THE PRICE OF VISION: Francis Ford Coppola's MEGALOPOLIS

MEGALOPOLIS does not work. MEGALOPOLIS does work.

MEGALOPOLIS contains laughably horrible sequences. MEGALOPOLIS contains filmmaking as good as anything Coppola has ever done.

MEGALOPOLIS takes a left turn (among constant left turns) at the start of its final third that lead this writer to think the movie, which had been wobbling the whole time, had totally come off the potter's wheel.

Then it turned out it still had a few more things to say. And it ended with a shot that made this writer tear up. Much to his disbelieving surprise.

In other words, MEGALOPOLIS contains multitudes.

At the same time, it is 100% a cautionary tale about what happens when one makes a movie with one's own money and possibly very few, or no, people around one willing to say "does this really work?".

One moment, you think Coppola is going to pull this crazy vision of New York as a kind of New Rome off and all the critics and haters are wrong. The next moment, you find your body language in your theater seat is one of crossed arms and a torso turned askance in a kind of physical wince.

Let's get into it.

Aubrey Plaza is fearless. As is Shia Labeouf. Big ups.

Adam Driver plays Cesar Catalina, a visionary architect and city planner, determined to create a kind of utopia village/city in the middle of New Rome (a mix of New York and the Roman empire of two thousand years ago). Mayor Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito with gravitas) has no time for Catalina's impractical dreams. His party girl daughter, a sincere Nathalie Emmanuel's Julia, finds herself drawn to Cesar.

They are surrounded by a cabal of family and societal conspirators including Shia Labeouf's intense bold performance as envious cousin Claudio and Cesar's previous mistress, Platinum Wow, a catty news network interviewer/celebrity, played with equal intensity and commitment by Aubrey Plaza.

The whole movie is a sci-fi riff on Ayn Rand's THE FOUNTAINHEAD, the notion that the American empire can learn lessons from the Roman empire, and world art cinema from Fritz Lang's METROPOLIS to Coppola's own RUMBLE FISH.

What should be said more in the discourse about the movie is that it is very intentionally a comedy. This writer has read a lot of discourse that seems to imply the movie is unintentionally laughable.

We respectfully disagree. The movie is clearly meant to be funny. And often times it succeeds.

Hey knuckleheads. The movie is clearly a comedy among many other genres. You’re meant to laugh.

While there are horrible choices and sequences at times, they don't overwhelm the movie. The majority of the movie does "work" on its own terms. And it is a satire of American decadence. The performances are decadent by design. And very funny.

This is also the problem with MEGALOPOLIS. It dives off the cliff into a chasm of theatricality and artifice. Coppola got his start in theater and from ONE FROM THE HEART onwards, Coppola embraced more and more a kind of cinema/theatre aesthetic that embraced stylistic experimentation that called attention to artifice.

But during his untouchable four classic 1970's run of GODFATHER 1, THE CONVERSATION, GODFATHER 2, and APOCALYPSE NOW, there is a cinematic narrative rigor as well absent here.

MEGALOPOLIS is, in many ways, all artifice. All theatrical. It might even work better as a play.

But as a movie, ultimately, it does not work. The very concept of the movie-a science fiction parable where the near future is a combination of the tacky Disneyfication of cities fused with Roman empire aesthetics and murderous power intrigue-doesn't cohere. It always feels like a cornucopia of ideas rather than a powerful story cinematically told.

Then there are the other issues. Either the script was never ready or parts of the movie that were shot didn't work in the editing room. Because the last third of the picture drops characters, plot lines, in a mad rush to get to the finish. Maybe the movie didn't work at three hours and so Coppola took out forty minutes to goose the thing along. But whatever the case, the movie is even more disjointed in its final laps then its first ones.

Adam Driver's Cesar is a fascinating character to start. And, in one of the movie's greatest sequences, we see his self-loathing, self-destruction as a kind of German expressionist descent into a saturated color inferno of drugs intercut with the decadence and "bread and circuses" of the entire society around him.

But Coppola doesn't seem to know what to do with this character. And poor Adam Driver, always committed to his moviemakers' visions, gives it his all but is not protected by his director during some unfortunate sequences after a murder attempt.

The big debate raging inside this writer is if it's really to the benefit of a movie if a filmmaker doesn't have talented collaborators willing to challenge them at every step of the process.

Making a good movie feels akin in some ways to how nature makes a diamond: lots of pressure, lots of dynamic clashing of forces, to fashion a beautiful thing that could only be formed in the bowels of the earth.

It's never fun to be told something doesn't work. Nobody wants to hear that. But you need that kind of pushback through every step of the process to get to greatness.

It's unclear if Coppola had or invited those opposing voices to challenge him.

The other problem with the movie is that Coppola made it with his own money. The visual effects, while passable, aren't jaw dropping as you imagine they would need to be for a movie called MEGALOPOLIS.

If you're going to make a movie about a sci-fi city that sci-fi city better sing. The sci-fi city here doesn't sing. It works fine to communicate the idea. But again, cinema has to do more than just communicate an idea passably.

It has to evoke wonder and suspension of disbelief. It has to create an entire world.

And maybe this is where MEGALOPOLIS fails the most. It just isn't a story gripping enough in a sci-fi world boldly realized enough to work as its own coherent thing.

Instead, we get a commendable movie with incredible sequences and committed performances to the important theme of believing enough in human capacity and vision to change the world for the better.

But, as was said at the beginning, the movie works enough to actually evoke strong emotion and tenderness in its final moments.

You gave it your all, Mr. Coppola. That should always be saluted.

One senses the movie will age better than people think in the first blush of snap judgement. Its ambition and heart are strong, straight, and true.

But a great movie unfortunately needs more than heart and ambition. It needs a rigorous bullshit meter constantly asking does this work? Could it be better?

Coppola wanted to get all his ideas up on the screen. He did. But he didn't make all the ideas cohere into one single great movie.

But we still have to take our hat off to a visionary maverick, who like Cesar Catalina, is willing to bet his entire fortune on his belief in cinema.

Craig Hammill is the founder.principal.head programmer of Secret Movie Club.