And to the Republic For Which It Stands

I have been reading about Francis Ford Coppola's efforts to produce a science fiction extravaganza named Megalopolis for decades. So, when I heard filming had finally begun in 2022, I began to anticipate actually seeing Coppola’s vision on the screen. We have seen extraordinary metropolitan visions in silly films like The Fifth Element (1997) and Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom (1999). We have seen pensive and moody futurescapes in Blade Runner (1982) and Blade Runner 2049 (2017). We have sophisticated action pieces like Children of Men (2006). We have paranoid cautionary plots like Terry Gilliam’s 12 Monkeys (1995), and we have Gilliam’s Brazil (1985), defying categorization. At long last, Stanley Kubrick’s project A.I. (2001) was finished by Steven Spielberg two years after Kubrick’s death. What would Coppola’s long-gestating science fiction vision look like?

I did not anticipate it would be this claustrophobic. The camera lingers more on the geography of Adam Driver’s face than it does the urban planning of the future. When I hear “megalopolis,” I think of a string of metropoles stretching from New York City to Philadelphia to Boston. When I lived in New York, I would sometimes crane my head up and imagine standing on the corner of Broadway and 3^rd, but having to designate level A, B, C, or D because of multiple concourses. The vast cities of Fifth Element and the depiction of the city planet Coruscant in Phantom Menace attempted to capture this.

But not Coppola. His megalopolis is one of the mind; it is megalomania with which he wrestles. A world where “greed” is the invention of envious men failing in their efforts to control the ambitious. Above all, Megalopolis is structured as an epic, complete with invocation to the Muses. The Muse animating Megalopolis is the Muse of History, Clio, who Coppola cajoles into investing the characters and dialogue with resonant ideas and phrases from the ancient past. The terrain, though, is New York City, especially the pinnacle of the Chrysler Building. It also is a geography of the faces of the familiar actors Coppola has brought along to capture his vision…and of Aubrey Plaza’s seductive silhouette.

An Ancient Present

Megalopolis reflects the cyclical nature of civilizations, drawing parallels between ancient Rome and modern America. The film's ostensible setting, New Rome, is obviously New York City, complete with iconic landmarks like Madison Square Garden, the Chrysler Building, and the Statue of Liberty. At one point, Julia Cicero even mentions “Penn Station.”

This juxtaposition of ancient and modern evokes timelessness, allowing Coppola to explore universal themes of power, progress, and human nature.

The narrative centers around Cesar Catilina, played by Adam Driver, a visionary architect with dreams of building a utopian city: Megalopolis. Cesar embodies the tension between innovation and tradition as he grapples with the challenges of implementing his revolutionary ideas in a society resistant to change. His invitation to "Plough through the riches of my Emersonian mind" encapsulates the film's insistence to view history as a game of King of the Hill where the most expansive and inspiring ideas take their place – for their moment – atop the shining city upon a hill for all to see.

Archetypal Storytelling

Coppola's approach is courageous enough to break from the silly conventions as they have evolved of Hollywood storytelling with its eight-sequence narrative structure and naturalistic approach to characterization and plot. Coppola’s characters represent ideas that are aligned with human passions and impulses. The plot consciously evokes Shakespearian tradition (with Cesar quoting the Bard at length on two occasions, as if it is a tacit admission by Coppola: “I cannot write any better than Shakespeare, so think deeply on the meaning of the “To be or not to be” monologue). In this sense, the film bears more than a passing similarity to Larry David and Bob Dylan’s 2003 film Masked and Anonymous. The characters are archetypes with unnatural names (Wow Platinum, Bobby Cupid, Vesta Sweetwater, and Uncle Sweetheart certainly sound like they are names drawn from the same script, no?), the films depict society as it decays into violence and apocalypse; a deterioration that is well under way. The protagonists of each film are observers of this decay. A key difference, quite reflective of Coppola and Dylan’s psyches, is that Cesar Catalina is working to impose a higher vision to which society can aspire, whereas Jack Fate (Dylan’s character) is strictly an observer who deadpans his way through songs communicating his observations.

This unconventional approach allows for a deeper exploration of philosophical concepts, not only reminiscent of, but directly allusive to, the work of Shakespeare. Cesar's recitation of Shakespeare's works throughout the film serves as a nod to the enduring power of classic thought in addressing timeless human dilemmas. The film aspires to transcend the specifics of its setting and speak to universal human experiences and aspirations; the net result may be the humbler revelation of our society’s kinship with the foibles, flaws, and daring of the ancient world. Whether it be within a tunic or t-shirt, the human heart beats out the same rhythm in us all.

As a vehicle for archetypal ideas, Megalopolis (as well as Masked and Anonymous) falls well short of Shakespeare’s greatest work, which manages to express his philosophical musings and bloody passion with realistic characters operating within nuanced plots. But Megalopolis should also serve to remind us that Shakespeare did not always achieve this lofty goal. Many of his plots, like Megalopolis, are unreal and wonky. They are delightful to behold and read, but the assimilated norms of storytelling must be set aside in one’s efforts to suspend disbelief.

Time to Spare

Megalopolis grapples with the concept of time and its impact on human consciousness. The recurring theme of time-stopping abilities and narrator Fundi Romaine's assertion that "Time stops for nobody... and I mean nobody" underscore the film's preoccupation with temporality. This focus on time consciousness echoes philosophical inquiries into the nature of human perception and our relationship with the past, present, and future. By not delving into a sci-fi explanation of how Cesar learned to stop time, Coppola bestows an allegorical air upon this self-proclaimed “fable.” Art can stop time. Thought can stop time. Ecstasy and agony can stop time. The film expresses them all.

