Wednesday, May 30, 2012

"Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."


Rereading The Godfather, or watching The Godfather Parts I & II (but never Part III) is like going back home to have an old-fashioned family visit . . . that is, if your family sprinkles their sentences with words such as pezznovante, cazzo and sta'zitt', and if they have a taste for wine and the thrill of the crime.  Hey, ya gots to make a living, right, mi' amico?

Mario Puzo, the brains behind the typewriter, wrote the bestselling novel of the Corleone family back in 1969.  A later Puzo novel, The Sicilian, used Michael Corleone as a secondary character, and is only minutely related to the Godfather story.  Puzo wrote three produced screenplays based on The Godfather and its characters: Parts I & II, clearly and stylishly based on his original novel, and the forgettable Part III, an original story concocted by Puzo in tandem with filmmaker Francis Ford Coppolla.

The less said about that one, the better.

After Puzo died in 1999, his estate authorized two new and original novels that primarily took place in the years immediately after Part II, The Godfather Returns and The Godfather's Revenge, both by Michael Winegardner.  Despite Winegardner's skills as a writer and novelist, these were lackluster sequels at best, as he concentrated on secondary and minor characters from Puzo's works, plus a main character of his own creation.  There was little familiar in these books, and Michael Corleone was used sparingly and inefficiently.  Returns was so dull and leaden, I didn't even bother to read Revenge, because it was mostly the concluding story of the author's new character.

I just didn't care.

He wasn't la nostra famiglia, caspisce?

However, when he died, Puzo left behind an unproduced screenplay: The Family Corleone.  And now the Puzo family offers up a novelization of at least a portion of that screenplay, written by Ed Falco.

Seriously, this story should have been Godfather III.


The Family Corleone takes place between 1933 and 1935, years from which we previously knew little or nothing about Vito Corleone.  This novel details Don Vito's first war with the other regimes -- referenced in Part I with Clemenza's line to Michael: "Probably all the other Families will line up against us. That's all right -- this thing's gotta happen every five years or so -- ten years -- helps to get rid of the bad blood.  Been ten years since the last one."

The secondary plots revolve around Sonny and his teenage pals from an Irish gang, and how Santino Corleone, at 18, made his bones and joined his Don's Family; and the story of Luca Brasi's psychopathic rise, suicidal fall, and his acceptance into the Family as perhaps its most lapdog-like, yet most murderous button.

Ed Falco is a decent writer, and here his prose is highly reminiscent of Puzo's: serviceable, devoted to storytelling; plain and simple.  His writing is as rustic as the sunburnt Sicilian landscape.


But with the Godfather legacy, writing, or prose, simply isn't as important as story.  If the critical success of Part II proved anything, it's that the backstory, like all family stories, of times long gone, of adventures long past, is just as important as the present action -- and it must lay the foundation for future tales and legends.  The Family Corleone nicely fills in some gaps from the previous chapters, for instance, with its elaboration of the character of Genco Abbandando, who Vito Corleone's legitimate olive oil is business is named for . . . but who was he?  What did he ever have to do with the Corleones?  There were hints about Genco in Part II, and a deleted scene available on the remastered DVDs, but Falco fills out Puzo's background expertly.  As to Michael, who in the mid-1940s becomes the new Godfather after the bullet-ridden murder of Sonny, the heir apparent, he is present only as a young teenager, reading American history books under the covers while Fredo taunts him about his book-learning.  Michael soon gets an early civics lesson that will eventually influence his thinking as the new Don.


If there's any problem with this book, it may have also been a problem with the screenplay, and how much they both dwell on the doings of New York's rival Irish gang and their haphazard, amateur war with the Italian mob.  Soon, the scenes away from the Corleones become tiresome, and the characters forgettable.  If there's a lesson to be learned from The Godfather Returns, The Godfather's Revenge, and the film, Part III, it's to STAY WITH THE CORLEONES.  No Vatican intrigue, no unheard-of or original characters, and do nothing that pulls our attention away from the Family.


Seriously, 'fancul.'

