“Megalopolis”

Around the 90 minute mark, well after I realized I had already wasted over an hour of my life watching legendary writer / director Francis Ford Coppola‘s self-financed passion project “Megalopolis,” a character muses that there are two things impossible to stare at for too long: “the sun and your own soul.” I’d like to add a third: this trainwreck of a movie. It’s not a “so bad it’s good” situation, and anyone who willingly sits through the entire thing because they want to and not because they have to deserves a medal for their stamina.

In a sprawling, rambling, outrageous epic, Coppola brings his visions of grandeur to the screen with almost zero success. The film tells the story of architect Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver) and his ambitious utopian project called “New Rome.” Catilina wants to build the perfect city using the newly discovered miracle material Megalon. This pits him against the city’s current mayor, Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), a staunch conservative who is vehemently opposed to Catilina’s radical ideas. Tensions are high and things are further complicated by Cicero’s spoiled adult children (Shia LaBeouf, Chloe Fineman), the romantic relationship between his daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel) and Catilina, Caesar’s wealthy banker uncle Hamilton Crassus III (Jon Voight), and an overly ambitious television reporter Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza) who wants to control all the money and power in the city.

Coppolla’s story attempts to draw parallels between the fall of Rome and the future of the United States, but his messaging is messy. It certainly is ambitious, exploring big ideas about genius, power, and the fragility of empires, but the blend of political drama, philosophical science fiction, and romance is a tangled disaster. Coppola struggles mightily to find coherence in his storytelling.

The film’s musings on power and corruption are overshadowed by overwrought, clunky dialogue and downright bizarre performances. Driver, a usually reliable actor, delivers a performance that veers wildly between earnest and unintentionally funny. His character’s tortured genius is undermined by some truly cringe-worthy scenes (one instance where he repeatedly screams “no, no, nooooooo!” is one of the worst offenders).

Plaza and Voight chew the scenery too, and Emmanuel’s accent work here is so bad it’s unacceptable. Despite playing a wildly eccentric character, LaBeouf fares better and offers the most grounded performance, but even his efforts can’t save the film. I find it not only difficult but actually impossible to believe that the entire cast of actors isn’t embarrassed by their involvement in this movie. The writing is so bad – so bad – that it makes all the actors look bad, too. (I’m talking to you, too, Laurence Fishburne, and your voiceover delivery of abysmally-written narration).

The film gets even weirder with random psychedelic and sci-fi moments, and Coppola isn’t subtle with his messaging. The story is filled with heavy-handed metaphors that leave little to the imagination, and Coppola’s attempt to comment on modern society’s obsession with greed is too blunt and at times, openly condescending. Instead of provoking thought and discussion, it comes off as forced, preachy, and out of touch. It’s not that I didn’t “get it,” it’s that Coppolla beats audiences over the head with ideas that feel simultaneously modern yet outdated. The fact that Coppolla calls this disaster a “prescient Modern American epic” shows just how full of himself he really is. This film simply is not as profoundly important as he thinks it is, either.

In case you haven’t gotten the message by now, let me assure you that no matter how low your expectations, you aren’t prepared for how truly bad this movie is. There are many scenes that are clearly not intended to be funny, yet caused my stifled snickers to burst forth as a roar of laughter. The best part of the film is a tie: either a scene where a bruised and bloodied Driver sings opera in his underwear, or the one where Elvis shows up holding an American flag. That’s how weird this movie is.

“Megalopolis” is a film that will undoubtedly be talked about, but not for the reasons Coppola might have hoped. His visionary ambition is overshadowed by poor writing and incoherent execution, and instead of delivering a modern epic, Coppola has crafted a cinematic misfire that is more exhausting than exhilarating. For those willing to bravely stick it out, the reward is witnessing one of the most baffling films of the year — although you will regret not walking out long before the credits roll.

By: Louisa Moore