The Godfather Journal

by Ira Zuckerman

  Unconfirmed reports from the teamster drivers assigned to The Godfather that Al Pacino has been signed for Michael. The drivers always seem to be the first ones to get the news; they quickly pass on the information they gather from conversations overheard in their cars. But there is another report that Dustin Hoffman is interested in playing Michael and that negotiations are already underway to sign him. Some of the company worked with Hoffman on Little Big Man and Who Is Harry Kellerman…? and are delighted by the prospect of working with Dusty again.

  Memos arrive almost daily from Peter Bart, vice-president of creative affairs for Paramount in Hollywood. The latest contains detailed comments on the most recent version of the screenplay. Another says that Paramount wants a GP rating for the completed film, which will necessitate changes in the script and/or cuts from the completed film.

  There has been trouble in connection with the location of the mall selected in Manhasset, Long Island. The township refuses permission for a set wall to be built around the property rented for filming, and a court injunction will be required if work is to be continued there. The town insists that the large wall be struck every night after the day’s filming, which, of course, means it would have to be reassembled every morning. The labor cost would be thousands of dollars, in addition to loss of valuable daylight shooting time. Michael Briggs, the Alfran location coordinator, has suddenly become aware of much anti-Godfather feeling in the area and is trying to discover the reasons for it. It is rumored that the Mafia is at work.

  MONDAY MARCH 1

  Variety reports, correctly, that Brando is working on The Godfather for expenses plus a deferred percentage of the gross receipts. Each week he receives a check from Paramount for $1,000, marked “living expenses.” Most of the above-the-line personnel who do not live in New York receive weekly “living-expense” checks, ranging from $1,500 for the director to $300 for the producer’s secretary. A player such as Robert Duvall commands $36,000 for eight weeks and will also receive $500 living expenses while on location in Las Vegas and Hollywood, plus two roundtrip plane tickets between New York and California. His contract also stipulates that transportation by limousine must be provided from his hotel to the studio or location each day he is called.

  TUESDAY MARCH 2

  Coppola is still revising the script, which as it stands would make a two-hour movie. Paramount wants a limit of one hour and 45 minutes. As he works, the director refers to a thick loose-leaf Director’s Notebook containing a detailed breakdown of each scene, next to its source in the novel pasted to each page. The margins are covered with notes and reminders in which he refers to other films (Bergman’s, Hitchcock’s and some of his own) concerning the treatment of certain moments or scenes. Coppola anticipates specific reactions of the audience to parts of the story and the way they are handled.

  Nancy Tonery (script girl) and Steve Skloot (2nd assistant director) started their full-time assignments on the film yesterday and now are in one of the production offices at Filmways, working with Kesten preparing the script for filming, i.e., breaking down scenes by number, interior/‌exterior, day/‌night, principals, number and type of extras, props, location/‌studio, etc. Each page is divided into eight sections so that a scene can be referred to as three-eighths of a page or seven-eighths of a page, to give a rough idea of how much time it requires for shooting and also to report to Paramount how much work has been accomplished each day.

  It looks as though the mall location on Long Island cannot be used. The concessions demanded by the local bureaucrats involve too much expense and trouble.

  WEDNESDAY MARCH 3

  Today is taken up by the preparation and filming of special effects, involving blood and bullet-holes bursting through clothing. Artificial blood of various consistencies is poured over a series of white shirts worn by a production assistant and also over his face and hair. For comparison, real blood from an animal is used, but it does not look as real as the liquid mixed by Dick Smith, makeup supervisor. Smith is considered tops in his field and recently appeared on The Dick Cavett Show, talking with Dustin Hoffman about the remarkable old-man makeup job he did on Dusty for Little Big Man.

  For the machine-gun wounds, packets of blood are concealed in the pants and jacket of a suit wired electrically to go off on cue. This is not a success. Shreds of the rubber prophylactics used to hold the blood hang from gaping holes in the suit, to the merriment of the crew.

  Nancy Tonery, who is making notes on each take, says under her breath, “I hope Caruso has some other special-effects men in mind to replace these—ones who know what they’re doing!”

  This is followed by a whispered conversation about getting some more experienced men from the coast who can properly set up all the bloody deaths and killings that are planned to be given the full treatment in The Godfather.

  THURSDAY MARCH 4

  Coppola paces furiously around his office, telephone in hand, gesturing in the air as he talks to Evans. He is hotly defending the latest version of his script. The director insists on retaining the Sicilian sequence and filming it on location.

  “Bob, the audience needs a change at that point from all the killing and violence. The change of locale gives a big additional production value to the film. I know it’s going to cost, but I feel it’s worth it.”

  And after a short pause: “No, shooting it in upstate New York isn’t the same thing.”

  Word has come that the Manhasset location is definitely out, and at once a frantic search begins for another site. This change of plan will cost the production about $100,000, but the cost of the Long Island site at the price of the concessions demanded would have been still higher.

  Sterling Hayden has been signed for the cameo role of Police Captain McClusky.

  Al Pacino has finally been decided on for Michael, but a conflict in his professional commitments has been discovered. He is under contract to MGM for a film scheduled to start shooting in May, but he will be needed on The Godfather until the middle of July at least. Paramount, MGM, and Pacino’s agent are trying to work out a solution.

