“THE GODFATHER PART III REDUX”

By Raymond Benson

As he has done with Apocalypse Now and The Cotton Club, as well as early tinkering with the original Godfather movies for television, Francis Ford Coppola has now unleashed a new edit of his 1990 picture, The Godfather Part III.

Full disclaimer: The Godfather Part III is not a bad movie. While it is nowhere near approaching the masterpieces that are The Godfather (1972) and The Godfather Part II (1974), the third film in the trilogy was still honored with Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor (Andy Garcia), and some technical categories. This reviewer feels that The Godfather Part III is a good movie, but perhaps not a great one like the first two. Still, many critics and audience members complained that it was a “failure” and threw a lot of criticism at poor Sofia Coppola. She had stepped into a major supporting role at the last minute just as cameras were rolling, replacing Winona Ryder, who had abruptly dropped out for health reasons. Sofia went on to become an extremely talented director and writer; as an actress she may have lacked that “light up the screen” charisma, but she displayed an honesty and realism that was entirely believable. In short, she was unfairly maligned.

Papa Coppola has retitled the movie Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone, which apparently was the original title he and Puzo wanted back in 1990, but Paramount balked and wanted them to go with “Part III” for the sake of the box office. The filmmaker has also made subtle edits, mostly in the first third of the movie, that affect the thrust of the picture. The new version opened in some theaters on December 4, 2020, and it was released on Blu-ray (with digital download code) on December 8.

The opening is different. The original picture displayed hauntingly empty zoom-throughs of early Corleone residences, mainly the Nevada one, with flashbacks to Fredo’s murder. Now, a scene that appeared at approximately 39 minutes into the original Part III is the first thing we see—Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) in a meeting with Archbishop Gilday (Donal Donnelly), the head of the Vatican bank. Michael offers to bail out Gilday, who has blundered management of funds and needs to cover a deficit. In return, Michael hopes to go “legit” and own the majority holding of an international real estate corporation the Vatican controls. The new cut completely deletes Michael being honored with a papal order in St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York and instead goes right to the party celebration, mimicking the openings of Godfather I and II. Some scenes in the first half hour are shuffled so that this all makes sense—and it’s for the better. The financial intrigue plot is less confusing than it was in the original.

Not much else is changed, save for the deletion of a later brief scene between Michael and Don Altobello (Eli Wallach) that is inconsequential, and some extremely subtle trimming of a few sequences. The ending is also slightly altered; it wouldn’t be much of a spoiler to reveal it, but that won’t happen here. As it turns out, Coda is roughly four minutes shorter than Part III.

It can be fascinating what a little editing can do to a movie. Coppola has managed to “trim the fat” without trimming much at all. By rearranging some scenes, the story is clearer. Most importantly, the focus on Michael and his attempt at retribution—and failure at it—is emphasized. And that’s what this final chapter in the Godfather saga is all about.

Al Pacino delivers another fine performance in the picture; considering the slate of Best Actor nominations for 1990, it’s a bit of a mystery why he wasn’t included in the short list. Diane Keaton as Kay, Michael’s ex-wife, still doesn’t have much to do in the movie, but she’s fine. Andy Garcia steals the film as Vincent Mancini, the illegitimate son of the late Sonny Corleone (James Caan in the first movie). The picture sorely misses the presence of Robert Duvall, who declined to be in it. He is replaced by forgettable George Hamilton as Michael’s attorney. Joe Mantegna provides the buzz in the first half of the movie as adversary Joey Zasa until his spectacular demise in Little Italy. Talia Shire reprises her role as Michael’s sister Connie, and, like Keaton’s character, doesn’t have a lot to do except be a striking presence at Michael’s side. Oh, and keep an eye out for a cameo by Martin’s mom, Catherine Scorsese, in a street scene.

The technical aspects are marvelous. The design and look of the film complement the first two (Gordon Willis was DP on all three), the music by Carmine Coppola and Nino Rota bring back the familiar mood, and the locations in Sicily are gorgeous. All good stuff.

The Paramount Blu-ray edition looks great, but it comes with no supplements except a brief video introduction by Coppola, who explains his reasoning for recutting the movie.

Despite the revised title, the picture will probably always be known as The Godfather Part III. Fans of the original cut will likely prefer Coda; detractors may like the movie more than they did, but that’s not a guarantee. When all is said and done, The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is still pretty much the same movie as Part III. Good, but not great.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

Sandra de Bruin is an established actress who has appeared in more than 100 television series (ER, Barnaby Jones, The Rockford Files, Three’s Company, The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, to name but a few), TV films (Law and Order, Return to Earth) and feature films (The Andromeda Strain, Gray Lady Down). She has done numerous commercials, worked in voice-over and looping, danced at the Los Angeles Music Center and is the creator of the bestselling Actor's Audition Log. Sandra will periodically be sharing her stories of working with Hollywood legends, which will appear in a forthcoming memoir about her on-and off-screen adventures.

