Megalopolis: Coppola’s Wildest Film Yet!

It feels like it is forever, but Megalopolis is here. The legendary filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola (the guy behind The Godfather and Apocalypse Now) has not released a movie in over ten years. His last film, Twixt, came out in 2011; since then, nothing has happened. Even when his daughter, Sofia Coppola, made The Bling Ring in 2013, he did not step in as an executive producer. Coppola has been almost completely absent from the film industry for over a decade. However, there is a reason for that.

However, this is not the first time Coppola has taken a long break. After The Rainmaker came out in 1997, he disappeared for ten years and returned with a completely different style. When he left the film industry in ’97, he was a solid but traditional director, having mostly left behind his experimental side in his underrated films from the ’80s.

Rumble Fish is a visually stunning, moody masterpiece, One from the Heart remains one of Coppola’s most ambitious and surreal projects, The Outsiders captures youthful rebellion with raw emotion, and Tucker: The Man and His Dream is an inspiring underdog story that deserves way more recognition, just like Youth Without Youth.

When he made Jack in 1996, he seemed like a filmmaker running on empty. In one scene, Bill Cosby farts so hard he destroys the entire set. This Robin Williams drama-comedy is a total mess and has only worsened over time. Coppola looked like he had lost his way, his creative spark fading as he drifted further from the bold, risk-taking director he once was.

However, when Coppola returned in 2007 with Youth Without Youth, he rediscovered and completely rebuilt his style. This time, though, his approach was heavily influenced by experimental filmmakers. During his time away, he transformed from a director who consistently put out solid films to someone unafraid to take big creative risks. He had found his artistic side again and reclaimed film as his medium.

Coppola seemed to be reliving some of the chaos he went through during Apocalypse Now, and all eyes were on him. However, this time, Megalopolis was dealing with a different set of problems. Instead, people were worried he was pushing himself too hard, making a film so intense that audiences would not be able to connect with it at all, and once again, he was pouring a massive amount of his own money into it.

On top of that, there were allegations that Coppola tried to kiss some extras. However, the truth behind the story is still unclear, and he is suing Variety over it. The film also had an impressive cast with tons of big names. With Coppola mostly funding the project himself, it seemed almost impossible to keep under control. Once again, he was buried under the weight of a massive project, trying to distil countless ideas into a coherent audiovisual story.

Aside from promising stunning visuals, the trailer hinted at a storyline in which Adam Driver’s brilliant artist character goes head-to-head in an ideological battle against a greedy, capitalist society. Given Coppola’s reputation as one of the most imaginative and expressive filmmakers, Megalopolis was bound to be, at the very least, a visually breathtaking and deeply personal experience.

It was impossible not to get swept up in the surreal vision of the story as it unfolded, the tale of Cesar Catilina, an inventor, artist, and architect, fighting against a world drowning in luxury, greed, and vanity while imagining a new utopia for future generations, a film that truly pushes the boundaries of modern filmmaking.

From start to finish, this film is a total visual feast, packed with stunning set designs, bold colors, and some seriously amazing and weird costumes in every frame. Megalopolis clarifies from the first scene that it is all about the visuals when Cesar climbs onto the edge of a towering skyscraper and freezes time right before he falls.

The color scheme is wild, with moody blacks and fiery reds clashing with bright yellows and deep sunset oranges. Every scene in this movie looks like it was pulled straight from some crazy avant-garde art piece.

The set designs are mind-blowing, especially in the film’s two main locations: New Rome and Megalopolis. In New Rome, towering gold-plated towers dominate over roads blazed with barbed wire, separating the wealthy and the working class. It is a jumbled lot, a raucous combination of radical deprivation and over-the-top opulence. The entire vibe is low, confusing, and hard-natural.

Then there is Megalopolis, a whole new world packed with vibrant ecosystems and even a futuristic scientific element that lets the city reshape itself to match whatever its people need. It’s like something straight out of Blade Runner 2049. Cesar’s vision is a full-blown utopia in every sense. At one point, his grandfather Crassus even calls it a modern-day Garden of Eden. But, of course, why tear down the old world to build a new one?