  Coppola has been hoping for some real snow to provide background for the exterior Christmas scenes before spring arrives, and today a small snowstorm raises the possibility of shooting on very short notice before the official starting date. On the advice of Fred Caruso, production manager, it is decided against. The production departments would have great difficulty readying the required props, set dressings, costumes, period cars, etc.

  The Mayor’s office is very cooperative about making arrangements for street location filming. John Lindsay has set up a special department to handle filming problems in the hope of attracting more films to be shot in the city.

  An unidentified authority has ordered a copy of the script to be sent to Elia Kazan, and in no time there is talk around the office that Coppola may be replaced.

  FRIDAY MARCH 5

  A meeting of the staff and crew is called to plan a stand-by shooting schedule in case of a snowfall during the coming week. Because of the delay in finding a new mall site the start of filming has been postponed until the week of March 22, or possibly even the week after that.

  According to the present schedule, the deadline for the final release print is December 15. To speed things up, the film will be rough-cut by a group of editors as it is being shot. Aram Avakian, who directed Going Down the Road, has been put on the film as supervising editor and has been consulting frequently with Coppola about the script, for which he is making some of the revisions.

  MONDAY MARCH 8

  Preshooting rehearsals, which were to have begun today, have been postponed on account of Al Pacino’s still-unresolved contractual conflicts.

  The portable film studio that arrived Friday in the form of a Cinemobile van is now parked on the soundstage while the equipment it carries is serviced to go on location.

  A bright yellow snow machine, which looks something like the platform used in the moon landing, arrived from Boston today i
n case of no real snow. It will not work unless the temperature falls below 28 degrees.

  The snow machine is being tested on the street outside Filmways, and as members of the crew report for their 8 A.M. call they have to walk through a small snowstorm to get into the building.

  Brando’s personal makeup man, Phil Rhodes, arrives for his call at 9 A.M. to be on hand for the star’s makeup and costume tests scheduled for today.

  Downtown, when the teamster driver arrives at the Hotel Regency to pick Brando up for his call, he is handed a note from the desk clerk informing him that the actor has left word not to be disturbed until noon. The driver quickly phones the news to the studio and, after a quick conference of the production manager, producer and director, is told to follow the star’s directions. Someone remarks, “Brando’s just showing his muscle. Stars often do things like that to let you know from the start who’s boss.”

  Brando finally arrives at the studio at half past two and it is five o’clock before he appears on the soundstage in his old-age makeup and period costume. The change in his appearance is astonishing. A special mouthpiece built by Dick Smith causes Brando’s jaw to sag and his cheeks to puff out. His eyes droop at the corners, and his skin is covered by a fine network of wrinkles made of latex rubber. Even at close range the makeup cannot be detected. He also wears a 10-pound weight on each foot to slow his movements and, under his double-breasted gray suit, a padded false stomach. His hair has been dyed black, with gray around the temples.

  At Coppola’s request, tables have been set up with assorted props and food for Brando to experiment with during the tests, and recorded authentic Italian folk music is being played for atmosphere.

  Before the first take, Brando asks which lens is being used so that he will know just how much of his body is being filmed. As the camera turns he works with impressive intensity and concentration; he mumbles to himself as he goes through the actions of drinking wine, singing, peeling and eating oranges, and at one point asks for Sen-Sen, which must be sent out for.

  Between takes Brando relaxes and quietly kids with the crew but stays in character. He often asks for instructions to be repeated; the flesh-colored earplugs he wears on the set make it difficult for him to hear. When questioned about this, his attractive personal secretary, Alice Marshak, explains, “Marlon has always worn them while filming, ever since I’ve known him. He says they help him to concentrate by shutting out extraneous noise and make him listen more carefully to the actors he’s playing with.”

  The day’s work is completed at around 10 P.M., but because of the delayed start the crew must be paid in costly overtime.

  FRIDAY MARCH 12

  The commitment conflicts over Al Pacino have been resolved and the young actor is finally signed.

  Paramount has assigned their California head of production, Jack Ballard, to keep an eye on the day-to-day production planning, scheduling and shooting. He will report back to the studio every day. Ballard is a thin, energetic-looking man, whose shaven head gives him an ominous quality. He is usually dressed in casual golf-type clothing: knitted sport shirt and khaki pants. He is quiet-spoken in a steely way and remains in the background on the set or in the production offices, silently observing. His presence is resented and he is distrusted by most of the Alfran people, especially Coppola.

  TUESDAY MARCH 16

  Sterling Hayden walks into the back room of Patsy’s Restaurant, First Ave. and 116th Street, for the first rehearsal of The Godfather. Dressed in old trousers, sheepskin vest and Army-surplus shirt, the tall, craggy-faced actor looks as if he has just come from a camping trip in the woods. His handsomely wrinkled face has a ruddy tan, and he moves slowly and easily as he is introduced to other members of the cast.