BY SANDRA DE BRUIN WITH DEAN BRIERLY

How does one describe a bright, charming, handsome, witty con-man? (The onscreen variety, of course.) Well, if he’s all of that and more—then he’s James Garner.

Every Sunday night I would call my father in New York. This ritual began in the 1970s and continued until he passed away in the late 1980s. I would regale him with the follies and foibles of my week in Tinseltown, and he would patiently listen, occasionally interjecting an upbeat comment. At the end of our conversations he would invariably say something like, “Sweetheart, think about being a stage actress. Come back to New York.”

I would answer, “I’ll think about it, Dad, but not until I’ve worked just once with James Garner. Remember when we used to watch Maverick together? You’d say, ‘Now, there’s a man I’d like to meet.’ Well, I’m gonna meet him for you.”

In 1974 it happened. I auditioned for and landed a nice role on the very first episode of The Rockford Files. I played a prim hostess at an upscale country club who succumbs to Jim’s charm as he tries to gain entrance to a private outdoor patio. It was a fun scene in which Jim works his charismatic magic to con me into showing him to a table. I was to become increasingly enamored as he charms me, casually removing my sweater to a reveal a tight red dress, then slipping off my glasses, and then letting my hair come tumbling down. Finally, I would seductively say, “Come this way, Mr. Rockford. There’s one empty table available.”

Come the day of the shoot at the Bel-Air Country Club I was anxiously pacing outside going over my lines, trying to tie them together with the physical actions required, when a familiar voice behind me said, “Would you like to run lines with me?” Yeah, you got it. It was James Garner himself.

“Oh, I’d love that. Thank you!” I replied. “I’m a little nervous and trying to get the timing with the business right. Oh, I’m Sandy de Bruin, and I’m playing the hostess.”

“Okay, then, Sandy de Bruin, let’s go to work.”

Which we proceeded to do for the next few minutes, until the makeup man called me over to get freshened up prior to shooting the scene. Occupying the makeup chair was an attractive blonde woman underneath a big straw hat. She was obviously one of the extras who would be seated on the patio. But she didn’t move when the makeup man politely asked her to please get out of his chair so he could touch me up. “Why? Who’s she?” she asked, still seated. I glanced up and saw that Jim was taking in her high and mighty attitude.

“She’s the actress in the next scene with Mr. Garner, that’s who she is,” the makeup man responded with an edge in his voice. At that, she arrogantly stood up, slinked over to where Jim was standing and tried to flirt with him. He gave her a blank look, muttered something or other, then turned and walked away.

Moments later the scene was set—Jim and I were on our markers and the extras were all seated on the patio. Just as were about to rehearse, Jim motioned the director over. In a quiet but firm voice he said, “See that blonde extra seated on the patio with the big straw hat? Lose her!”

The director called to the Assistant Director in charge of extras, and moments later the blonde was gone, but not before exchanging a few angry words with the AD. All I remember hearing was “Just sign out. You’ll be paid for the day.”

I had never witnessed this kind of power, and was quite taken back. But Jim, the total professional, just calmly turned to me and said, “Let’s do it.” We did, and the take came off without a hitch. Unfortunately, when the episode aired the hair-tumbling-down part was cut. But the scene was impressive enough to be used in previews and PR blurbs for The Rockford Files.

When filming was over I said my adios and thanks to everyone on the set, drove home and immediately called my father. This time he didn’t end our talk with the usual, “Come home, sweetheart.” He knew I was hooked—and thriving—in Hollywood.

After a year or so I was again cast in The Rockford Files, this time playing a nurse at the Malibu hospital where Rockford was taken whenever he needed medical help. My first scene was simply assisting the doctor in removing buckshot from Rockford’s butt. Jim hated the scene and was in no mood for any mishaps, so the set was tense from the start. It definitely wasn’t timely for me to reintroduce myself. However, we got through it okay.

The next scene had me running through the hospital entrance, then skidding to a halt and screaming, “It’s Rockford, and he’s been shot!” (Films and television shows are rarely shot in sequence, so while this scene took place prior to the buckshot scene, it was actually shot afterward.)

There was no rehearsal, as it was a fairly simple shot. I ran through the entrance and yelled my line in my inimitable fashion. Then I heard the dreaded words: “Cut! You missed the marker, Sandy. Let’s do it again.” Jim, seated in his chair watching the action, loudly muttered, “Jesus Christ, she can’t even hit the marker.”