The intense rivalry between Cesar and Franklyn Cicero, the mayor of New Rome, comes from issues like that. Cicero is not some over-the-top villain; he thinks big changes are risky, especially on the massive scale Cesar has in mind. In his eyes, things should stay the way they are or, at most, change slowly enough that no one gets uncomfortable. Why take bold, game-changing risks like Cesar keeps pushing for? That is just not who Cicero is.

He focuses more on keeping things in order, making people happy, and avoiding unnecessary drama. In one of the film’s most emotional scenes, his daughter Julia even calls him out over dinner, telling him his main goal in life is to please as many people as possible rather than actually standing for something.

However, she is not the only one out to take down Cesar. His cousin, Clodio, is gunning for him, again, desirous of Cesar’s intellect as an architect and hopeless to inherit their grandfather’s wealth. Cesar’s dream for Megalopolis is not only some architectural challenge; it is a struggle for survival, with opponents around and an exclusive metropolis monitoring his every movement.

The rest of the film is a crazy, almost nightmarish epic that dives into the worlds of Megalopolis and New Rome and the strange people living in both. This film has big ideas, energy, and a passion for dramatic storytelling. While there are a few influences on the film’s design and plot, William Shakespeare stands out.

It is clear that Megalopolis has a Shakespearean vibe from the first heated argument between Cesar and Cicero, where Cesar dramatically quotes the famous “To be or not to be” monologue from Hamlet. The references do not stop there. Whether the exaggerated, almost theatrical performances remind you of the jesters and fools in his plays or the Romeo & Juliet-style forbidden romance brewing between Cesar and Cicero’s daughter, the film keeps throwing in lots of Shakespearean elements.

However, as things unfold, it becomes clear that the whole story is a loose, rewritten version of Julius Caesar. However, Coppola rewrites the tale to make Shakespeare’s tragedy feel uplifting, almost too idealistic for a 2024 movie, instead of the usual grim story of betrayal and disaster.

Coppola’s film is so weird and interesting because it totally flips the usual rules of a Shakespearean tragedy. A story inspired by Julius Caesar would typically be all about sadness and inevitable doom, but Megalopolis turns that on its head and gives us a story full of fun and hope. The movie says, “Forget about the doom and gloom; we will build something beautiful instead.”

You do not get the usual bitter, backstabbing enemies fighting it out. Instead, you get Cesar, a guy who offers complete forgiveness and understanding even when everyone around him is turning against him.

The movie is brave, conceptually audacious, and strange in the nicest way. The film produces such inconsistent answers because of its peculiar understanding of Shakespeare’s plays, which incorporate elements of his disasters with a nearly romantic environment. Given how greatly it flouts anticipations, some may feel confused or anxious, while others may love it.

There will inevitably be conflict when neoclassicist narrative and aesthetics clash with contemporary sensibilities. The same thing occurs when the film’s strange, abstract components conflict with its more traditional, simple narrative sections. Coppola is aiming high, which is thrilling, but occasionally, he misses the fundamentals because of his ambition.

For instance, consider the editing. When the film embraces its wild, screen-splitting, color-contrasting, expressionistic montage technique, Glen Scantlebury, Cam McLauchlin, and Robert Schafer execute some truly astounding work. Those scenes seem like the epitome of cinema: audacious, mesmerizing, and unmatched by anything else.

However, the fundamental conversational cutting in the next scenario can feel strange. The movie neglected the basics of timing in some of these dialogue-driven scenes since they lacked rhythm. After a scene with clumsy, hurried cuts, you will be treated to a sequence that is so visually stunning that it will leave you speechless. Because of this odd push and pull, the picture is simultaneously thrilling and infuriating.