  The actors (some of whom have just arrived from California) take their places around the long banquet tables set up for the rehearsal. Brando and Diane Keaton are absent, but Pacino is on hand and eager to begin. Coppola and his 1st A.D. are on edge because the first 21 pages of the revised script have been delayed, but word comes that they are on the way. Coppola decides to make the wait pleasant for the 30-odd people in the room by ordering trays of antipasto, bread and wine and caffee espresso.

  The rehearsal, scheduled for 2 P.M., begins at 3:45 with the arrival of the new section of the screenplay. The first reading goes badly, but the director does not seem to mind and makes no directorial comments to the actors. Most of the actors’ questions concern the pronunciation of the Italian names. The reading continues awkwardly because so many of the cast are missing and so many roles are still uncast. The noise from the bar at the front of the restaurant is a continued distraction.

  The afternoon seems to have been wasted, except that it has provided an opportunity for members of the cast to meet. (There is general disappointment that Brando is not here.) Many of these actors will not see each other during the course of the filming unless they happen to appear in the same scene.

  After a few closing announcements the rehearsal breaks, but Coppola stays on to talk to Avakian about further script changes that seem advisable in the light of the afternoon’s reading.

  WEDNESDAY MARCH 17

  At Stage 73 rehearsal studios, the elevator stops on the second floor to let in two young ballet dancers on their way to a rehearsal on the floor above. As the girls are about to enter they stop and stare in disbelief at one of the passengers facing them. He is casually dressed in an orange cashmere turtleneck sweater, a worn black velvet jacket and black pants. In his hand is a script of The Godfather. “Oh, my God!” gasps one of the girls, “It’s Marlon Brando!” The actor responds with a dazzling smile and gallantly makes way for the dancers.

  A few minutes later Brando enters a large room on the top floor of the building, which is used for theater, dance and television rehearsals. He quietly greets the small cast and crew called for this morning and goes to help himself to a cup of black coffee from the large urn on the table. He glances at the spread of pound cake, bagels and doughnuts, but decides he had better keep to his diet.

  Along one wall of the studio, set out on long tables, are guns, holsters, glasses, wine bottles, bowls of fruit, plates of bread and cheese, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes and newspapers for the actors to use as they choose.

  In these surroundings, far superior to yesterday’s, Coppola is eager to start the rehearsal, but Frank Puglia, who plays Bonasera, has not arrived. Kesten is very angry and snaps out orders to his assistants to track down the actor immediately. One man is sent to the street to watch for Puglia’s taxi; another is on the phone calling first his hotel, then Filmways, then Patsy’s. Puglia finally walks in an hour late, having been caught in the St. Patrick’s Day parade traffic.

  The rehearsal begins. Brando, Puglia, James Caan (who ended up being cast as the Godfather’s eldest son, Sonny) and Robert Duvall sit around on chairs that have been arranged to approximate the Godfather’s study in the opening scene, in which Bonasera has come to the Don to ask for help in avenging the beating and disfigurement of his daughter. Brando mumbles most of his lines inaudibly and rarely looks directly at Puglia. In contrast, Puglia, an old-time actor on the Italian stage and later in Hollywood films, reads with theatricality and fullness. Things move slowly, stopping often for long, intense discussions of character, motivation and action. The question most in dispute is how and when to reveal the evil side of the Don’s character. Coppola feels the audience must be made aware of it, to some extent at least, in the opening scene. Brando would conceal it until later on in the picture. They finally agree to leave the question undecided for the moment and go on to the next scene.

  Brando’s well-known acting voice—‌monotonous, high and nasal—is very different from his normal speaking voice. It is always a surprise to hear the distinct change when he shifts from one to the other.

  As the other actors are called upon to join in, they seem to take their cue from the star, reading offhandedly and underplaying. The only exception among them is cherubic-l
ooking Richard Castellano, who attacks his role with energy, humor and zest, always relating to the other actors and playing off them beautifully.

  Around one o’clock Al Ruddy and Gray Frederickson arrive to take Brando to lunch.

  Uptown, at Filmways, an elaborately catered party is getting underway in honor of St. Patrick’s Day. (Someone on the production staff named it an “ethnic festival.”) Film people from other production units in New York have been invited, along with Mayor Lindsay.

  In the afternoon, Aram Avakian appears at Stage 73 and as the actors rehearse he makes notes for further revisions in the script. Rehearsal is frequently interrupted by discussions between star and director. Brando seems to avoid going through the scenes in favor of long talks only indirectly related to the work at hand. Coppola presses him gently to continue with the script but makes little headway.

  At the end of the afternoon Coppola reminds those who are playing members of the immediate Corleone family that there is to be an evening rehearsal in the form of a dinner in the back door at Patsy’s. He wants to simulate the atmosphere of Italian family life, hoping thereby to establish some character relationships.

  FRIDAY MARCH 19

  Preshooting rehearsals continue at Stage 73. Coppola, Brando and Duvall hold long conversations about the nature of violence. Brando is still more interested in discussing than in going through the script. This avoidance of rehearsing is beginning to worry the director.

  MONDAY MARCH 22

  From the front page of The New York Times, March 20, 1971:

  “GODFATHER” FILM WON’T MENTION MAFIA

  By Grace Lichtenstein