Courtesy Lionsgate Films
If Megalopolis is what happens when legendary filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola gets to do his thing fully unfettered by the yoke of the studio system, then perhaps he’s a bit like his old buddy George Lucas—self-indulgent to the max.
Like Lucas’ Star Wars prequels, Megalopolis is a visually arresting film with very little substance and a parade of baffling performances and confounding dialogue. If it is self-portraiture (and there’s a pretty good argument to make that most art is that), it is shamelessly self-aggrandizing; if it is meant to feel Shakespearian in its structure and dramatics as its first act invocation of Hamlet suggests…well, it’s just plain not that.
Megalopolis follows the political wheelings and dealings of the fictional city of New Rome, one which weirdly has nods to American politics and institutions while looking insanely similar to New York City. There, the flawed but, we’re told, brilliant Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver) runs the enigmatic Design Authority, an ostensible public works department that is supposed to…I dunno, build shit, maybe. Cesar can stop time (though Coppola never makes it clear if the time stops are real or if it’s his nod to how art freezes singular moments), and he’s fresh off a Nobel Prize win for creating some kind of super-cool sci-fi building material that’s supposed to revolutionize everything. He’s at odds with the city’s Mayor Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), however, which sure doesn’t get better for Cesar when he falls for Cicero’s daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel). Cue idealistic and heavy-handed diatribes on futurist egg-breaking and speeches about how the proletariat just doesn’t know what’s best for it; cue no small amount of non-sexy sex and hints of incest and pedophilia.
Coppola does manage to deftly weave the inner workings of family in a way that feels akin to Shakespeare—most everyone is related somehow and most everyone hates everyone else—but this is where the parallels stop. Nearly everything else Coppola leaves unexplained, unexplored or fallen flat. Much of the big story beats happen offscreen following short scenes wherein characters explain what they’re gonna do, then we jump to those things already in motion.
Of particular concern is actor Shia LaBeouf as the Nero-esque Clodio. One could call it strange that a man accused of physical and emotional abuse would take the role of an abusive, politicking maniac, but against Aubrey Plaza’s non dimensional gold-digging Wow Platinum (that’s really the character’s name), his character fades into noise. Ditto for bit parts from Dustin Hoffman as a mayor’s aide or something, the film doesn’t say, Jon Voight as a creepo banker and Talia Shire as Cesar’s nay-saying mother. If this sounds confusing, actually seeing the film doesn’t make it any easier. Oh yeah, and Jason Schwartzman (himself a Coppola) is in there, too.
Driver cobbles together an interesting enough Bruce Wayne-esque character who knows he knows what’s best. Even he can’t fix Megalopolis, though, particularly when his character never gets to establish a foothold beyond “he smart.” Coppola tosses in a bunch of weird montages and some dramatic-ass narration by Laurence Fishburne, but these elements, too, won’t help the audience find an anchor point. Years from now, people will cite this film as one of the prettiest of its time, though they’ll likely hem and haw when asked if it was any good.
4
+Gorgeous; intriguing in its own way
-Hollow characters; trite writing; irritating in its poorly executed intricacies
Megalopolis
Directed by Coppola
With Driver, Esposito, Emmanuel, La Beouf, Plaza, Hoffman and Voight
Violet Crown Cinema, R, 138 min.
