1.
I needed to revise my estimate of the timeline. The time may
have only run into the 50s. My reading of Johnny Fontaine’s aging and the
passing of years for other characters skewed my estimate. Michael has come from
the war (1945?). Michael has to avenge his father’s shooting (1946?). Michael
lives in Sicily (1947?). Michael returns home quietly (Kay has been teaching
several years—two or three? 1948-1949?). They marry and have two kids
(1950-1951?). They wait two to four years to be able to move to Las Vegas (1952-1955?).
They become godfather and kill Carlo and years later after Connie recovers, she
remarries happily (1952-1958?).
These are ballpark figures. Perhaps a safer range is
anywhere within the Fifties, so five to fifteen years of elapsed time (neglecting flashbacks).
2.
My rereading of Lucy Mancini, Sonny’s mistress, and Jules, the
doctor, lowered my estimate of certain sections. It is sensational—there largely
to titillate, excite, and stir controversy—but possibly also to pass on
auctorial philosophy about how the world should work.
All deconstructions are problematic. They pretend to read
the minds of a person, which is, at present, impossible. People pretend deconstructions
deliver facts, but they do not. They suggest, and suggestions can be wrong.
Plus, not everyone is equally good at it. Therefore, treating deconstructions
as facts is like building sandcastles on the beach, which are impressive until the tide comes in.
Nonetheless, I strongly suspect Jules speaks for the author.
Why? The doctor is an authority of the body, of science, and of the material
world that impacts us humans. We have a name for that: “The White-Coat Syndrome”
wherein we automatically loan our trust to doctors. Moreover, the doctor turns
out to be right about love for this woman, her malformation, and the vocal
chords of Fontaine. Lastly, apart from losing his job as an abortionist (which
paradoxically lends him credibility every time he speaks—so that the “bad”
thing is actually a “good”), nothing ever goes against the man. Therefore, we readers
are expected to trust this man and what he has to say.
Jules does a lot of opining about how the world should work—thoughts
that were sensational in their day and remain so to an extent. 1) He believes in
abortion (in part because), 2) he believes in a freer sexual society. For
instance, a man should make a pass at a woman (on a date?) or else she will not
feel appreciated. The book was published in 1969, so these would have generated sympathy with the
more liberal elements of the day.
Were other characters portrayed in so sympathetic a light? Vito
and Michael Corleone. Vito becomes a father not only to orphans but also to
everyone in his community, serving justice where it had failed in society. He
refuses to take more than “an eye for an eye.” He also refuses to peddle drugs—a
conviction that creates attempts at taking his life. Gambling, drinking,
whoring are acceptable vices, but illegal, addictive drugs go too far. Now
there is an attempt to justify the drugs by Barzini [the book’s villain]. When he states that African Americans should have drugs
peddled to them since they are animals anyway, this is not only to create
dislike of Barzini but also, by association, drugs as well. A conservative story element.
Also at stake in 1969 when the novel was published is military
service. The standard is to get one’s children out of service, which Vito
Corleone is willing to do (and presumably did for two of his other sons);
however, Michael chooses to serve and becomes a war hero. So we mix conservative
and liberal elements in this one.
Feminism is more complicated than it may at first appear.
Men are in charge and conduct violence against women. However, 1) it is a way
of life that both Vito and Michael are trying to get their families out of (into
the current power structure), 2) violence is strange and mostly pointed at men—strange
in that violence is seen as business until it isn’t business (yet every slight
is eventually accounted for in this system of justice, so in a sense it's always
business and always not business)—so Vito at first tolerates the violence and
presumably was waiting to see, to give time for the son-in-law to become a good
husband (after all, trusting emotions and rushing into action is what kills
Vito’s first son—presumably Vito’s justice would have been more of the eye-for-eye
strategy although he also wanted to preserve the family structure), 3) none of
the admirable men (the doctor, Vito, and Michael) conduct violence against
women, 4) Kay gets a degree and a job, 5) it is Kay who pursues Michael, 6)
only Kay can change Michael’s mind, and 7) Vito’s wife works behind Vito’s back
to bargain him into heaven (two things implicit here: 1) she has higher connections
than her husband, 2) she can do things that the Don may or may not want her to
do).
There’s the eighth aspect of her being at the epicenter of
the novel’s conclusion, but it’s problematic. She’d accepted his way of life
years before, so why does she need reassurance now? As I mentioned earlier, it
also doesn’t hit at the heart of the novel’s scope, either, but maybe that’s
too tall an order, given the massive scope. The movie’s solution, shrouding the
dealings in the mystery of closed doors, may be a stronger choice although
that, too, is problematic in its lack of realism.
3.
One strange mystery in The
Godfather is violence. Violence (and the threat of violence) is culturally curious
in the mafia way of life. It is the blood that courses through its arteries and
delivers nutrients to all the body. But the proper way to wage it, only the good
Dons like Vito and Michael Corleone know how to do. I don’t think how it works
is clearly delineated, much as the novel pretends it is. Why, for instance,
would someone assume that if someone lowers an offer, that a death threat is imminent?
Johnny Fontaine, however, remains a tantalizing intrigue,
especially in how he treats and is treated by his death-wish friend, Nino. They
provide a contrast of something I can’t quite put my finger on. One wants to
live and cannot while the other possibly could live but wants to die. One had
it all and had it temporarily taken from him; the other lived in comparative poverty
and belatedly is given advantages that could have been given earlier
but were delayed. I can’t find in the text now , but in a
moment of clarity, Fontaine realizes that their talents are similar, but Fontaine
got all the big breaks.
The text mentions that Fontaine got a woman that Nino did
not, which doesn’t quite feel right except as a miniature of the real deal.
Maybe it has to do with getting breaks early in life creates a sense of
entitlement, while getting the breaks late doesn’t help. Could that be? How does
that spring from the rest of the novel? Are these two a version of the contrast
between Michael and his brothers? The answer to that last would seem to be “No,”
but who knows? There’s a moment at the end of Fontaine’s POV where he
speculates simply that Nino had nothing to live for, but that doesn’t quite
complete the picture since it doesn’t answer “why.” Maybe it will come to me
later, or maybe this part of the story wasn’t fully developed.
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