For better or for worse, Francis Ford Coppola’s decades-long personal project Megalopolis seems to be one of the year’s most talked-about films, yet nobody is actually bothering to watch it. Walking into a Saturday matinee screening, a lone middle-aged couple was all that greeted me, and even their presence was surprising. This film had a $120 million budget, with months of festival buzz leading up to its IMAX wide release across North America, but only made back $4 million in its opening weekend—a staggeringly weak box office debut for such a pricey project. Everything surrounding Megalopolis, from its staggering production history to the actual film’s bizarre nature, may be intriguing enough to pique some film lovers’ interests. Make no mistake, though; Megalopolis is an outright disaster of a movie, especially considering it comes from such an incredibly esteemed director.
The road to Megalopolis’ creation began in 1977 when Coppola first thought up its ideas while filming Apocalypse Now. Maybe this younger, evidently brighter Coppola could have purposefully molded these ideas into something great. Unfortunately, as the years slipped away from Coppola, in the midst of countless issues in bringing this massive work to life, so did his remarkable talent. That’s not to undermine the timeless significance of The Godfather or The Conversation, but not all great directors display the same level of talent throughout their careers. Even Coppola’s own belated conclusion to The Godfather series, The Godfather Part III, was sorely disappointing, no matter which version of it he released. In the case of Megalopolis, a project eventually self-financed from Coppola’s own winery, his level of passion in completing this grand vision is undeniable. Nevertheless, a creator’s passion should not shield any film from valid criticism, which Megalopolis unfortunately deserves in every possible regard.
Megalopolis takes place in a hypothetical “New Rome,” an alternate present-day American Republic riddled with crime and corruption. Among its inhabitants are the visionary architect Cesar Catalina (Adam Driver, in his most narcissistic performance ever put to screen), the sexually manipulative TV reporter Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza), the scheming anarchist Clodio Pulcher (Shia LaBeouf), and many more ridiculously-titled characters. Cesar, ostensibly Megalopolis’ protagonist, wants to use “Megalon” — a magical substance seemingly discovered when he tried resurrecting his dead wife (yeah, you read that right) — to rebuild this troubled city. Unfortunately, Cesar’s idealized utopia only feels like a bad Playstation 2 cutscene, with the extent of his perfect society being limited to floating glass orbs and flowing walkways. For someone who confidently insists, “We’re in need of a great debate about the future!” he never clarifies how this ludicrous nonsense will magically solve New Rome’s many societal issues.
As the opening scene of Megalopolis immediately establishes, Cesar also has the power to stop time at his own will, which is never given any explanation whatsoever. Even so, rather than this mysterious ability serving any actual purpose, he’s only ever seen using it in completely useless ways. Numerous major conflicts, in fact, are inexplicably resolved or outright forgotten as quickly as they’re introduced. When out-of-control satellites shoot down from outer space to destroy skyscrapers, you’d think that would have to drastically affect the narrative in some way, but no. It’s a 2.5-hour bombardment of absolutely incoherent lunacy, which quickly becomes far more exhausting than engaging. By the time an incredibly anticlimactic ending finally arrives, it’s as if this story could have concluded anywhere or been structured in any conceivable order.
Not all films need to be constrained to a conventional narrative or visual style. David Lynch’s best work, such as Mulholland Drive or Twin Peaks, boldly challenges the audience in every conceivable way yet is crucially held together by so much skilled craftsmanship and meaningful storytelling. Despite Coppola’s clear wealth of intriguing ideas, Megalopolis is frustratingly inconsistent on both fronts. On one hand, its cinematography can occasionally be striking, like when Cesar and his driver (Laurence Fishburne) drive through New Rome’s colorfully rainswept streets at night, and colossal statues slump over as though they’re real people. On the other, every CGI effect (which becomes increasingly frequent as the film goes on) just looks bizarrely cheap, breaking any immersion the viewer may have in this fantastical world. Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things went for a similar style, creating an artificially heightened reality through visuals alone, but far more smoothly pulled it off with less than half the budget. No matter Coppola’s ambition in creating this imagined universe, there’s really nothing cohesive or well-realized about its overall execution.
Whether or not Megalopolis has any intended satirical intent, it is pretty tough to like or even recommend at all. On top of all that, reports have surfaced of Coppola’s alleged sexual harassment of female extras on set, which really cast a long shadow over the film’s production. Worse, a fake statutory rape video factors its way into the actual plot, uncomfortably paralleling Coppola’s real-life defenses of his filmmaking “protégé”—and convicted pedophile—Victor Salva. Regardless of Coppola’s actions as a person, Megalopolis just isn’t a very good movie. There is something to be said for such a prestigious director striving to potentially go out with a real bang, but no matter how wild his cinematic swings are, it’s profoundly exasperating to see none work to any satisfying end.