Philosophical Underpinnings

Megalopolis’s visual aesthetics play a crucial role in conveying its themes. The juxtaposition of futuristic elements with classical Roman imagery expresses a visual language that reinforces the narrative's exploration of societal evolution. The use of Megalon, a living building substance, as a metaphor for organic growth and adaptation is particularly striking.

The narrative around Megalopolis is often centered on the personal fortune that Francis Ford Coppola invested into the film, but this is a film that demands not only that we think, but it wants to penetrate our consciousness and prod us to build a better society for future generations. At one point Adam Driver deliberately holds a copy of Journey to Ixlan: The Lessons of Don Juan so that it is visible to the viewer. Coppola aspires to alter consciousness in a manner similar to Carlos Castaneda. “What if it’s our mind that can invent gods?” asks Cesar Catalina. After transformation through discipline, drugs, and sci-fi cybernetic wizardry, the film seems to assert such deification will occur. Megalopolis demands not only intellectual engagement from its audience but also seeks to alter consciousness in a manner reminiscent of Carlos Castaneda's writings.

The paradox at the heart of Megalopolis lies in its simultaneous critique and endorsement of the concept of philosopher-kings. The film denounces the kind of philosopher king rule that Plato proposes in The Republic while ultimately asserting the inevitability of such rule with Cesar, Julia, Mayor Cicero, Teresa Cicero, and Cesar and Julia’s new baby perched upon a glass dais elevated among the hoi polloi. We are invited to question governance, meritocracy, and the role of visionaries in shaping society. Do we want them up there while we goggle them from below, sharing the camera's subordinate perspective? Have they earned our respect enough to rule? Or, with Nobel Prize-winning inventions, time-stopping assertions of the will, and miraculous resurrections set aside, are we seeing another ambitious ego maniac with a wealthy uncle putting himself above others? Who do we want in office: rulers or leaders? Masters or servants?

A Phoenix from the Ashes

Cesar's journey throughout the film serves as a microcosm for the broader themes of societal transformation. His relationship with Julia Cicero, which leads to the return of his time-stopping abilities, symbolizes the power of human connection in driving progress. When Cesar tells Julia, "You're the driving force... my inspiration comes from you; my clarity comes from you," he acknowledges the collaborative nature of innovation and the importance of emotional bonds in fueling creativity.

The film's exploration of utopian ideals is tempered by an awareness of the potential pitfalls of such visions. The character of Mayor Franklyn Cicero, representing the established order, serves as a foil to Cesar's revolutionary ideas. This conflict between the old and the new, the practical and the idealistic, drives much of the narrative tension in Megalopolis.

Coppola's decision to include references to writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and philosophical concepts from various traditions demonstrates the film's intellectual breadth. The narrator's quotation of Emerson, "the human race will eventually die of civilization," encapsulates the film's critical examination of progress and its potential consequences.

The character of Vesta Sweetwater, with her "invisible dress" invented by Cesar, serves as a metaphor for the transformative power of technology and its ability to alter our perception of reality. Or more to the point, the power of technology to make bare before our eyes the truth: the virginal pop sensation is a non-entity, superficial, obvious. Science may advance, but the superficial will remain superficial, the hungry will remain hungry, the greedy will remain greedy, the lusty will remain lusty, and the dreamers will work to rise above such passions in their efforts to secure lasting glory.

Megalopolis depicts societal decay and the fall of a superpower, as evidenced by Hamilton Crassus III's declaration that "America, the master of the known world, is now kaput." This sentiment reflects a broader cultural anxiety about the decline of empires and the cyclical nature of civilizations. By drawing parallels between ancient Rome and contemporary America, Coppola invites viewers to consider the lessons of history and their relevance to our current moment.

Megalomania

The film's treatment of power dynamics resonates in a world presently shaken by visionaries and disruptors. Cesar's assertion, "For it is in the power of any daring man to overturn a sickly commonwealth" speaks to the potential for individuals to effect radical change in times of societal upheaval. The daring quality of such a person appears to lie in their courage to overcome the death drive at work in others. Cesar declares, "When we leap into the unknowing, we prove that we are free," reflecting his belief that vision and risk-taking will lead one to ask the right questions; and it is the asking of such questions upon which true civilization is built.

Those questions involve our understanding of history and vision of the future. Julia describes Cesar as a "Man of the future so obsessed by the past, which is more important than ever before," highlighting a temporal braid of past, present, and future that she believes is the basis for innovation. I probably don’t need to repeat here the old adage about those ignorant of the past and the future to which they are condemned.

The film's treatment of debt and financial systems, as evidenced by Cesar's exhortation to "Turn down debt," touches on contemporary economic concerns. This element of the narrative connects the abstract philosophical concepts explored in the film to tangible societal issues.

To Sing of a Closing of One World and the Dawn of Another

Megalopolis stands as a courageous and intellectually ambitious work that challenges viewers to engage with complex ideas about society, progress, and human potential rarely addressed in mainstream cinema; in provoking this quality of thought, inspiring debate, and depicting imagined alternative futures, Coppola's work stands out as a bold statement about the potential of cinema to engage with the most pressing questions of our time. As society grapples with unprecedented challenges and rapid technological change, the themes explored in Megalopolis are increasingly relevant.

Ultimately, the film invites us to consider our role in shaping the future and the responsibility that comes with visionary thinking. The figures on the glass dais at the film’s conclusion, are they Dylan’s “superhuman crew” (“Desolation Row”), coming down from their castle to exploit the workers? Are they “Einstein disguised as Robin Hood?” working for the good of the people? Are they neither, serving themselves like “Dr. Filth” whose world is “locked in a leather cup?” How we answer may differ, but the film challenges us to look beyond the immediate and consider the long-term consequences of the actions and aspirations of ourselves and those around us. In so doing, Megalopolis invokes Clio to inspire reflection, foster dialogue, and encourage the imagination of a better world from our Megalon-like ruins of history.