This is part three of a series on Francis Ford Coppola’s Godfather Trilogy. You can read my reflection on the original film, “The Godfather” (1972), here and on “The Godfather Part II” (1974) here.
Crime and Catholicism interweave through the story of the Corleone family. The original “Godfather” opens with a big Italian-Catholic wedding and climaxes with a baptism, intercut with scenes of bloody vengeance. “Part II” features a First Communion party where shady deals are made, a statue of Christ covered in money, a gunshot covered by fireworks at a religious festival and a Hail Mary followed by a bullet. Of course, the nickname “Godfather” itself is a reference to the sacrament of baptism and the mob bosses’ role as the dark spiritual guides of their families.
Which brings us to “The Godfather Part III” (1990), the most explicitly Catholic entry in the series. The film, directed by Francis Ford Coppola and co-written by Coppola and Mario Puzo, finds an aging Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) worrying, for the first time, about the state of his immortal soul. While the previous films dealt with Michael’s rise to power and the lengths he would go to keep it, the final chapter examines the cost of that power and if it is possible for him to find salvation.
“Part III” opens with Michael receiving a papal knighthood for the charitable work of his foundation, chaired by his daughter, Mary (Sofia Coppola). In the years since the last film—which culminated with Michael ordering the murder of his brother Fredo—the Godfather has attempted to get clean. He tries to become a legitimate businessman, working with the weaselly Archbishop Gilday (Donal Donnelly), the head of the Vatican Bank. He holds his family’s illicit dealings at arm’s length and considers a successor in Vincent (Andy García), the illegitimate son of his late brother Sonny. But with new enemies and old sins converging around him, Michael may not live long enough to find redemption.
Christ says that he came to call sinners, not the righteous (Lk 5:32), and this film finds Michael daring to hope in that promise. While in Rome, he visits with Cardinal Lamberto (Raf Vallone), a fictionalized version of Cardinal Albino Luciani, who would become Pope John Paul I. The cardinal invites Michael to make a confession, his first in many years. Michael is hesitant: “What is the point of confessing, if I don’t repent?”
But with Lamberto’s gentle encouragement he does confess, including to the murder of his brother. For the first time we see Michael break down, the guilt that has festered in his soul erupting to the surface. Lamberto’s assessment of him is sobering: “Your sins are terrible. It is just that you suffer. Your life could be redeemed, but I know you don’t believe that. You will not change.” Still, Lamberto grants him absolution. He has hope, no matter how remote, that Michael may still be saved.
But Michael remains his own greatest obstacle, choosing his own way even if it leads to damnation. He cannot imagine redemption because that would mean admitting his dependence on God and other people. He could take a lesson from Lamberto’s lament about the men of Europe: “For centuries they have been surrounded by Christianity, but Christ has not penetrated. Christ doesn’t live within them.” That is a perfect summation of Michael, a man whose life is bound up in the aesthetics of Catholicism but completely untethered from its message. In the end, Michael’s faith is just one more expensive suit to wear; the only god he truly worships is power.
He makes one honest attempt at reconciliation with his ex-wife Kay (Diane Keaton), a woman who more than anyone knows how far he has fallen. When he asks for her forgiveness, she responds: “Like God, huh?”
“I need something a little closer,” Michael says.
He’s given up on the possibility of salvation in the next life, but with Kay perhaps he has a slim hope for salvation in this life, a chance to heal the family he tore apart. Kay is unable to offer that forgiveness in the moment: The wounds are too deep, the gulf between who they were and who they are too wide. Still, you sense that the door is still ajar. Maybe, with time, reconciliation would be possible.
But in the violent life of Michael Corleone, the future is never promised. He has always been a man convinced that he can shape the universe through the power of his own will. That is the fatal flaw that Lamberto sees in him: Michael cannot accept a higher power than himself. When he finally realizes that he has no more control over his fate—or the fates of those he loves—than the rest of us, it destroys him.
Michael realizes what’s really important, but only after it’s far too late.
“The Godfather: Part III” is streaming on Showtime.
