The Godfather Journal Read online

  The Godfather Journal

  * * *

  Ira Zuckerman

  FOREWORD

  This journal was written from notes the author kept while working on the Paramount Pictures production of The Godfather as an assistant to the director, Francis Ford Coppola, on a grant from the American Film Institute.

  It is an attempt to capture the day-to-day, behind-the-scenes atmosphere of the making of a record-breaking, best-selling novel into a major motion picture. The account tries to reflect the excitement, humor, boredom, frustration, pressures and conflicts inevitably involved in such a large undertaking.

  I want to thank Kay Loveland, Jan Haag and Toni Vellani of the American Film Institute for their aid and encouragement while I was assigned to the film. I also want to thank Francis Coppola, and especially Mona Skager for her help and time.

  Ira Zuckerman

  WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 10, 1971

  Pertly dressed in a brown pantsuit, Mona Skager, secretary and gal Friday to Godfather director Francis Ford Coppola, sits at her desk, surrounded by piles of half-unpacked cardboard boxes, and speaks into a white telephone. “Francis leaves for London the day after tomorrow. He’s doing rewrites on the script there and meeting with Marlon Brando. Yes, Brando’s finishing up his role in The Nightcomers.”

  A thin rough-draft copy of The Godfather screenplay is on the desk beside her typewriter. It follows the novel closely, leaving out, however, many subplots not directly related to the main story. Most of the Johnny Fontaine incidents and the entire section about Lucy Mancini in Las Vegas have been cut.

  Shooting is scheduled to begin on March 1st, aiming toward a release date around the 15th of December, in time for Christmas. Already the production is behind schedule.

  Albert S. Ruddy sits in his private office, feet up on his desk, smoking a cigar as he talks on the phone. The tall and lanky Godfather producer is wearing a gray turtleneck sweater, blue double-breasted sport jacket, gray flared trousers and slip-on shoes from Gucci, the bootery most favored at the moment by the Hollywood crowd. He hangs up and turns to one of the art directors.

  “Look, don’t take Francis too literally. We don’t have the time and the money to get all the things he says he needs to make this film look good. He wants us to spend $5,000 to reconstruct that famous Camel smoke-ring sign on Broadway, which would end up on the screen for just a few seconds. Just do the best you can.”

  The temporary offices of Alfran Productions are in the new Gulf and Western Building just north of Columbus Circle. The Godfather, budgeted at five million dollars, is being produced by Alfran but financed by Paramount Pictures, which is a subsidiary of the giant conglomerate Gulf and Western Industries, Inc.

  Robert Evans, the head of worldwide production for Paramount, is himself overseeing the making of The Godfather, to the dismay of Alfran. Just now Evans is riding high on the record-breaking success of Love Story, which stars his wife, Ali MacGraw. His New York office is on another floor in the building. Evans was recently quoted in Variety as saying that many studios did not exercise enough control over their productions and that he would personally oversee every step in the making of his studio’s films. Many directors and independent producers, including Ruddy and Coppola, took offense at those remarks.

  The main office section of Alfran Productions is dominated by a large bulletin board covered with 8″-by-10″ newsphotos of gangland slayings and mobster funerals of the 1940s and 1950s. Scattered around in cardboard boxes and spilling over onto desks are piles of old copies of Life Magazine and photographs of New York streets and nightclubs, and even of furniture auctioned from the homes of famous racketeers. All this material has been studied by the set and costume designers, prop-master, hair and makeup artists, to help them to create the authentic look of the period on which Coppola insists.

  Prop-men are on the phones trying to line up a fleet of period cars, around 80 in all, including trucks, taxis, police cars and vans. Ads have been placed in newspapers, and the men are now following up the replies.

  The immediate business of the day is preparation for final screen tests scheduled for tomorrow. Xerox copies of the scenes to be used are run off and sent out by messenger or called for by those competing for the roles. One scene goes to an actor in a recently opened Broadway show and another to an actor in rehearsal for an off-Broadway revival.

  Francis Coppola has been out all day scouting locations on Long Island. The director arrives at the office around 6 P.M., dressed in a brown corduroy safari suit and brightly colored striped shirt and carrying a large green canvas saddlebag over his shoulder. Coppola, long-haired and bearded, is instantly besieged by questions, each needing an immediate decision.

  A handsome young Italian-looking actor, sent here by plane from California by his Hollywood agent, has been waiting most of the day for an interview with Coppola. He introduces himself and seems surprised to learn that the director is not expecting him, nor has he ever heard of him.

  “But my agent told me to get here as fast as I could! He said you’d be making final casting decisions and you wanted to see me right away.”

  The actor starts to get angry as Coppola tries to dismiss him quickly. When the director sees how upset the young man is he tries to calm him.

  “This sort of thing,” he explains, “happens all the time. Agents and actors think they can force me into seeing them just because they’ve come a long way. I used to be intimidated into giving in, but no more. I’m sorry. I’m not heartless, but I’ve given you enough time already.”

  He turns away and walks into his office, closing the door behind him.

  THURSDAY FEBRUARY 11

  The call for screen tests is at 8 A.M. at Producing Artists Studios, a large warehouselike building on West 59th Street, which is being rented for the day.

