story and characters that could amplify its message. It is certainly not a triumphant return for the director, but it is not a detestable piece of work either. For viewers willing to intellectually engage with the film and forgive its flaws, *Megalopolis* can capture attention and reasonably convey its director's ideas. It can even entertain, as the actors are fully invested in the script's quirks, and there is something charming about Coppola's vision for the future of humanity.

On one hand, this film has some interesting ideas and visuals, but some ideas never evolve, and some visuals don't look good.

It's challenging to understand what Coppola's intention was with this film. It seems like he chose not to focus too much on characters but rather on themes. However, some scenes suggest that the audience should feel empathy for the characters, but one simply can't. One reason for that is the pacing of this film; it somehow manages to be fast, yet feel slow, and that might be because some scenes are dull. If we remove all the misleading character development, we are left with misleading idea development. Megalopolis bombards you with interesting ideas, but because there are quite a few of them, none of them evolves into a solid conclusion. As I already mentioned, it's hard to see where Coppola was going with all of this.

If his intention was to go against the classical narrative structure and challenge viewers with a different type of storytelling, then that didn't work either. Some scenes contain clichés, and the overall structure feels like a mix of 50s to 90s scenery. One interesting thing the movie does frequently is plant a seed that sometimes does not grow-it stays in that scene, and then we move to the next one. This method of storytelling is misleading and confusing for most audiences, and it probably would work better if this technique had a solid foundation throughout the whole film. But it simply does not feel right.

David Lynch once said that you can make any film, any art the way you want, as long as it feels right. His films are stranger and more difficult to understand than Megalopolis, yet when you watch Lynch's work, you don't feel misled-everything feels right, no matter how strange it is. Megalopolis sometimes feels right, sometimes it doesn't.

Megalopolis is a good example of how the director's stylistic touch matters to the look of the movie. The cinematography of this film was done by the same person who shot The Master. Yet this film feels like any expensive commercial shot today-too vivid, too warm, too basic.

I will definitely rewatch this film in the future, all jokes aside. This film has a shtick to it that I didn't quite get the first time watching. Overall, it's a bit sad that this is Coppola's last film, but I'm sure he has no regrets making it. After all, this is the guy who made Apocalypse Now, and I will respect him forever for his contribution to American cinema.

You can see every cent on the screen. That's the good thing about Francis Ford Coppola's latest and quite possibly last movie. Between the cast, the costuming, and the set design, which reimagines New York City as New Rome, you can see it all. The only question this raises is why was 42nd Street from Third Avenue to Times Square left unaffected, and what about the movie theaters from 7th to 8th Avenue?

That said, it is natural to be skeptical of what is essentially an admiring biopic of Robert Moses. Especially when it has apparently been written by Ayn Rand as a reply to METROPOLIS and then handed to Abel Gance after convincing him he's making a movie about Julius Caesar instead of Napoleon. And don't forget the quotations from Marcus Aurelius.

It is, in sum, a very learned movie. To appreciate the details, you need to have read extensively in Roman history, seen a lot of silent films, and be familiar with New York City in the second half of the 20th Century, including the flight of the middle and upper classes from the 1950s through the 1980s. Through the vagaries of my upbringing and a chaotic course of self-education, I can claim those things. So. What do I think?

The performances are fine. However, I am left with the question, as I am about so many movies these days, of who Coppola made this movie for. It is claimed he spent about $140 million of his own money on this feature. The general rule is that a movie has to gross about twice its production cost to break even. I can't see a large enough audience for this to produce $300,000,000 in tickets and secondary rights. It is simply too long, a shaggy dog story about love and artistic vision being more important than anything else.

This would not, of course, be the first time that Coppola has let his artistic ambitions explode on him; even though it is claimed APOCALYPSE NOW eventually made its money back, I have my doubts about that if you add in interest costs. Certainly ONE FROM THE HEART was a disaster, and he spent a couple of decades making nicely commercial movies from other sources to dig his way out, and let the wineries and restaurants make him money. Neither do I believe this movie will ruin him. There are certainly enough movies buffs around to make the net loss from this bearable.

All of which goes a long way to answering my question of who Coppola's intended audience was. It was Coppola himself, an attempt to prove himself the complete film maker, instead of the fine translator of others' well told tales. I hope he likes what he has wrought.

It's the huge go for broke swing everyone said it was, and an immensely interesting mess. For everything that works in Megalopolis, there's something that doesn't. Parts are very creative and unlike anything else, and then long stretches pass that are utterly boring. It's 138 minutes long but feels like it exceeds the three-hour mark. Whether that makes it feel appropriately epic or too often dull will probably depend on the viewer.

It's also the kind of movie where I'm not sure overanalysing will help. Coppola is trying to say so much in one film, and a good part of it comes out nonsensical as a result. There were a few points during the film where I wondered if it was all some practical joke. It might mean a lot to him, or maybe only parts do and the rest of the time, he's laughing at us.

Somehow, all at once, I'm disappointed, exhausted, confused, and impressed. There's a certain balance here with the entertaining and boring. Visuals that look striking alongside parts that are visually garish. It's a movie that film buffs will argue about and remember while 99% of the population will continue to live their lives in blissful ignorance of its existence.

I can't quite decide whether it would be better to have be among the blissful many or the baffled 1%. I can offer no advice to anyone else who's considering giving it 138 minutes of their finite time. I'm glad I saw it and I also feel it was a bit of a waste of time.

Full disclosure: This film is a disaster of epic proportions-an absolute train wreck that careens off the tracks, crashes, and then somehow sets itself on fire. It's so bad, it's almost brilliant, the kind of so-awful-it's-genius nightmare that future cult fans will rave about. And you know what? I respect the hell out of Coppola for it. The guy is a cinematic legend who just decided to throw all caution (and coherence) to the wind and go full mad scientist on this. It's a glorious, unfiltered mess from the mind of a genius who clearly stopped caring about what anyone thinks. Bravo, you magnificent lunatic! 👏🏻