Megalopolis. It’s the movie that just won’t die. Whatever one’s take on it upon release, and the takes were legion, Francis Ford Coppola has kept it on our minds via his well-publicized roadshow and sharp social media instincts. What better way to consummate its astonishing longevity than a documentary about its creation not-so-surreptitiously timed to the one-year anniversary of its release? A director’s job, after all, is at least 50% showmanship. The other 50% is a mean concoction of self-aggrandizement, uncompromising vision, and mismatched socks. At least, that’s what emerges from Mike Figgis’s exceptionally watchable MegaDoc, shot concurrently with Coppola’s polarizing passion project.
Figgis no doubt admires Coppola, but he’s also unafraid of depicting the vanguard director as moody and mercurial. As a result, MegaDoc resists the easy impulse toward adulation — it’s more in love with the filmmaking process than the filmmaker himself. While far from the vérité approach Jonas Mekas took shooting Martin Scorsese at work on The Departed, Figgis flits around the set with no rigid sense of hierarchy; producers, production designers, wardrobe artists, and choreographers all get a chance to speak their piece. In making room for multifarious voices, Figgis gives us a strong nuts-and-bolts look into what it takes to make a movie in the 21st century. It’s not just below-the-line personnel, either: Figgis, being a director of features himself — he goes out of his way to remind us of this — places particular emphasis on the actors, and it’s amazing to see performers work with a director they really admire. Jon Voight puts eyes on Coppola with a look of sincere delight during rehearsals; Shia LaBeouf, despite his antagonistic posturing, clearly loves duking it out with the big man; Aubrey Plaza’s biting millennial irony in front of the camera productively rubs up against Coppola’s boomer optimism behind it; Giancarlo Esposito approaches the chaos unfolding on set in stride, merely happy to be working with someone who’s passionate about his work. Contrary to what one might expect of Coppola considering his domineering personality, he encourages different approaches to the craft of moviemaking, and Figgis’ documentary reflects that.
If there’s an Achilles’ heel to Figgis’ approach, well… it’s Figgis. Early on, the director inserts himself into the documentary to give it some shape. It’s fine to admit subjectivity, but from here he continues to hold our hands throughout the film, and his diary entries become frustratingly pedantic. He’ll complain about how difficult it is to get an interview with Adam Driver or about how Nathalie Emmanuel doesn’t like to be filmed eating. It’s far from fatal to his overall project, but Figgis’ problems, suffice it to say, aren’t even remotely as compelling as Coppola’s.
But these asides occur infrequently enough not to derail the big picture. Usually, Figgis follows the advice Eleanor Coppola gives him at the beginning of the film, chasing after what he finds interesting and keeping himself clear of the fray as Francis attempts to create some of the most ambitious images of the digital age. In keeping with the nuts-and-bolts approach, and rare for a showbiz doc, Figgis offers a glimpse into how much Megalopolis cost to make. He breaks down budget allocations with on-screen superimpositions — $3 million for hair and makeup, $7 million for wardrobe, $27 million for production design; the numbers keep coming, and they keep climbing higher and higher.
Noticeably, Figgis makes the decision to snap ahead from the early days of the production to the beginning of its second month. Visual effects artists and production designers have departed and, depending on one’s stomach for schadenfreude, it can be rather thrilling to watch the cast and crew grow restless at Coppola’s obstreperous nature as the shoot marches on. A few, like Dustin Hoffman, try to armchair psychoanalyze him. Others, like George Lucas — unrelated to the production, but gracious enough to talk to Figgis from a safe distance in Marin County — try softening Coppola’s obstinance with kind words about his creative aplomb.
Yet the most revealing moments arise not in interviews, but when the camera is trained on Coppola at a distance, almost taking the posture of a nature documentary. The most startling shot in the entire film is a quick one: Figgis steals a peak at Coppola as he watches Adam Driver deliver Megalopolis’s big speech. Coppola is in awe. “Bravo,” he says. “The human being is that. Goddammit.” The lion has captured his prey — it’s a genuinely intimate insight into Coppola’s mind and process.
MegaDoc functions as a bit of a Rorschach test for cinephiles: for some, it will embolden their belief that Megalopolis was a runaway train from the beginning. For others, it will be further evidence that great art — challenging art — requires a pound or two of flesh. MegaDoc won’t be the final word on Megalopolis, but it will invite more conversation. If nothing else, that’s certainly in keeping with the Megalopolis ethos.
DIRECTOR: Mike Figgis; CAST: Francis Ford Coppola, Eleanor Coppola; DISTRIBUTOR: Utopia; IN THEATERS: September 19; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 47 min.
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