  Charlie Ryder, a cheerful, rotund Director’s Guild of America trainee, bustles about carrying a clipboard with a list of things to do for the day. He answers the ever-ringing phones, delivers messages and sends out for anything suddenly needed during the tests. He has worked on feature films before and needs only a few more days to qualify as a member of the DGA union. Ryder still retains the enthusiasm for the film business that many professionals lose after their first few pictures.

  For the test scene of Kay and Michael at the wedding, rehearsal furniture and props are set up—two chairs and a small round table with a bottle of wine and glasses. The male and female stand-ins for the day, required by union regulations, are seated at the table as Gordon Willis, director of photography, and his two assistant cameramen set up the camera and direct the lighting.

  Behind them, in the gloom of the area away from the camera lights, two sound technicians are arranging and testing their equipment as the soundstage starts filling up with additional technical crew, production personnel, casting agents, actors, friends, and hangers-on.

  Most of the actors to be tested today are comparatively unknown by Hollywood standards. Maria Tucci and Talia Shire are among those testing for the role of Connie Corleone. David Carradine, Al Pacino and James Caan are up for the part of Michael, youngest son of the Godfather.

  Dick Smith, in charge of makeup, and George Newman, wardrobe supervisor, are getting some of the actors ready in the dressing rooms.

  The first actor tested is James Caan, who has flown in from Chicago where he is filming T.R. Baskin with Candice Bergen. Caan is in Marine dress uniform and is to play the scene with Diane Keaton, a thin, vivacious actress, who at the moment is the leading contender for the part of Kay Adams, Michael’s girlfriend and, later, his wife.

  The slim, broad-shouldered actor is tense and nervous and in constant motion, joking and clowning with the director and crew. Coppola, und
er whom he has worked on The Rain People, tries without much success to make him feel at ease. Keaton sits hunched up, biting her nails, and stares in rapt concentration at the director. Then the two run through their lines once before the first take, and Coppola gives them a few instructions as he verbally sets the scene.

  Early into the first take, Caan blows his lines and Coppola calls “Cut!”

  “Let’s try it again.” The director gives the signal to start, 1st assistant director Steve Kesten calls “Roll it” and the camera and sound recorder turn. Nancy Tonery, the script supervisor, makes detailed notes on every shot and keeps asking Coppola which takes he wants printed or “put a hold on” for further consideration.

  Caan continues to be self-conscious and awkward, tending to improvise around the scripted lines. Coppola, who wants to give him every chance to do well, is indulgent and shoots the scene around 15 times, including one in which Caan is directed to forget the script and tell a joke to the group standing behind the camera.

  Afterward, as the actors go to the dressing rooms, Coppola tells Tonery which of the takes he wants printed. They will be screened tomorrow for Robert Evans at the executive screening room on the 30th floor of Gulf and Western, with Coppola, Ruddy, and associate producer Gray Frederickson in attendance.

  During a delay between tests, Ruddy is standing on the sidelines and talking about how he happened to be chosen to produce The Godfather.

  “This isn’t my kind of film, but after it’s finished it’s really going to give me some clout in this business. I personally like to do now and youth-market films like the ones Frederickson and I did before this—Big Fauss and Little Halsey and Making It. Not many independent producers would want to touch this one. Too much front-office studio interference. No, this one’s just to put us up on top in the industry and get backing for the kind of films we want to do.”

  It is plainly going to be a long day. Around 20 actors are scheduled to be tested and Coppola calls repeatedly for “just one more” take.

  During the filming a bell system warns people on and off the soundstage when the camera is rolling. Three bells mean total silence, no moving on the stage, no coming or going. At the same time, a red light just outside the doors leading to the stage warns those outside not to enter. Two bells mean rehearsal; quiet whispering and small movements are allowed and exits may be used. One bell sounds at the end of each take, signaling complete freedom of speech and action. But with so many people working and constantly going in and out the noise quickly builds and the 1st A.D. must shout “Quiet on the set” even when it is not “on bells.”

  In the middle of the afternoon, a flurry of activity precedes the appearance of Robert Evans and his entourage on the soundstage. He looks younger than his 40 years—small and slim, in a handsomely tailored blue blazer, gray flannel flared trousers, blue shirt and wide silk tie. He moves gracefully but in short spurts. His hair is modishly long and his lightly freckled face displays that special dusky California tan. The cigar he is smoking looks too large for his delicate hands and face.

  Evans greets Ruddy, Frederickson and Coppola warmly, but suddenly, after a few minutes’ discussion, he and the director are in a heated argument.

  Coppola shouts in desperation, “It’s out of my hands. I have no more time to spend on this. I’m flying to London Saturday. Let me know your decisions as who’s playing what when I get back. I wash my hands of the whole thing!”

  He runs out of the studio to the sidewalk, followed by some of his assistants. Evans remains on the stage in animated conference with his entourage. Al Ruddy hurries back and forth between the two camps, trying to smooth things out.

