The sequel to "The Godfather," at times, was just as impressive, and sometimes even more impressive than the original. Overall, though the film struggles with it's flashbacks to an early New York as we watch a young Vito Corleone (Robert De Niro), rise to power. "The Godfather II," wants to be both a prequel and sequel at the same time. When we're in the present time watching Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) fight off Senators that are trying to squeeze him, or when we're watching his house get shot up on an assassination attempt that involved someone very close to the family we always find our self in amazement. When we jump back in time, you get a feeling of intrusion. The script is to blame because its too bloated, and wants to accomplish so much in it's near three hour run time. When we're in the early 1920s we see things that are entertaining and gratifying, but ultimately not even close to being on par with the present day status of the Corleone family. Its good to know and see how the godfather started out, but there's too much to say and not enough time to say it. The bloated section of the film becomes underwritten. We don't really learn anything about Vito Corleone that we didn't already know. We don't really see how he gains his power. He kills "The Black Hand," and one day, through rumors, he becomes the Don of the city. Just like that. Just like that? Really? Then we come back and he's all of a sudden in the Olive Oil business. We don't know how he got there or anything, he's just there. De Niro gives it his best, but he's just not working with anything to give any kind of performance that's remotely on the same level as Brando did in the previous film. I found it painful to watch De Niro try to imitate Brando.
When we see the city, it does have a good look to it, and its convincing as the set and costumes designs, along with the art direction, are very good. We never see big wide shots of the city block. We see a lot of people and grocery stores go by the quickly moving camera. Coppola does an excellent job of not pulling back too far (Probably didn't have the budget to make a huge set of the city), but we get a claustrophobic sensation. The kind of claustrophobic sensation where a guy right next door, in the next building, is close enough to stick his head out the window, call for you, and hand you a sack full of guns. Coppola encapsulates the city, and the time very well. There are some great moments in the flashbacks, but I could have lived without it entirely, and probably would have watched a much better film (Possibly better than the original).
When Michael finds that his own brother, Fredo (John Cazel), knew about the assassination attempt on his life, and that he was involved and that he never told Michael about his connection with Hymen Roth and Johnny Ola, it infuriates Michael to the point of no return. He feels as though he loses his family. When he confronts Fredo, he doesn't say much; he's sick of him; Fredo's too stupid to have around, and he can't even look at him. Coppola' direction here is magnificent. Even though its dark and you can't see the reactions of both of the men, they're both in the picture with the light shinning through the windows creating silhouettes of the men that were, and we see their body language, and the body language tells us everything we need to know.
Cazel gives a great performance throughout the entire film, and we wish we got to see more from his character. He's so good in this one scene that it stands as one of the best scenes in film history, and a huge part of that is due to him. The words that come out of his mouth are on par with Marlon Brando' speech in, "On the Waterfront." All this frustration, years of it, just boil over to point of pity. He's pleading with his brother. We watch him spill his guts on the table, and admit that he's well aware of being stupid and feeding into that stereotype as he watches his younger brother give him orders we feel his pain and frustration for not living up to the coldness and callousness of his family. He feels like an outsider, a coward, and a loser. All the while, Michael sits in front of the window looking at the boathouse. He doesn't care what Fredo has to say, which makes it all that more painful to watch for the both of them. Michael wants information from him, and that's it. One feels like an outsider, and one is an outsider. Neither of them fit in this lifestyle, but it ruins both of their lives. Fredo wants respect and power. Michael has the power, but no respect, and finds out that he loses everything that he ever cared about: his family. Its one of the most powerful scenes in cinematic history.
When we see the city, it does have a good look to it, and its convincing as the set and costumes designs, along with the art direction, are very good. We never see big wide shots of the city block. We see a lot of people and grocery stores go by the quickly moving camera. Coppola does an excellent job of not pulling back too far (Probably didn't have the budget to make a huge set of the city), but we get a claustrophobic sensation. The kind of claustrophobic sensation where a guy right next door, in the next building, is close enough to stick his head out the window, call for you, and hand you a sack full of guns. Coppola encapsulates the city, and the time very well. There are some great moments in the flashbacks, but I could have lived without it entirely, and probably would have watched a much better film (Possibly better than the original).
When Michael finds that his own brother, Fredo (John Cazel), knew about the assassination attempt on his life, and that he was involved and that he never told Michael about his connection with Hymen Roth and Johnny Ola, it infuriates Michael to the point of no return. He feels as though he loses his family. When he confronts Fredo, he doesn't say much; he's sick of him; Fredo's too stupid to have around, and he can't even look at him. Coppola' direction here is magnificent. Even though its dark and you can't see the reactions of both of the men, they're both in the picture with the light shinning through the windows creating silhouettes of the men that were, and we see their body language, and the body language tells us everything we need to know.
Cazel gives a great performance throughout the entire film, and we wish we got to see more from his character. He's so good in this one scene that it stands as one of the best scenes in film history, and a huge part of that is due to him. The words that come out of his mouth are on par with Marlon Brando' speech in, "On the Waterfront." All this frustration, years of it, just boil over to point of pity. He's pleading with his brother. We watch him spill his guts on the table, and admit that he's well aware of being stupid and feeding into that stereotype as he watches his younger brother give him orders we feel his pain and frustration for not living up to the coldness and callousness of his family. He feels like an outsider, a coward, and a loser. All the while, Michael sits in front of the window looking at the boathouse. He doesn't care what Fredo has to say, which makes it all that more painful to watch for the both of them. Michael wants information from him, and that's it. One feels like an outsider, and one is an outsider. Neither of them fit in this lifestyle, but it ruins both of their lives. Fredo wants respect and power. Michael has the power, but no respect, and finds out that he loses everything that he ever cared about: his family. Its one of the most powerful scenes in cinematic history.