By Tyler Gulyas
Why is "The Godfather: Part III" the best of the Godfather series? Well it has a lot to do with faith, hope and love, a favorite topic of St. Paul. People will often give the Godfather hallmarks as a sign of why the other Godfathers are so much better: horses heads, Brando's acting, Pachino's eyes, Michael's "no," the "I know it was you," and De Niro's Italian. The awards flow like Clameza's wine and the lines of fans for Parts I and II are as deep as the crowd waiting outside the Don's office on the day of his daughter's wedding.
But aside from Coppola's daughter nearly wrecking the film with her acting, what puts the third movie last in more ways than sequence?
In I and II, Michael is strong and dominate. He is the man that popular culture holds up as the hero, a tough guy who handles the family business. The love is there. Michael's question: "They were hurting my family, what could I do," is poignant, but it is the slow moving tragedy of Michael's soul that keeps people glued.
Hope is what characterizes Kay and Michael's relationship in the beginning, but as circumstance slowly chips away at Michael's idealism, he throws the good out with the bad and starts down the lonely road of vengeance. Soon, all faith in the world is gone and the people have become merely pawns.
Love of family, the initial driving force behind saving his family, is buried behind insecurity that comes with attaining power. Once on top, that position has to be maintained. And people love to watch the rise, the intrigue and the action. Little attention is given to how the hope-filled Michael, seeking to emulate his father and protect his family, trades in his humanity for the power to protect his tribe.
By the time the third movie comes around, the damage is done, his father's son has been killed by his order, Kay has seen the door close on their marriage, and Michael's family is in ruins. Michael's rediscovery of faith, a re-investment of himself in the hope of humanity, and the rekindling of the love that he and Kay once shared ("You know I always loved you, and you know, I always will," Kay says.) is not as appealing as death, shooting and car bombs. Michael's killing of the Turk is far more exciting than Michael's confession to Cardinal Lombarto, and young Vito's shooting of Don Fenucci is much preferred to Michael's vow before his dead friend to "sin no more forever."
The character of Michael comes full circle, and a humanity that was lost in the murder of I and II is re-established, but the slip into tragedy is still there in that it is to late, for "just we (he) thought (he) was out, they pulled (him) back in." And this time it is the very people he tried to protect that receive the punishment.
So give "The Godfather: Part III" a second look, and you might for the fist time see a character develop that you never saw. Michael Corleone is more than the man pulling the strings.
