I wish I could die and be born again as a bird. 1960s. Following reconstructive surgery on his face when he’s home from Vietnam Al Columbato (Nicolas Cage) is visiting his eccentric bird-loving friend Birdy (Matthew Modine), incarcerated in a mental ward after going missing in action for a month during the conflict. He thinks he’s a bird. Al recalls their friendship back in Philadelphia, restoring a car, going to prom, dog catching, and tries to persuade his friend to communicate, while engaging in his own war of wills with the medical authorities …You ever wondered what our lives down here must look like to a bird? Sandy Kroopf & Jack Behr adapted William Wharton’s 1978 novel, a very significant read when you’re a young person, almost like when you discover Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise and Amory Blaine. It’s updated from WW2 to Vietnam so the cultural touchstones and speech patterns land closer to home. Alan Parker brings his customary tendresse to this depiction of youth with some exhilarating passages to contrast with the melancholy affect of Modine’s birdlike crouch in the psych ward. A different kind of buddy movie, with social awkwardness, difference and male friendship framed by the devastating experience of war. The performances by Modine and Cage reach places you thought could never be touched. So emotional you’ll believe you can fly. There’s a notable score composed by Peter Gabriel. Flying is much more than flapping wings
Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in. As Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) ages and has a place of respect in society having divested himself of his casinos, he finds that being the head of the Corleone crime family isn’t getting any easier. He wants out of the Mafia and buys his way into the Vatican Bank but NYC mob kingpin Altobello (Eli Wallach) isn’t eager to let one of the most powerful and wealthy families go legit. Making matters even worse is Michael’s nephew, Vincent (Andy Garcia) the illegitimate son of Sonny. Not only does Vincent want out from under smalltime mobster Joey Zasa (Joe Mantegna) who’s now got the Corleones’ New York business, he wants a piece of the Corleone family’s criminal empire, as well as Michael’s teenage daughter, Mary (Sofia Coppola) who’s crushing on him. Ex-wife Kay (Diane Keaton) appeals to Michael to allow their son Anthony (Franc D’Ambrosio) quit law school to pursue a career as an opera singer. A trip to Sicily looms as all the threads of the Corleone family start to be pieced together after a massacre in Atlantic City and scores need to be settled … Why did they fear me so much and love you so much? Francis Ford Coppola revisits the scene of arguably his greatest triumph, The Godfather Saga, with writer Mario Puzo and yet he viewed it as a separate entity to that two-headed masterpiece. Perhaps it’s a riff on the material or a tribute act. The transition is tricky with a brusque crewcut Pacino boasting a different boo-ya voice at the beginning when the Catholic Church honours him following a $100 million donation; and the symbolism writ large in the concluding sequence, a performance of Cavalleria Rusticana in which the weakness of our own central Christ figure is punished with the greatest violence – the death of close family. This story then mutates from a pastiche of its previous triumphs to a a pastiche of an opera. Michael is doing penance for the death of Fredo, his dumb older brother who betrayed the family. He is physically weak from diabetes and the accompanying stroke; his efforts to go totally legitimate have angered his Mafia rivals from whose ties he cannot fully break and they want in on the deal with the Vatican; his brother Sonny’s bastard son Vincent is nipping at his heels while sleeping with his own daughter; he is still in love with a remarried Kay, whom he finally introduces to Sicily; he is in bed with God’s own gangsters. It’s a sweeping canvas which gradually reveals itself even if the setup is awkward: we open on the windows at the Lake Tahoe house and see they are decorated with inlaid spider webs: we soon see that sister Connie (Talia Shire) is the wicked crone behind the throne in her widow’s weeds, her flightiness long behind her. Like Wallach, her performance is cut from the finest prosciutto as she encourages Vincent in his ruthless ride to the top of the crime world. Mantegna isn’t a lot better as Joey Zasa. Wrapped into real life events at the Vatican in the late 70s/early 80s which gives Donal Donnelly, Raf Vallone and Helmut Berger some fine supporting roles, with an almost wordless John Savage as Tom Hagen’s priest son, this has the ring of truth but not the class of classicism even with that marvellous cast reunited, something of a miracle in itself: it feels like the gang’s almost all here. I cheered when I saw Richard Bright back as Al Neri! So sue me! And good grief Enzo the Baker is back too! Duvall is replaced by George Hamilton as consigliere, not Coppola’s doing, but because he wasn’t going to be paid a decent salary. What were they thinking?! Even Martin Scorsese’s mother shows up! That’s Little Italy for ya! There are some witty exchanges amid the setpieces when everything beds in and the tragedy is set to violently unwind. The death of Sofia Coppola was the price she had to pay for being her father’s daughter, non e vero? Finance is the gun, politics is the trigger.