  The Godfather is the big one for Paramount this year. Much money and prestige are riding on it; therefore, all decisions are made with great pressure from the studio on Ruddy and Coppola, who are both young and have not reached positions of power in the industry. Coppola is 32 and Ruddy 36. During the blowup one senses that more is at stake than casting decisions; precedents are being set that will establish who has the real authority in making the picture.

  At last Ruddy has succeeded in peacemaking; Coppola returns to continue the tests and Evans leaves with his followers.

  Later in the day, word goes around that a company spy from Paramount has been assigned to The Godfather and is present among the many visitors in the studio.

  Charlie Ryder warns, “Be careful what you say in front of anyone who isn’t a regular on the production staff or the tech crew.”

  It looks as if the tests will go on at least until 1 A.M., causing the crew to go into penalties and triple time, according to union rules. Dinner arrives around 7 P.M., in the form of 12 giant pizzas and cartons of beer and soda. At 10, urns of hot soup arrive. Twice, production assistants have to be sent out for additional film stock and sound tape.

  At 11 that evening Coppola has called back Caan for a second set of tests. This time the actor works in his own clothes, as he had complained that the Marine uniform of the morning made him feel ill at ease. But now his acting seems even worse and it is hard to understand why Coppola continues to consider him for the role of Michael.

  Diane Keaton, who left earlier, spent most of the day shooting tests with the various candidates for Michael. Each time the camera rolled, incredibly, she performed as if for the first time, with charm, enthusiasm and presence. By the time she left the studio she had done the scene almost 200 times.

  The last two actors to be tested have been waiting in the reception area since 9 and 10 A.M., respectively, and it is now after midnight. Coppola has already decided on the cast he will fight for tomorrow, during the screening of the tests, and the long day has exhausted him. He leaves the stage after telling his 1st A.D. to run the last tests. Kesten directs five or six takes for each of the remaining actors and thanks them, with apologies for having kept them waiting. After they leave, he turns to the script girl and says wearily, “Don’t bother to print anything on those last two guys.”

  TUESDAY FEBRUARY 16

  Final casting for the crucial role of Michael is still up in the air. Coppola, in London for preliminary discussions with Brando, will fly from there to Rome to cast small roles for the Sicilian sequence to be filmed on location in July.

  The physical separation of Paramount executives in New York from those in California causes many decisions to be delayed; questions keep bouncing back and forth among Ruddy, Evans and Gulf and Western’s board chairman, Charlie Bluhdorn. In general the New Yorkers distrust their Hollywood counterparts, and repeatedly one hears, “Well, that’s how they do things on the coast.”

  The projected move of the Alfran offices from Gulf and Western to Filmways Studios has been postponed because the phones in the studio have not yet been connected. The wall-to-wall rental on the studios is $5,000 per week.

  In the screening room, Tony Bowers, a young assistant to the producer, is going through MGM stock footage of New York City in the 1940s to match car shots that will be filmed later. He is looking for a shot of a car driving under the Third Avenue El; when he finds one that looks good he makes a note of the car model and license-plate number so that an exact replica can be used for filming.

  Office memos announce that Diane Keaton has been signed for the role of Kay Adams and Robert Duvall for that of Tom Hagen, the Godfather’s adopted son.

  Pop singer Frankie Avalon drops by to talk to Ruddy about the possibility of his playing Johnny Fontaine.

  Later, during lunch break in the Gulf and Western cafeteria, Ruddy tells his associates that he is trying to persuade TWA to fly the cast and crew roundtrip to Sicily gratis, for the publicity.

  THURSDAY FEBRUARY 18

  Richard Castellano is signed for the role of Clemenza and John Marley (currently being seen on the screen in Paramount’s Love Story) for the small but important role of Hollywood studio head Jack Woltz. Still under consideration for various roles are John Ryan, Carmine Caridi and Robert Dinero.

  The telephones at Filmw
ays have been connected and the move is on.

  FRIDAY FEBRUARY 19

  Screening of costume and makeup tests scheduled for 2 P.M.

  Ruddy, Frederickson and Andrea Eastman, Paramount’s young and glamorous New York casting director, are in the producer’s office discussing actors’ contracts.

  Andrea says, “We probably couldn’t buy him for less than $750 a week.”

  Ruddy quickly replies, “Offer his agent three weeks at $500 per and see what he says.”

  They go down the list of roles still uncast and know just who has recently appeared in what and just how much he or she was paid for it. Salary ranges commanded by these talents are quoted, and during their conference the three are in constant telephone contact with agents in New York and Hollywood.

  Afterward, Ruddy arranges with an editor to lift some footage out of the screen tests so he can send it out to the coast for viewing by Paramount executives out there.

  MONDAY FEBRUARY 22

  Coppola, now casting in Rome, phones in daily for news of the latest production developments. He reports that young international actress Dominique Sanda is interested in playing Michael’s Sicilian wife and that he has lunched with Vittorio De Sica.

  Coppola’s sister, Talia Shire, has been signed to play Connie Corleone—her first film role. She was difficult to work with in her screen test and showed little acting ability. Mumbling among the production staff about nepotism.

  THURSDAY FEBRUARY 25

  Coppola arrives back from Europe today.

  Brando is passing through New York for the day en route to California for his son’s birthday and will return for makeup and costume tests.