I covet the ability to appreciate Francis Ford Coppola’s 40-year invested sci-fi magnum opus, Megalopolis. Sadly, a mere half hour into the film and I’m desperately seeking grounds for justification, with a sense of decline prevailing thereafter.
The project draws striking parallels to Brady Corbet’s impending work, The Brutalist, an authentic piece of art that similarly sums up his journey as a writer and director.
The most generous assessment one could offer is that Megalopolis attempts but doesn’t succeed in encapsulating Coppola’s life and oeuvres. It possesses elements of the enclosed realities depicted in his later creations like One from the Heart, supplemented with a pleasing shot of the aspiration that moulded Apocalypse Now.
Adam Driver appears as a prodigious architect, entangled in the complexity of corrupt politicians, demagogues, and a scheming media courtesan. Aubrey Plaza is shamefully underutilised as a female journalist who, in line with a tired old movie cliché, has unlimited entree to powerful men and is engaged in illicit liasons with them all.
Megalopolis, or Mega-failure? Francis Ford Coppola spent four decades crafting this epic sci-fi film that falls disappointingly short of greatness on a massive scale.
The unfortunate title of most inadequate female character is bestowed upon Nathalie Emmanuel, portraying Driver’s charmless love interest with lacklustre depth and dynamism.
Despite perceived correlations with the downfall of Rome, echoes of Ayn Rand’s strike-quashing masterpiece The Fountainhead, and a vibrant cast (featuring Shia LaBeouf, Jon Voight, and several Copollas), the film fails to rise above its clumsiness. Potential intriguing political manoeuvres are shrouded by exaggerated personas and a host of unrelated side-stories.
There are instances where it’s difficult to discern if Driver is laughing awkwardly. Perhaps the unofficial guardian of problematic productions – The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, Annette – is unsure whether to chuckle or sob. His emotions mirror ours with uncanny accuracy.
An endearing address, eloquently spoken by Driver’s rebel character, presumably aimed at the director’s late spouse, Eleanor, may resonate more if the primary romance wasn’t so pallid.
The initial screening at Cannes was marked by an audacious extratextual interaction which sadly was omitted from the theatre version. The remaining content can be described as an interesting disaster, remarkably bungled, best viewed partially shielded by the hands due to its grandiose nature. A suggested title, ‘Megaflopolis’, seems apt.
‘Megalopolis’ opens in cinemas from Friday, September 27th.