The acting exhibits the same inconsistency. Driver demonstrates once more why he is one of our time’s most daring and adaptable actors. Here, he excels, giving his all to Cesar’s imposing, dramatic intensity and Nathalie Emmanuel, who is amazing. Then there are Aubrey Plaza and Giancarlo Esposito, both of whom have brilliant moments but also moments when they appear lost. Plaza, in particular, struggles occasionally, as if she is unsure of how to achieve the appropriate tone for various scenes.

Coppola’s film is very personal and something he has been dreaming about for many years. Although it has a whimsical, almost childlike sense of wonder, beneath it all lies a raging frustration. In our culture, you can sense Coppola resisting the way we value material possessions and prestige over genuine advancement, love, and relationships. It is both a movie and an appeal.

Indeed, there are instances when it is too obvious. There are moments when the tempo is erratic, the performances are uneven, and the images are overpowering. However, there are also wonderful, thrilling scenes where the film soars to heights that no other film has attempted in years. Some scenes hit you like a freight train because they are so daring and intensely emotive.

You can feel the film breaking new ground as you watch because of some bold and innovative ideas. It is far from flawless, but that is what makes it unique. In a world of soulless, committee-designed blockbusters, Megalopolis feels like a miracle because it is messy and alive.

Coppola dutifully dedicates his affectionate picture to his late wife, Eleanor, and it is a powerful tribute. Seeing those words before the credits roll after witnessing Megalopolis‘s incredibly moving ending gives the movie’s message a whole new depth. It transforms an already passionate, intensely personal endeavor into something much more moving—something that simultaneously feels like a tribute, a farewell, and a daring declaration of love.

If Cesar’s opening statement, “When we leap into the unknown, we prove that we are free.” does not capture what Coppola is doing with this film, nothing does. Coppola throws himself headfirst into the unknown, defying all the rules of traditional filmmaking and refusing to be constrained by expectations. He is making the movie he wants to make, and in doing so, he has given us something that feels completely different.

Shakespeare, Metropolis, the Dune epic, and the vast, sweeping emotions of silent cinema melodramas are just a few of the enormously diverse influences it draws from. If anything, King Vidor’s The Crowd feels like one of the movie’s closest spiritual forebears. Coppola creates a big and intensely personal vision by fusing various ideas into something original.

However, Megalopolis‘s “warmth” sets it apart. Coppola dares to conceive something different in a time when almost all future visions are grim and dismal, whether they are found in movies like Blade Runner 2049 and Mad Max: Fury Road or in the real-world news cycle. Something more luminous, something positive, and that feels revolutionary in and of itself.

Allow it to pass you by. Immerse yourself in it. Go ahead and “experience” it; be amazed, perplexed, and frustrated because Megalopolis is unquestionably unique, whether you like it or not. The movie has the impression of having been taken from out of one man’s head, unaffected by corporate interference or market-tested bullshit. It is chaotic, untamed, and brimming with ambition. Coppola’s success is a miracle in and of itself; films like this are not created anymore.

Of course, it is far from flawless. It feels natural, even though sometimes it feels awkward, and decisions are completely perplexing. Its heart is in the right place and does not hesitate to show its sincerity and lofty ideals. The pictures are astonishing. The feelings are huge, raw, and overpowering. This type of movie does not only hope for a cult following.

References

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• Ebert, R. (1983). Rumble Fish. RogerEbert.com.
• Lewis, Z. (2024). Francis Ford Coppola: As Big as Possible. In Review Online.
• Monaco, J. (2000). How to Read a Film: The World of Movies, Media, and Multimedia. Oxford University Press.
• Phillips, B. (2020). A Journey Back into the Nihilistic Hellscape That Is Apocalypse Now. The Ringer.
• Rose, S. (2024). ‘Has This Guy Ever Made a Movie Before?’ Francis Ford Coppola’s 40-Year Battle to Film Megalopolis. The Guardian.
• • Shakespeare, W. (1599). Julius Caesar. Oxford University Press.
• • Tallerico, B. (2024). Megalopolis. RogerEbert.com.