Looking down in vain for a marker, I instantly responded, “Sorry, I’ll get it right next time.”

Suddenly, an angry voice rang down from the rafters: “There is no marker!”

Dead silence.

Apparently, this crew member had had enough of Jim’s attitude for the day. Within minutes a marker was set down on the floor, and I nailed the scene in one take. When lunch was called I retreated to my trailer, hoping to avoid further encounter. A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. I hesitantly opened it. Standing below me was Jim. He studied me for a moment before asking, “Why didn’t you say there was no marker?”

I paused, then hesitantly replied, “They’re your crew. I’m only here for the day.”

He knew what I meant, but didn’t respond directly. He just said, “Get some lunch. We’ve got good caterers,” and walked away.

“WAR GAMES”

By Raymond Benson

Frank Perry was a notable director and screenwriter who in the early part of his career made some acclaimed motion pictures—David and Lisa (1962), The Swimmer (1968), Last Summer (1969), and Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970). Unfortunately, his later career was marked by problems (he directed the much-maligned Mommie Dearest in 1981, for example). The earlier films were written by or co-written with his then-wife and talented scribe, Eleanor Perry.

Ladybug Ladybug (1963) was the follow-up to his beloved David and Lisa, for which Perry was nominated for the Oscar Best Director. It is a treatise on the prospect of nuclear war, made at a time when such a thing was on everyone’s mind. Released just a year after the Cuban Missile Crisis, and a year prior to Stanely Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove and Sidney Lumet’s Fail Safe, Ladybug examines the confusion and miscommunication that could occur in a small American town if, by chance, the early warning system either fails or misfunctions. Eleanor Perry wrote the script, based on a short story by Lois Dickert (which allegedly is based on true events).

The film is notable mostly by the appearance of actors who would go on to bigger and better things—Nancy Marchand, William Daniels, Estelle Parsons, and others you might recognize as reliable supporting players. It’s a low-budget, black and white affair that immediately recalls the style and sensibility of Perry’s previous David and Lisa.

One morning at the local school (is it a middle-school?—the kids all seem to be in grades ranging from, say, third to eighth), the early warning system beeps Yellow and won’t stop. This indicates that a nuclear strike is imminently within an hour. The principal, Mr. Calkins (Daniels), isn’t sure what to do. He can’t reach anyone to confirm whether the alarm is a mistake, a drill, or what… Finally, he makes the decision to send all the students’ home, accompanied by the teachers, who each walk an assigned group of kids to their nearby rural dwellings. The story focuses on Mrs. Andrews (Marchand) and her charges. As the children break off at their various domiciles along the way, one final group of kids go to the home of Harriet (Alice Playten). Harriet’s parents aren’t there, so the girl leads her classmates into a bomb shelter, where she takes charge, evokes “rules,” and refuses to let anyone in or out of the shelter. The situation is left ambiguous—is there an imminent strike or not?

What we are left with is a sober meditation on the absurdity of how we all planned—or not—for these events back in those “duck and cover” days of the early 1960s. The message is clearly anti-nuke, and the drama comes from the Lord of the Flies ambiance that swells among the kids in the shelter. I’m sure that in 1963, this was potent stuff. Today, it’s a relic of a time and place that resides in Baby Boomers’ collective memories.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray release looks sharp and crisp in its glorious black and white. There is an audio commentary by film historian Richard Harland Smith, as well as subtitles for the hearing impaired. The theatrical teaser for this and other Kino Lorber releases are also included.

For fans of Hollywood “message” pictures of the 1960s, Ladybug Ladybug showcases a young director at the beginning of a checkered career and an ensemble of talented actors.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

“NO, SHE’S THE SANE ONE”

By Raymond Benson

Frank Perry was a notable director and screenwriter who in the early part of his career made some acclaimed motion pictures—David and Lisa (1962), The Swimmer (1968), Last Summer (1969), and this one, Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970). Unfortunately, his later career was marked by problems (he directed the much-maligned Mommie Dearest in 1981, for example). The earlier films were written by or co-written with his then-wife and talented scribe, Eleanor Perry.

Diary is a picture of its time and yet it can still resonate today with regards to the #MeToo movement. The 1970 vibe is overpowering, for this was when Women’s Liberation was on the rise and very much in the public consciousness. In this case, Eleanor Perry is the sole writer, adapting the script from a 1967 novel by Sue Kaufman. Starring newcomer Carrie Snodgress, who received an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress and won a Golden Globe in the Best Actress—Comedy or Musical category, the movie is decidedly a comment on New York City upper class society at the time, as well as an acerbic meditation on male toxicity.

