Tabbycat's Replies


I completely agree and always did. There’s plenty to criticize (even the ridiculous over-emphasized flag-flapping sound), but the actor playing the terrorist and his dialogue are pure straight-to-video Grade Z dreck. Frankly, I thought this movie was going to be a piece of sh!t from the opening. The only high point was Petersen’s line, “I got a shake!” — the kind of real-world detail Friedkin, former documentary filmmaker, excelled at. “You’re working for me now.” One of the greatest endings in film history. [Did anyone get the feeling that Pacino had trouble capturing the essence of his performance from the first two films?] Yes. Somewhere in those 16 years between 1974 and 1990, he became Old Al. It’s like there are two Pacinos: the young, mesmerizing handsome one, and ... the other. Watching all three movies in succession, as I just did, made for a contrast so stark it gave me whiplash. I would have given him lead actor statues for the first two, but I don’t care for his work in this where he just plays some tired caricature of Michael. Andy Garcia saved this movie. He’s fantastic playing a sensitive, furious little late-70’s Sonny. I agree that his is a much more interesting character than the fading Michael. A well-earned nomination. Not nearly as well. Like he said at the airport, “I’m a retired investor living on a pension.” Twice. All three films — restored — are now on Netflix. [We would get to see why Luca respects and fears Vito as much as Vito feared and respected Luca.] Disagree. Coppola had a lot of ground to cover in both I and II. One of the script’s greatest achievements is in doing just that very efficiently. It’s said that movie scenes should always “enter late and leave early.” Between Luca’s few scenes in I — awkwardly attempting to thank the Don and his subsequent garroting — and Michael’s regaling Kay with the bandleader story, we get the picture. I did too. But Tom was an attorney, and a smart one. Attorneys can always think up a reason to meet with someone. Right. Another example of this same tactic is found in Michael’s statement to senator Geary: “You can have my answer now if you’d like. My offer is this: nothing. Not even the $20,000 for the license, which I’d appreciate if you’d put up personally.” [I think offering him less money was perhaps a final test and way for Vito to further confirm that Fanucci was nothing more than a bag of hot air. Fanucci should have been furious, yet he let Vito get away with it and even said he would help him find work. At that point, Vito had made his decision.] Makes perfect sense to me. I didn’t read the book and so was wondering, same as OP. This also explains the unexpected (to me) thoughtful look on Vito’s face as Fanucci left. Seemed odd, as I would have thought the temporary acceptance of much less money and the job offer a victory. But Vito was clearly more perceptive and street-smart than I. No. Every sequel starts off at a huge disadvantage: it’s simply never going to be as necessary as the first. As Roger Ebert explained, an original film — even a bad one — is just that: original. It was somebody’s genuine inspiration. A sequel, on the other hand, he called “a filmed deal.” Though this film is, quite arguably, the finest sequel ever made, it still suffers from covering the same ground as the first. A good joke or magic trick is never as effective the second time. That said, it is undeniably a very fine and effective film. The acid test is this: how would it fare on its own for someone who had never seen the original? I’ll never be able to know. But I’d guess not too badly. That is a very good point. I just can’t see Clemenza flipping no way no how. He was all about family loyalty. Zaluchi? If anyone needed a rug, it was Don Fanucci. Later on, Clamenza and that guy heading the Kefauver Comission coulda used one. Hell, half the fat middle-aged stumps in both flicks needed one. How right you are. Seen this maybe seven times, but only noticed her this time. She never says a word. No. I don’t even think it’s very good, let alone great. “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.” Completely agree re color and brightness. Saw this as a kid in a big theater in 1972, but don’t remember anything about the color. Also on laserdisc (1982) and various home video releases. The first presentation I had a problem with was the 1998 (1997?) theatrical rerelease. It looked old and faded — terrible. Just watched the 2007 restoration on Netflix — the same one found on the latest Blu-Ray (which I’ve also seen). The indoor “prince of darkness” scenes with deep blacks look magnificent, but as you say — the outdoor scenes are overly bright. Does anyone know what caused this deterioration? I’d guess it’s an issue with the negative since it didn’t seem to appear until decades after initial release. I’m really looking forward to seeing this in a 4KHDR-mastered presentation on an 80” OLED screen someday. Those blacks just aren’t very black on a backlit LCD. And more important, why didn’t he sign the check first? One little detail movies don’t deal well with ... is details. No. That bell could not be unrung. The kid disappearing — and the overreaction to it — bothered me at first. Then I thought about it. 1. Bad told the kid to “Go on — explore!” He likely meant the bar, but the kid probably thought he meant the mall. He’s four. 2. Kids disappear all the time. Ask any parent. 3. He was drunk. 4. The one thing Jean asked of him was not to drink in front of her son. He not only did just that, but took him to a bar to do it. 5. Bad asks Jean what the most important thing to know about her is. Her reply: “I have a son.” So while it is true that a four-year-old can disappear anywhere, any time — even with a sober adult watching — the incident led Jean to learn that he had broken a critical promise to her and could not be trusted with the most important person in her life.