Megalopolis

Marcus Unrealius

or

Utopias Turn to Dystopias

 

"Look back over the past, with its changing empires that rose and fell, and you can foresee the future too."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

More than a decade ago, at a second-hand book store, I picked up a tome called "The Greatest Movies Never Made,"* which detailed a lot of films that had been proposed, had gotten to the script stage or pre-production and then for whatever reason, it was never made—films like Jodorowsky's conception of Dune, Hitchcock's Kaleidoscope, Philip Kaufman's Star Trek film: Planet of the Titans...

 

...and Francis Ford Coppola's Megalopolis.

 

Now, that book was written a couple decades ago, but the sound of it was intriguing, although a little vague about the details.** It sounded like Fritz Lang meets Ayn Rand in a sci-fi setting. But, Coppola was determined to get it made.

A concept drawing of Megalopolis that I remember from that book.

 

And now, using his own money, he has, at the age of 84. 

 

"A man's worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions."

 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

 

Based very loosely on events known as the Catilerian Conspiracy, Coppola's film tells the story of Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), nephew of the rich and powerful Hamilton Crassus III (Jon Voight) and head of the Design Authority of New Rome in the "Third Millennia, 21st Century," a city divided between the extremely rich and the poor. Catalina has access to a wonderful substance called Megalon—another wonder-element along the lines of adamantium or unobtainium—the purpose of which is simultaneously vague and omni-versatile. With it, Catilina intends to build a "perfect school-city for the future" in the heart of New Rome, while the Mayor of New Rome, Francis Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito) would rather build a new casino, another pleasure-dome for the rich and idle. At a televised unveiling for the proposed gambling complex, Catilina interrupts by reciting Hamlet's soliloquy (almost all of it) and accusing Cicero of being nothing more than a slum-lord.

But, before one gets any further into the plot, there is one curious thing to mention: In the preliminary sequence of the film, it's shown that Cesar seems to have the ability to stop time. Walking precariously to the edge of the Chrysler Building, he leans over and stops time—the fleeting clouds halt and the traffic below comes to a standstill with nary a honk. And in that gap, Cesar rights himself, defying gravity and moves back away from the edge. That would seem to be a really big story-point, but except for another sequence where he does it and some business about losing the ability later in the script, not much is done with it. Is it a fantasy (could be)? A vision (there is evidence of such in Megalopolis)? A delusion (there, too)? As a thesis statement for a movie, it's a powerful one, but rather than hammer it home, it's a neglected conceit. 

 

The movie will have a lot of those.

"The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing, because an artful life requires being prepared to meet and withstand sudden and unexpected attacks."

 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

 

If Cesar was just in conflict with Mayor Cicero, things would be easy, despite the considerable clout the Mayor commands (aided and abetted by characters played by Jason Schwartzman, Dustin Hoffman, and others). But, there's others including his cousin Clodio Pulcher (Shia LaBeouf), heir to the Crassus fortune, who despises Cesar and seems to live for outliving his uncle to gain his inheritance, a deep-seated attraction to debauchery and finding any means to thwart Cesar at any cost. Then there's Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza), a tele-"journalist" with a ravenously ambitious streak attracted to power, starting first as Cesar's mistress and then marrying Crassus with the aim of becoming a rich and powerful widow. 

All of these characters are, to say the least, self-obsessed, but, then, so is Cesar, even if his devotion is to seeing the creation of his Megalopolis and done to his precise vision of what could be possible with Megalon. Aiding him in his quest are his chauffeur/historian Fundi Romaine (Laurence Fishburne), and a fascinated acolyte, former good-time girl Julia Cicero (Nathalie Emmanuel), daughter of the Mayor, who begins to become fascinated with Cesar after witnessing him stop time during the demolition on the Megalopolis site (how come she isn't frozen and does anybody else notice that...?...let's not quibble as you're not going to get any answers).

The film follows the burgeoning relationship between Julia and Cesar and the various machinations to discredit our hero and his ambitions, even as we're led through the decadence and the moral lassitude of the upper-crust of New Rome, living like there's no tomorrow while the vast majority of New Rome can only gawp at them through chain-link barriers. Oh...and there's one other complication—A Russian space station has become de-stabilized in orbit and will probably land square on New Rome causing mass destruction on a convenient scale.