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Lord of the Undead

The most popular image is not necessarily the best.


Boris Karloff's portrayal of The Monster is arguably the first and strongest image that springs to the collective mind when the word Frankenstein is spoken; yet there have been other visions of The Monster, such as Bernie Wrightson's: beloved by comic art fans because of the artist's intricate line work, shadow play and evocative stylistics--yet the masses are barely aware of his arguably finer version of Mary Shelley's creature.


Most people are familiar with Conan (not O'Brien) because of Ahnold Schwarzenegger.


But Conan the Barbarian never would have been produced in the early '80s if writer Roy Thomas had not started adapting Robert E. Howard's Conan stories for Marvel Comics in the early '70s.  The most popular version of Conan was that drawn by veteran comics artist John Buscema.

Musclebound, gorilla-like, savage, and certainly primitive.  But this vision of Conan, the one that found mass popularity around the world, was not the Conan of the first, classic issues.


This first issue was an artistic anomaly.  Artist Barry Smith was heavily inked to make his illustrative style more like Jack Kirby--more Marvelesque.  The right inker was quickly matched with Smith's pseudo-antique style, and Barry Windsor Smith's Conan exploded into the public consciousness.




By Crom!  Isn't his black and white work simply amazing?

Ultimately, Smith's Conan is the consummate Conan.

Unfortunately, Buscema's Conan is the one people remember.



Now, let's talk about the prince of darkness, the king of the vampires, the lord of the undead.  No, not Rush Limbaugh.

Dracula.


Of course, Bela Lugosi immediately springs first to mind--it was his 1931 portrayal that solidified the image of the aristocratic Count as the typical, popularized vampire.  And each culture or generation has tried to make Dracula in its own image.

 Max Schreck, Nosferatu, 1922
In case you didn't know, this was the first--and completey unauthorized--adaptation of Dracula.

 Christopher Lee, Horror of Dracula, 1958
Primal bloodlust and eroticism at its finest.

 Frank Langella, Dracula, 1978
Disco hair.

 Gary Oldman, Francis Ford Coppolla's Dracula, 1992
My mind is still trying to grapple with Keanu Reeves's awful English accent.

Buffy met Dracula on TV in 1997.


For comic book fans, the single best version, as imagined by the late Gene Colan, Tomb of Dracula, 1970s


Lee's Dracula is far superior than others, to me, at least, because of the sheer ferocity of his portrayal.  The imagery of the Hammer Dracula embodies blood and violence and sexuality in ways that would best be explored in a doctoral thesis.  Nevertheless, each version of Dracula captures the imagination of many . . . but it's Lugosi's image that the world still remembers most (even though the 1931 version may possibly be the dullest version ever made.  Sorry, purists).


Besides being popular and beloved fictional characters, Conan and Dracula now have something else in common.  New illustrated versions of their stories are currently being published, both drawn by a relative newcomer to illustration and comic art, but one whose artistic voice is essentially 21st century in style, yet as evocative and inspiring as Barry Smith's Conan and Gene Colan's Dracula (and let's include Berni Wrightson's Frankenstein, as well).

The illustrator is Becky Cloonan, and you can see for yourself at her website and in these few samples that her artistic vision is uniquely contemporary, yet she captures the timeless essence of the stories she transforms.

 Conan

 Cover of Conan: Queen of the Black Coast

The queen of the Black Coast, Belit


Dracula just came out in hardcover, and its illustrations are, perhaps, the best I've ever seen in any edition, combining the color and sensuality of a Hammer production with the gentility of Victorian romance and gothic mystery.

 Publicity poster

 The brides of Dracula


I urge you to buy these books and love them, especially Dracula.  The story is as wonderful today as it was when it was published in 1897--and this edition is magnificent in terms of Cloonan's illustrations and Iris Shih's book design.

Becky Cloonan is one of today's best.


Get Becky Cloonan's Dracula.
Get Bernie Wrightson's Frankenstein.
Get Becky Cloonan's
Conan comic books at Stories Comics.