It’s easy to laugh at the dreamers. Who can resist that special kind of schadenfreude, where a big, bold idea holds up like paper mache in a hurricane? Or when an artist pours their ideology into a work, only for it to bottom out like a ripped bag? Or when Francis Ford Coppola sells a vineyard to fund his $120-million “movie,” Megalopolis?
While Megalopolis is Coppola’s first film in over a decade, versions of its script were workshopped in the early ‘80s. Though it’s unclear what (if any) feedback contributed to its final form. Probably not much, given what could’ve been a beautiful retrospective from a landmark filmmaker unfolds as an incoherent — albeit optimistic — mess.
Set in the NYC-adjacent New Rome, Megalopolis follows Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), a time-controlling architect committed to building a city that grows with its people. Unfortunately, he’s often blocked by his rival, Frank Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), who clings to a more conservative vision for the city. Meanwhile, Cesar’s cousin Clodio Pulcher (Shia LaBeouf) and his ex-fling turned aunt, a sensational newscaster named Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza), seek to destroy Cesar. Finally, the mayor’s daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel), falls in love — and into employment — with Cesar as she searches for purpose in her life.
Save a few interesting sequences, Cesar’s power to stop time doesn’t meaningfully impact the story. It certainly could, like when leaked and doctored footage thrust him into a scandal involving an alleged minor. Instead, we follow Julia through the next day discovers a birth certificate, which is enough to pardon Cesar. It’s a random plot point, sure, but it also lacks any real consequence. This makes it hard to see this as anything but Coppola declaring that sometimes, sexual assault allegations aren’t true. Who knows whether this point existed in his previous scripts? But given the on-set allegations against the director, it’s hard not to see the segment as autobiographical and painfully misguided.
This is just one of many sequences that feel less like a film and more so an ideological dump devoid of meaningful plot, tension, character development or anything else that would make Megalopolis enjoyable. That’s not to suggest that narrative cohesion always brings a film together. Alejandro Jodorowsky’s Holy Mountain and even the Jackass franchise don’t have an overarching story. Still, both examples tie together vignettes that work toward something greater, for comedy or a deeper philosophical purpose.
What Megalopolis does have, however, is a distinct style. Though the rampant CGI often adds a glossy and overly synthetic veneer, the orange and cloudy skies interrupted by rays of sunlight speak to Coppola’s sense of hope. Arguably, the futuristic visions of Megalopolis — with walkways made of light orbs for public transit — also sustain the message. Yet even then, these images fail to resonate because they lack what the rest of the film does: substance.
The music, while pleasant, also rings hollow as the backdrop to this meandering flick. Osvaldo Golijovu’s score evokes grandeur, but it often feels mistimed, much like most of the scenes in Megalopolis. Scores don’t operate in a vacuum. If what we see doesn’t in any meaningful way justify what we hear, both mediums suffer.
Coincidentally, “suffering” is a generous description of the film’s performances. LaBeouf and Plaza bring life to their respective roles, with the former serving as our devilish Trump stand-in. Plaza, on the other hand, seizes control of her scenes, though even she stumbles with a partially developed character. Driver fairs worse, as if he’s actively disengaged from the paper-thin Cesar. The protagonist aims for a stoic mystique but lands on feeling flat and detached.
Despite Megalopolis missing the mark as the film, it’s still compelling as a project. Coppola had a vision that persisted for over half of his life. He had multiple opportunities to drop the project. And maybe from a financial perspective, he should have. Yet he persisted, ultimately creating the exact film he wanted to make. Too bad what he made wasn’t for any of us.
