As one of
the leading lights of the '70s American film renaissance, director Francis Ford
Coppola proved that it was possible, at least for a time, to make ambitious
personal statements from within the studio system. Though he was nearly fired
during production, Coppola fashioned Mario Puzo's gangster pulp The
Godfather into a
classic American epic, winning the first two of his five Academy Awards. From
there, Coppola finished out the decade with a string of modern masterpieces,
including The Godfather, Part II, The Conversation,
and Apocalypse Now,
the latter a famously troubled production that found him staking his own
fortune in pursuit of his vision. After sinking more of his own money in 1982's
less successful One From The Heart, Coppola began dividing his time between personal projects
and work as a director-for-hire, though his style is so unmistakable that it's
sometimes hard to separate one from the other. Though his commercial and
critical track record over the subsequent 15 years is spotty, debates still
rage over the relative merits of films like The Outsiders, Rumble Fish, The Cotton Club, Tucker: A Man And His Dream, The Godfather Part III, and Bram Stoker's Dracula. (Jack, on the other hand, is a little
short on apologists.)
It's been
ten years since Coppola's last film, an adaptation of John Grisham's novel The
Rainmaker, and he's
spent much of that time trying fruitlessly to crack an ambitious project called Megalopolis.
He's also extended his empire in other ventures, most notably his prominent
Napa Valley wine label, his literary magazine All Story, and numerous upscale restaurants
and resorts. After a long time away from the camera, Coppola has finally
returned to filmmaking with Youth Without Youth, an ambitious self-financed odyssey
based on a novella by the late Romanian philosopher and religious scholar
Mircea Eliade, Tim Roth stars as a 70-year-old linguistic professor in pre-WWII
Romania who gets struck by a bolt of lightning and returns to consciousness 30
years younger. Coppola recently spoke with The A.V. Club about how the challenges of
shooting with his own money, defying viewers' expectations, and making movies
within and without the studio system.
The
A.V. Club: You've said that you start every movie with a question, and the
movie hopefully provides the answer. What was the question with this film, and
what did you learn during the process of making it?
Francis
Ford Coppola: [Mircea]
Eliade's story was so rich in ideas that I was always thinking, "Can I include
all this, or will I have to cut something out?," although I pretty much
included all of it. But the question for me was: What is this miraculous thing,
human consciousness? What enables us, this complicated animal, to have this
thinking process which is self-knowing, and which ties into memory and
expectations, and enables people to have the ability to have concepts like the
future and the past? And we all have it. You, sitting there, know what I mean
by "consciousness" because you have it. But what if I had to explain it to
someone, and in the process, understand it myself? How would I explain it? What
I learned in the course of the movie and what satisfies me is that
consciousness is a combination of the incredibly complex brain that we have,
with all of its nuances, and synapses, and connections that intersect with so
many different bodily activities that include memory and emotion, and that
magic link is language. When we took that complexity and learned how to express
it with language, consciousness, almost like critical mass, was born. Like a
flame. Even back when I was little and they called me "Francie," I remember my
thoughts and the way I viewed everything very well. I asked myself, "When did
that happen? When did I become this Francie consciousness that I have now?" And
I realized that it was around three-and-a-half, four years old, and that's when
I had a little bit of language. So that's what I learned, or what I think I
learned.
AVC:
Was the main challenge to find ways to express those concepts visually, to
translate what are abstract ideas into something that is going to work as a
movie, or as a narrative?
FFC: Well, in terms of how one expresses
ideas or observations in a film, the first thing is that the story itself is
amusing or interesting or exciting. I read [Eliade's novella] and felt
something exciting happened every few pages: [Tim Roth's character] becomes
young, his intellectual ability increases, he comes in to contact with his lost
love, he turns into a double. All of these fascinating things happen. I just
found it entertaining. So I wanted to tell a fairy tale, or a fable, that you
could enjoy on that level. But underneath it were layers and layers of other
notions that we could talk about or better yet, someone could see the film, and
think about when they go to sleep and apply it to their own lives. Did you ever
wonder what, really, reality was, and how the dreams you have at night differ
from experiences you have during the day, which in fact were reality for you?
Is there such a thing as reincarnation? What is the role that language plays in
our thinking? I feel that many thoughts that relate to those things don't have
to be understood when you just enjoy the story. But it's there, underneath, and
you can think about it for yourself when you see the film again, or see it with
someone else, or discuss it with someone else, sort of like when you read a
great book, you enjoy it, but it leaves you with other thoughts. Many times, I
have read books and wonder if I ever understood it at all, even if I may have
enjoyed the love story.
AVC:
In a way, a few movies you made in the '90s like Bram Stoker's Dracula and Jack could be also called Youth
Without Youth.