Coppola has been working on this project since Apocalypse Now, actually starting filming it in 2000—that's where he's getting the city-spires reflecting golden hour magic on a grand scale—but financial ruin, studio cold-feet, 9-11, and his fortune-making wine business all delayed progress, while he dabbled in small films with smaller budgets to see how he could make things more economically. All the time events in the press influenced the script, concept-artists came and went, and Coppola tinkered, re-wrote and tinkered again, the idea always in the back of his mind.

"It is the responsibility of leadership to work intelligently with what is given, and not waste time fantasizing about a world of flawless people and perfect choices."

 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

So, how is it? A bit of a mess, really. But, a glorious mess. Not unlike his movie Twixt, and not unlike the Redux cut of Apocalypse Now—with the pace-killing French plantation scene which the under-the-gun Coppola finally cut completely, making a tighter more-focused film. One should always be wary of Directors' so-called "dream projects"—sometimes they're just too close to the things to be rigorous about it and lose the sense of the audience's dispassionate perspective. It's nice to have complete control, as long as you don't Ayn Rand the thing to death with the "purity" of your vision. There are whole little bits where the actors are encouraged to improvise (I'm thinking of a scene in Cesar's office where he's supervising co-workers in forming an odd human pyramid to create a geometric shape that—although it might have been fun to do on-set at the time—seems completely nonsensical and...unnecessary to advancing the story) that might have been better left on the cutting-room floor.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't. 

 Hamlet (Polonius, Act 2 Scene 2)

William Shakespeare

 

But...but...there are moments where the imagery is just too exquisite to ignore. Coppola has always had a great eye, whether as a consumer or as a producer of movies, and there are odes to Fritz Lang (especially his Metropolis which is a spiritual cousin to this), German expressionism in general—even an ending nabbed from The Great Dictator—and his own experiments with practical effects in Bram Stoker's Dracula, Apocalypse Now, and techniques of the silent era—so many irises, split screens, and layered images (his way of showing the satellite's destruction of New York is far more interesting than just another CGI shock-wave and he had one act of violence that propelled me out of my seat) that you can't help but be dazzled.

But maybe not seduced. For all the luxuriousness of the visuals, the story is a little threadbare, lacking some connecting tissue that might have propelled the story along, little details (something Coppola is so good at) that might have prevented some thought-stuttering that wrenches you out of the flow of  experience that a more assured story-narrative would ensure. There are just too many leaps of faith that make the watching less comfortable and more precarious.

It also might have something to do with Coppola being much more versed in the Catilerian Conspiracy than your average movie-goer. Although there's nothing wrong with aspiring to connect with the lowest common demoninating audience, I doubt that many folks will recognize his references—"Oh, yeah, that 'vestal virgin' thing!"—and be merely puzzled as they go over your head like so much satellite debris.

"Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth."

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

 

So, what do we have in Megalopolis?  Let's call it a tentative failure. One should always be cautious with first impressions, even though one should trust their instincts. But, the shock of the new may blind-side you—it happened with Apocalypse Now, after all—and I'm always a bit cautious with late-era directorial efforts, like the casual dismissals of Stanley Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut or John Ford's 7 Women, both of which get better with every viewing. And one should always give extra credit to a director swinging for the fences even if they never get out of the infield. 

One might go forward by looking back. Coppola has made a wide variety of films, some of which have connected with audiences and some that haven't. With very few exceptions—I'm thinking The Conversation—they have dealt with interconnectedness, of people relating to each other despite differing perspectives, and different personal agendas.

And they're about family, whether it's a formalized family or not, nuclear or not—of the stoic and disciplined against the passionate and unprincipled. And they're about ambition and how it can inspire...or destroy. Those conflicts can exist in any person, but most obviously in artists. It's like Coppola has been making autobiographies about his own conflicting artistic instincts in the same way Howard Hawks' "teamwork" movies were inherently metaphors for making movies. A much younger Coppola would have made Megalopolis end as a cautionary tale. The older, wiser, more hopeful Coppola ends this one with positive reconciliation.

 

Perhaps reappraisals can start with that.

“The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.” 

 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

 

* Or something like that. I lent it to someone and, as I'd read it cover to cover, I didn't care if I got it back. Since it's publication, there've been a couple of other books with similar titles about the same subject. 

