If anything is clear about “Megalopolis,” it’s that Francis Ford Coppola has a lot on his mind.
The legendary filmmaker spent decades on this Roman-style epic, set in the present day, about a civilization on the brink of collapse. A wealthy and powerful few of the old guard are running the gilded city of New Rome into the ground, a new generation is embroiled in a stalemate of a culture war between hedonists and puritans and a visionary architect caught in the middle is dreaming up a different future.
But none of that captures the wild experience of actually watching “Megalopolis,” a sprawling, operatic, clumsy and fascinating film that should inspire discussions for many years to come.
“Megalopolis” is not a disaster, but it’s far from a success. It’s a bacchanalia that’s bursting with so many ideas, so many characters, so many great lines and truly terrible ones as well that it’s nearly impossible to digest in a single, baffling viewing.
If there is a center to this story it’s Adam Driver’s Caesar Catilina, an artist who can stop time and who believes that a substance called Megalon, a shimmering people mover that can be used to make a translucent (but not naked) dress or reconstruct a face mangled by a gunshot, is the way to a utopia. Driver is a great actor who is utterly misused here as a grief-stricken, alcoholic, “Hamlet”-quoting megalomaniac aristocrat who spends his days in an art deco ivory tower (the Chrysler Building) fretting about time and what the corrupt Mayor Franklyn Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito) is doing to the city.
We’re supposed to believe that Caesar is a widely desired catch who would attract the mayor’s beautiful daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel) to his side. But Kylo Ren had more charisma than Caesar. The story’s ability to sell Caesar as something special is not helped by Julia, more symbol than character despite plentiful screentime, whose leaden dialogue is not given any life or spark by Emmanuel.
Their Romeo-and-Juliet love story is labored, to say the least, despite some stunning shots that might suggest otherwise. It’s a problem with much of the conflicts and connections in the film, which all sound great on paper — they should, as much of it is drawn from juicy Roman history — but fumble in execution.
That’s not to say that all the actors wither under the excess. The great Talia Shire, as Caesar’s cold mother, does more than either Driver or Emmanuel, with just a handful of lines and scenes. Aubrey Plaza, too, seems to have understood exactly what “Megalopolis” needed from a character named Wow Platinum, a social-climbing broadcast journalist who marries Jon Voight’s bank scion Hamilton Crassus III: a high dose of camp. She embraces the silliness of her dialogue, seeing the comedic potential in every ridiculous moment.
It’s hard to stress just how much there is stuffed into two hours and 18 minutes. Shia LaBeouf is Clodio Pulcher, the rich kid son of Crassus, who has Mae West eyebrows and long feral hair. He is in love with Julia, jealous of Caesar and may be having an incestuous relationship with his party girl socialite sister Clodia (Chloe Fineman). He attempts his own political bid, preying on the city’s desperate peasant class. Laurence Fishburne is Caesar’s driver (and the narrator of the film). Dustin Hoffman is a fixer. Jason Schwartzman is around (and delightful, as always). There’s a pop star named Vesta Sweetwater (Grace VanderWaal) who has taken a virginity pledge. Even Romy Mars plays a teen reporter!
“Megalopolis” shines brightest with its crafts, including Milena Canonero’s decadent Roman-inspired frocks, Osvaldo Golijov’s sweeping, romantic score and Mihai Mălaimare Jr.’s golden cinematography that makes the feast of the production design glow lovingly.
But this is a film that I can only in good conscience recommend fully to cinephiles, who were most certainly going to see it regardless. It’s Coppola’s first in 13 years, after all, and one that he boldly and admirably self-financed. I hope that it’s the movie he wanted to make. For anyone else, it’s a tougher sell — not unworthy of someone’s time and money, but also not guaranteed to be especially rewarding or satisfying for anyone hoping that he’s made another “Godfather” (and who hasn’t watched “Twixt” or “Tetro”).
Coppola is an artist whose films sometimes take time to find their place in audiences’ hearts and minds. No one understands that as pointedly as he does. Whether or not there’s a drastic reappraisal somewhere down the line, “Megalopolis” will forever be a fascination.
“Megalopolis,” a Lionsgate release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “sexual content, nudity, drug use, language and some violence.” Running time: 138 minutes. Two stars out of four.