What has compelled you to return to these themes of time and of age so
frequently?
FFC: I have no idea. I think that's the
Rorschach test. It happens when you choose a subject matter. The ones you talk
about, some of them I had nothing to do with—I was basically offered a
job when I needed a job, and the script was written and it was cast and they
said, "Would you direct it? We'll give you a job." And I said sure. Whereas
with something like The Godfather, I looked at it in my own way. I saw it as a family in a
story of succession. But it's true that the things you choose tell you a lot
about yourself. I don't necessarily understand those things. It really falls to
someone—a critic, or a thinker outside of me—to say "Hmmm, look at
that. Youth Without Youth has a theme about time and so does Rumble Fish." But I didn't know that. Now, when
I think about it, I can say, "Yeah, I guess I am interested in those kinds of
stories." I'm sure as hell not interested in gangsters. I had plenty of chances
to direct other gangster movies, and I never wanted to. So something about me
must rather pick certain kinds of stories. Whenever I meet a couple, and I get
to talk to the wife—because usually they sit you next to the wife—I
always think "Gee, what a smart woman. What an interesting woman." And then my
estimation of the husband goes way up, because she chose him. And I think that
the stuff you choose as a director is a Rorschach test as to who you are.
AVC:
In the film, Tim Roth is given the time and supernatural abilities to pursue
his research on the origins of language, which is a project he would not be
able to complete in the span of an ordinary lifetime. Is that a fantasy that
has gone through your mind at times? Have you thought about what you would do
if time wasn't an issue?
FFC: Well, in a way, time isn't an issue.
Death, although a certainty, is not an absolute certainty. I've never died. So
someone might say to me that my time is up, and they'd reveal a curtain, and
say "Guess what? There is a new phase of life that no one ever tells us about.
But you're not going to die. You're going to go into this other thing to evolve
as a soul, or as an angel, and you're going to get to continue to pursue what
is your greatest pleasure, which is to learn." Who knows? The fun is to
speculate. I don't feel particularly imprisoned by the everyday world. I accept
it. I am sure if I jump out this window, it's not going to be pleasant, and I
am probably going to die, but I don't know for sure. As an older guy, although
I have a lot in common with a six-year-old, I read more, I think more, I enjoy
innovation more, and I'm more accepting that life doesn't have to be the way I
always thought it had to be. I think most people today are imprisoned by what
they have been told movies have to be. I think, after seeing serial television
for 40 years, people have been told that movies have to be a certain way. They
have to be a thriller or a love story, they have to have violence, there has to
be a character arc, there has to be a certain continuity of storyline. I don't
know that that's true, I don't think it's true. But everyone accepts it, and
certainly films that follow the rules often are more commercial, and films that
don't are often more rewarding. At this age, and since I have become
particularly wealthy, I don't particularly care what everybody's prejudice
about what a movie has to be is. I am going to make the movies that I love and
hope that people will see them, just as if I made you dinner I would hope that
you liked it. But in the end, I am not going to serve you fast food just
because it's more likely you will say it was great. I'm dismayed that the film
business has become more narrow, that there isn't more variety in it.
[pagebreak]
AVC:
Is that part of the purpose of this film, to try and reinvent the language a
little bit? What sort of experience do you want people to have with the movie?
FFC: I want them to enjoy it as a Twilight
Zone, to take it as
the story I read and enjoyed and hopefully they're going to enjoy as the
unusual fable of what happens to this man and his long-lost love. I've tried to
make it as I know how to in terms of what it looks like, and how the story is
unveiled. If it doesn't fit quite into your idea of what a movie is supposed to
be, I'd ask that you give it the benefit of the doubt and see if later on you
find it more rewarding. That's happened many times in my career, when the film
comes out and people say, "This is crazy, this is a jumble, I don't understand
it," and then they become classics 30 years later. I'm not going to say that
it's going to happen to this time around, but very often unusual films don't
get public acceptance right away. I mean, if you think back to the year Apocalypse
Now came out, do
you remember what won the Oscar that year?
AVC:
1979? Kramer vs. Kramer?
FFC: Right. So how many people are seeing Kramer vs. Kramer
on their DVDs now?
AVC:
Not many.
FFC: That's the point. Sometimes
something a little unusual doesn't quit fit in right away.
AVC:
It seems like what you're talking about happened with One From the Heart as well. You unveiled that film
again recently, and seemed to find a much more receptive audience.
FFC: Well, One From the Heart did have flaws. If you ask me what I
would do differently in my life, there is only one thing I would do
different—which is pretty good—and that was that three weeks before
we shot that movie, I should not have given in to my cinematographer, who
didn't want to shoot with 16 cameras, and do it like live television. My idea
was that there could be something like live cinema, where you get the cast and
the musical numbers and everything and say, "Okay, kids. We're going on.