 

** Coppola always played things tight to the vest. I read an interview with Coppola in Andrew Sarris' "Interviews with Film Directors" where he was asked about what his next movie was (this was around the time of The Rain People) and he answered "I've written a script called "The Conversation". It's about a guy on his 50th birthday." Technically true, but he left a lot of it out.

Emily the Criminal

Just Two Paychecks Away

or

"No...But, Yeah."
 

Emily Benetto (Aubrey Plaza) is applying for a job, office work. Pleasantries. Resume Glance-Over. Good, so far. Smile, smile.

 

Then, the interviewer brings out her background check. There's that DUI a few years ago. Then, there was the aggravated assault charge just a couple years back. Then, a nerve twitches in her right cheek and the eyes start to blink and come back narrowed. The smile turns into a sneer and Emily goes on the attack.

 

How did he get her background info? He must have known about it the whole time! Why the charade of even having an interview if he had that information? Why, if she can't trust him about that, how can she trust him about anything? How could he be so deceitful? Well, the interview is over and she goes stalking out. Oh, and, by the way, she takes her background information file with her, even though it's probably available to anyone who asks.

Fuming, Emily goes back to work. Gig work. She's a delivery-driver for buffet meals for events, with lots of heavy-lifting and stairs if there are no elevators. It's mechanical and she doesn't have to interact with the public, as they wait like cattle for the toughs to be filled. She has $70,000 worth of school debt (art major), which she'll never be able to pay off at this rate and that record keeps her from getting steady employment. There's no statute of limitations and she's stuck. A couple mistakes and her life is hosed and she has to content herself with work anybody can do (if they don't ask questions) and rooming with strangers just to have a roof over her head. The system is against her and there's no way of getting out of it. Welcome to America in the 21st Century.

Emily bumps into a co-worker in a jam—he's promised to go to his kid's baseball game and can't make a delivery, so Emily takes it. As thanks, he gives her a phone number for a job that pays $200 for one hour's work. She calls the number and the phone-call is rather sketchy: she's given an address and a time to be there. Just in case, she checks her bear-spray. At least, that's working.

It's a run-down warehouse space, and she's told to hand over her I.D. She does so, reassured that she'll get it back. She then goes into the backroom where another 25 people are waiting, and when things start, the guy has one question: he says that they'll be making $200 in cash, but what they're going to be doing is illegal. If you have a problem with that, get out.

The job is dummy-purchasing. They are going to be handed credit cards and the job is to go in and buy a big-ticket item, like a wide-screen TV. Pay for it with the credit card and leave, and meet at a secure location. "Are the credit cards stolen?" "No, but the information on them is." "What if they check my I.D.?" They hand her a driver's license with her picture on it." "Is that you?" She pulls off the job and is immediately handed $200 in cash. "We have another job and it pays $2,000." She tentatively agrees.

 

Emily the Criminal is a lean and mean crime drama about the black market that sits just under the skin of everyday life. You know it exists. You might even be taking advantage of it. It might even be taking advantage of you if your information has been hacked or your credit cards stolen. It uses the cracks in our system for the sake of convenience and using it against entities who will be writing off the losses anyway. The losses are societal, absorbed in rising insurance costs and anonymous fraud charges. Out of sight, out of the ledgers. The companies and the banks and the credit companies know all about it, but there is nothing they intend to do about it, as accepting the loss is cheaper than what it'll cost to get used product back.

For Emily, it's a chance to get her head above water and maybe, eventually, get out of the grind. But every gig has its own grind that sand-papers the nerves down, and pretty soon, she has to contend with bad actors, theft, threats, and even murder, but she takes it in stride. She's built up so much bitterness for "The System" that's kept her down, that, at least now, she's in a fair fight, and it's survival of the fittest.

One can't say enough about Plaza in this movie. She's always been freakishly good, like an adult version of Wednesday Addams, on a track by herself, that very few other actors could pull off. But, here, there's something dead behind the eyes that convinces you that she could do the things she does and be the person who will do what it takes to survive. It's her movie and she's in almost every frame, leading the camera along as she descends into the underworld. The film, in its spareness, has an old Warner Bros. gangster quality to it and it packs an ironic punch along the lines of I Was a Fugitive From a Chain-Gang.

It's visceral. You'll come out more direct, more brittle, and more arrogant, and amazed that this little film with the limited budget and cast can affect you, piercing the complacency and making you more raw. And just a little meaner.

 

This is writer-director John Patton Ford's first feature film. It will not be his last.