Tina Balser (Snodgress) has everything going for her—a wealthy attorney husband, Jonathan (Richard Benjamin), two young daughters, and a fabulous apartment in Manhattan. She’s also smart, and she can be attractive when she’s not depressed about what’s really going on in her life, namely that Jonathan is an A-1 Asshole. He is psychologically abusive, is a cad, he constantly belittles his wife, he’s overly demanding, he expects sex because he’s “entitled” to it, and he is ingratiatingly insufferable. Tina finally has enough and seeks out fulfillment elsewhere. She meets a “famous novelist,” George (Frank Langella), and begins an affair. Unfortunately, George is also an A-1 Asshole, is psychologically abusive, is a cad, he constantly belittles Tina, and he’s ingratiatingly insufferable. Through all this, the world and people around Tina think she’s mad… but in reality, she’s the sane one in this story. Her only fault is that she doesn’t get the hell out of Dodge, leave these chauvinist, misogynist men behind, and start a new life somewhere.

All three leads are excellent, although you’ll want to punch Richard Benjamin in the face within two minutes of the movie’s beginning, and then keep punching him every time he’s on screen. The same is true with overtly handsome, young Frank Langella—I’m sure every heterosexual woman in the audience would sigh over his presence but would soon also want to punch him every time he’s on screen. Perhaps that’s why Tina goes for him (at first)—she needs some danger and excitement in her otherwise mundane, submissive, and humiliating life with her husband. Snodgress displays an elusive warmth in the picture that is vitally important to its success. As a newbie, she received third billing after Benjamin and Langella, but she carries the movie with courage, confidence, and skill, and she appears in every scene.

Look for Alice Cooper and his band performing in a party sequence, and you’ll also spot Peter Boyle in an uncredited cameo at a therapy group session.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray showcases that easily recognizable 1970s film stock, and it looks great. There are English subtitles for the hearing impaired, and the movie comes with an audio commentary by screenwriter Larry Karaszewski, with film historians Howard S. Berger and Steve Mitchell. Why Kino Lorber didn’t hire a more appropriate female audio commentator is a mystery, but these guys do a fine job anyway. The theatrical trailer for this and other Kino Lorber titles are also included.

Diary of a Mad Housewife is certainly a relic of 1970, and yet it manages to still have something to say fifty years later. In too many instances in the relationships between women and men, very little has changed.

“THE BEAUTY OF DECADENCE”

By Raymond Benson

The year 2020 is the 100th anniversary of Federico Fellini’s birth, and the home video world is seeing many restored and re-released titles from the maestro’s catalog. The Criterion Collection has just released a 14-movie box set, for example, but that exquisite package does not contain many of Fellini’s post-1973 titles because of rights issues.

Enter Kino Lorber. Their Kino Classics imprint has released on Blu-ray a gorgeously restored edition of Fellini’s Casanova (1976; released in the U.S. in early 1977). It was a big budget extravaganza capitalizing on the success of Fellini’s masterpiece, Amarcord (1973; released in the U.S. in 1974), which won the Oscar for Foreign Film of 1974 and was nominated for Best Director for ’75—yes, those eligibility rules are complicated.

Casanova was immediately a curiosity because Fellini cast none other than Donald Sutherland in the role of the notorious womanizer, artist, and writer. The film is loosely based on Giacomo Casanova’s Story of My Life, his autobiography published posthumously in, it is believed, 1822 in a censored version. Between then and today, the book has been published numerous times with additions and deletions.

Casanova lived between 1725 and 1798 and was well known in Italian society as a libertine and adventurer, but he was more infamous as a lothario. The film is an episodic journey through some of the more interesting escapades that we know about, although these are, of course, filtered through the visionary lens of Fellini. In many ways, Casanova is a film that resembles Fellini Satyricon (1969), a picture that could be called “Ancient Rome on Acid.” It’s rather obvious that Fellini was attempting to duplicate that picture’s success with the same kind of surreal, grotesque, and decadent—but beautiful—imagery. Once we get to the point when Casanova is bedding a female automaton who becomes the one “woman” who satisfies him more than living ones, we know we’re deep within Fellini’s universe.

Suffice it to say that the movie is breathtaking to look at. The sets and costumes (the latter won an Oscar) are marvels. The whole thing feels like a dream-story, and Sutherland, as the protagonist, floats through the picture with an uncomfortable presence. Fellini probably cast the actor because he does resemble the real man (from paintings). Sutherland is good enough, although he might be the first among many to wonder why he was cast.