5-4-3-2-1." And do the whole performance, and then look at the finished movie.
Maybe do it a couple of times, and take the best version. But my photographer
chickened out and came to me and said, "I can do it so much better. Blah, blah,
blah." And that was the one decision that I regret, because it may not have
been a better film, but I sure would have enjoyed doing it.
AVC:
After shooting movies with studio money for such a long time, what sort of
adjustments did you have to make to pull off this film on a limited budget
overseas?
FFC: Well, there was a lot of money that
we saved by virtue of having no completion bond, no bankers, and no legal
complexities that cost money. Lots of what the studio requires you to do to
conform with their system actually cost the production, I would guess, 20% of
what the budget is. Not to mention, if you look at how many producers are
listed on the average movie today, just imagine what the plane fares cost if
everybody visits the set once, and what the hotel rooms must cost. So
basically, what I learned being my own financier was that you can make film
much more economically.
AVC:
Did the fact that this film was self-financed ever play on your conscience?
What kind of pressure does that put on a movie, when you know that it's coming
out of your coffers and not someone else's?
FFC: Well, I had been through that before, many times, except
with much bigger budgets. On Apocalypse Now, the budget went over $35 million
dollars, and I was on the hook for the whole thing. One From The Heart was $28 million, and I ate it. I
paid the bank back, even though it took me ten years, from age 40 to 50, making
a film every year to pay the bank back. This budget was under $15 million, and
I am much richer now than I was then. So it's immaterial to me. Money is there
to make your dreams come true. There's no other purpose for money.
AVC:
You were talking about studio filmmaking. Recently, a substantial amount of
studio money has been put behind big, idiosyncratic productions like There
Will Be Blood,
and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Do you feel like the culture in
Hollywood is changing in any way? Is there money out there for directors with
ambition like there was?
FFC: I don't know. I wonder if the money
for those pictures is really coming from the studios. A lot of that money is
independent money, and the studios are just partnered with it. Of course, with Jesse
James, that movie had the support of
arguably the biggest actor in the world. So, you're going to do a western on
Jesse James, you have Brad Pitt and a young Casey Affleck. It's so subsidized
by the elements, and a lot of money isn't studio money. As for the Daniel
Day-Lewis movie, I'm not sure who financed it. But finance isn't always the same
as the studios. The studios will accept an outside financier if they reduce the
risk. It's sort of like UA releasing Apocalypse Now, though I had all the risk. So I
don't know if those really are studio pics. I know that studios really do not
want risk.
AVC:
Maybe then the question that I am asking is if there is more loose money out
there.
FFC: There is a lot of loose money out
there. Of course, less since there has been this credit crunch. There are a lot
of wealthy people who would love the honor of being associated with a
successful movie. The problem is that the distribution network is where the
bottleneck is. If you've got a Brad Pitt picture, odds are that it will be
distributed. But so many of these talented younger or eccentric filmmakers
really struggle, and don't get a release. Period. And they're sweating other
forms of how they can release the film. So the issue is really that there is a
lot of talent out there, and a lot of money out there, I believe. But what is
starting to dry up is distribution. There are too many pictures being made and
distributed, coming out every week, each one flooding out the other.
AVC:
Have there been opportunities over the last 10 years that you passed up, or
have you been that devoted to cracking Megalopolis?
FFC: I'm a monomaniac. When I was working
on Megalopolis,
I pretty much only wanted to do that, and when I'm offered a studio picture, I
can look at it and take a few phone calls, but I'm either too old or too
wealthy to put up with that. I don't really want to do that anymore. Also, I'm
offered projects where there are five directors I can think of who can do it as
good, or better, than me. I want to make movies that only I can make. Youth
Without Youth,
maybe I'm crazy, but I am the only one who would make that movie. It would not
be a movie if I had not existed. I was offered Thirteen Days, and I had some wacky ideas about
how to do it. But they didn't want wacky ideas. And in the end, the guy
[director Roger Donaldson] did it fine. I want to make movies with the same
attitude as if I were going to fall in love with something. And if I don't,
there isn't enough money on earth to pay me to do it.
AVC:
Are you any closer to getting Megalopolis finished?
FFC: I'm not working on it. I've
abandoned it.
AVC:
You're on Tetro now?
FFC: I am about to start it very soon,
like January.
AVC:
What is that about?
FFC: It's an original screenplay. It's
very different than Youth Without Youth. It's a very personal story, sort of my Tennesee
Williams story where I'm trying to reach back to the younger person that I was
and things I saw. It's not autobiographical, but it deals with issues of family
and several generations—uncles and fathers and nephews and nieces, all of
whom are artists and the pros and the cons of that.