That said, Casanova is a mixed bag. It’s at least a half-hour too long (it clocks in at two hours and thirty-five minutes), and it depends entirely too much on the visuals to keep an audience in seats. The story, as it is, is nothing too compelling. Nevertheless, Nino Rota’s musical score is lovely, as always, and other technical aspects are top-notch. Is it sexy? Yes, in a weird Cirque du Soleil kind of way. The depiction of Casanova “doing it” is more like an acrobatic circus-act than any resemblance to actual lovemaking.

Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray looks darned good. You have a choice whether to view the film in English with no subtitles (as it was released in the West), or in the original Italian with subtitles. It was filmed with Sutherland and certain other English-speaking actors reciting dialogue in their native language. If you go with the English version, you’ll hear Sutherland’s real voice, and the Italian actors are dubbed. In the Italian version, Sutherland’s voice is dubbed by an Italian actor. While normally this reviewer would champion viewing a film in its original language, for Casanova I recommend the English version. It’s like the Sergio Leone westerns with Clint Eastwood—we’d all rather view the dubbed versions so we can hear Eastwood’s voice (or Van Cleef’s or Wallach’s). The same is true for Casanova.

There are no supplements save for an audio commentary by film critic Nick Pinkerton and the theatrical trailer. The accompanying booklet contains an essay by film scholar Alberto Zambenedetti, PhD.

Fellini’s Casanova is for the Fellini completists and enthusiasts who want to celebrate the filmmaker’s centenary and for anyone looking for a surreal trip into an 18th Century European never-never land.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON

“AN AMERICAN ‘BLOW-UP’?”

By Raymond Benson

Jerry Schatzberg made a few interesting and notable pictures, some of which you may know—The Panic in Needle Park (1971), Scarecrow (1973), The Seduction of Joe Tynan (1979), Honeysuckle Rose (1980)—but his debut feature slipped under the radar in 1970 when it was released, despite starring the charismatic and beautiful Faye Dunaway when she was Hollywood Hot.

Schatzberg began his career as a fashion photographer, and he’d made some commercials. The story goes that he wanted to make a film about a fashion model he had known. Puzzle of a Downfall Child was the result. The screenplay was written by Schatzberg and Adrian Joyce (the pen name of Carole Eastman), whose best-known work is Five Easy Pieces (also 1970).

The semi-autobiographical tale focuses on the enigmatic Lou Andreas Sand (Dunaway), a model with, well, problems. From the get-go we can see that she’s not a stable person. She’s insecure and, as it turns out, what they used to call in those days “neurotic.” She befriends Aaron, a photographer with whom she works (Barry Primus, in his debut role). Aaron is the stand-in fictional character for Schatzberg. He falls in love with Lou, and she keeps him at arm’s length. At the same time, she has no problem bedding other men, including businessman Mark (Roy Scheider in an early role). The men all treat Lou badly, and Lou treats the men the same way. Eventually, Lou has a breakdown and must reach out to Aaron once again for comfort.

That’s the movie in a nutshell, but of course, there’s more, but mostly it’s all a bunch of angst and sex and drugs and alcohol and anger. When released in the U.S., the studio forced an opening over the credits with narration by Aaron “explaining” what the movie was going to be about. Schatzberg was against the idea, but he had no choice but to comply. Fortunately for him, when the picture was released in Europe, his original opening was restored (and that’s what is on this Blu-ray disk).

Adam Holender’s cinematographer is gorgeous, but the direction takes on the style of the French New Wave in spades, which was rather common in Hollywood in the late 60s and early 70s—erratic editing, non-linear narrative, “arty” shots, and pseudo-existential themes. While there is much to admire in Dunaway’s performance, the movie comes off as an eccentric American pastiche of Antonioni’s Blow-up (1966), which also focused on the world of fashion photography (albeit in London). Puzzle may have attempted to be edgy in 1970, but there is an unfortunate pretentious amateurishness to the proceedings. Luckily, Schatzberg would improve and deliver much more accomplished pictures in his future career.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray looks marvelous and comes with English subtitles for the hearing-impaired. An audio commentary by film historian/filmmaker Daniel Kremer and film historian/podcaster Bill Ackerman accompanies the feature. Supplements include a recent interview with Schatzberg (now 93) on a Zoom call (it was shot post-Covid); the alternate studio-cut opening (not in high definition); and a “Trailers from Hell” episode on the film featuring Larry Karaszewski. Trailers for this and other Kino Lorber titles round out the package.

Puzzle of a Downfall Child will be of interest to fans of Faye Dunaway and experimental art films of the period.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER FROM AMAZON