Francis Ford Coppola Receives the 50th AFI Life Achievement Award
Freeman received the 2011 AFI Life Achievement Award — which first honored John Ford upon its creation in 1973."When he was just 33, he produced a little film called American Graffiti — for me, that was the film that I acted in between Opie and Richie," said Howard, who recalled how the studio protested that the film was too long and unprofessional. "The film went on to take in well over 100 million dollars — which at the time, made it the most profitable ROI in Hollywood history. So that's a producer, and that's Francis Ford Coppola."Video clips also showed montages of Coppola's famed films, which he discusses during pre-taped interviews with his daughter, Oscar-winning filmmaker Sofia Coppola. During a look at The Godfather, Coppola says, "There's two factors that make actors very good. One is extreme intelligence, and the other is a natural, God-given talent. Pacino has both."
After that, Pacino took the stage with De Niro. "This is a quote from Francis Ford Coppola: 'The things you do when you're young that you get fired for are the same things that years later, they give you lifetime achievement awards,'" Pacino said, noting how how many of them were almost fired from The Godfather. "I got the closest, and Francis just fought for us, all the time. He fought for his film and his vision. Yet, it could have gotten him fired — every day."Pacino added, "Thanks for believing in me, even more than I believed in myself. I'm eternally grateful and honored to be part of your Godfather family." "Francis, thank you for not casting me in The Godfather," De Niro began. "It was the best job I ever never got. And it meant I was available for The Godfather Part II. Francis, you changed my career, you changed my life. We're all here tonight because of you. We love you."
Ford spoke of how he started out as a carpenter. "But I was determined to be an actor. And then I got lucky ... I landed a role in American Graffiti. And I didn't know then but I know it now — that's when I got made. I became a part of 'the family.' He'd just made a little movie called The Godfather, and he put me in his next film, called The Conversation. I didn't get the part I wanted; but I got a part." Ford went on: "After the film, I literally built something for Francis, because he hired me again as a carpenter. You likely know the story — George Lucas walks in one morning looking for Hans Solo, and I'm covered with sawdust wearing my tool belt, sweeping the floor. But the point is, that I'm here tonight because of the community Francis nurtured." After clips from 1993's The Outsiders, Macchio and Howell took the stage. "You look great!" Macchio said. "Coming from a man who doesn't age, I will accept that," Howell responded. "I'm sure there's a few of you wondering, 'When the hell did Ponyboy turn into Sam Elliott?'"
"We're here tonight to represent the Greasers," Macchio said. "We are here to say, on behalf of young actors everywhere, thank you, Francis, for believing in untested talent. You took a chance with a bunch of nobodies who became somebodies.""Who better to make a film about "the outsiders" than the outsider himself?" Howell said, before Macchio revealed that, as an exercise in class differences, back then, Coppola asked him to try to live on five dollars. Macchio told Coppola now that he'd put five dollars underneath the table centerpiece for him — as a symbol of his gratitude. (Coppola took it out and passed it on to Lucas.)Also present was the librarian from Fresno who'd written a letter to Coppola telling him how popular the book was among her students. "Stay gold, Francis," the woman, Jo Ellen, said upon being handed a mike.
The Outsiders' Diane Lane also reminisced. "While filming The Outsiders, we had Sundays off," she said. "But Francis and S.E. Hinton would use their Sundays in cahoots, writing a screenplay from her book Rumble Fish. There's no such thing as a day off for Francis. Finishing The Outsiders, Francis said let's keep going — let's use the same crew and the actors, and make another movie. And we did." 'And did I mention the pasta?" Lane said. "On special occasions, red and white table cloths, we'd all shamelessly vie for Francis's pasta — which was, and always will be, the best. You get the picture? It was a family and he was our papa.'His son Roman shared how Coppola gave him his start, with Bram Stoker's Dracula. He also shared his father's filmmaking tips: to create sensual experiences with the actors by bringing food and music; to sit right next to the camera so the actors feel like they're performing just for you. "He said that he doesn't feel he has any particular extraordinary talent," Roman said, "but he makes up for it by being willing to work relentlessly and keep putting effort in, despite whatever hardship."Dustin Hoffman then got up, and unraveled a piece of paper. "Francis, where are you?" Hoffman asked, grinning. 'Word has it that you've turned down a lot of these awards in the past, so thank you for accepting this tribute from the American Film Institute and for allowing those of us who've admired you for so long to gather and formally honor you.'Hoffman continued: 'You are what actors call an 'actor's director.' Having launched the careers of so many incredible actors, you not only saw their potential — you fought for them. You fought, fought, fought, fought for them. And it was early in your career when one's career depends on every choice you make that day. You did this at a time when you had no clout, just hutzpah, and taste and foresight. Where the studio wanted stars, you fought for actors. You fought for a young Al Pacino, a young Diane Keaton, a young Talia Shire, James Caan, and of course, in his very first movie, John Cazale, in one of the most memorable moments in film history. You took a chance on Diane Lane, on Nicholas Cage and the barely-known Laurence Fishburne, who was just 14 when he stepped onto the set of Apocalypse Now."Hoffman quipped, 'You gave the chance of a lifetime to so many young actors. Unfortunately, you waited until I was 86 to cast me in Megalopolis. It was well worth the wait.'Hoffman's Megalopolis co-star Driver followed him, calling Coppola "a theater director who brought his process to film and revolutionized how we think about cinema." Driver learned the best piece of direction he ever heard on that film: "Francis said to the room, 'We're not being brave enough.'"
Driver noted how Coppola had been trying to make it for over 45 years, and was spending $120 million of his own money to make it. "I'm mad if I spend $5 on a cup of coffee, and it's not hot enough!""You can take any section of Francis' work, open it up and find bravery," he continued. "This is a principled life, and for a year in our culture when the importance of the arts is minimized, and our industry is seemingly out in the open, that the only metric to judge a film's success is by how much money it makes — I hang on to individuals like Francis for inspiration, who live through their convictions, through big moves, all in service of pushing the medium forward.'
Coppola's granddaughter Gia also chimed in. "You've gotten a lot of achievements for your work — and you deserve all of them, and more," she said. "I think what attributes to all of this is because you're a great friend." After an orchestra set up on the stage, Josh Groban took the stage and performed a powerful rendition of "Brucia La Terra" from The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone.
"I didn't get accepted to AFI; I had an internship at Columbia Pictures," said Spike Lee. "That Friday in August, when Apocalypse opened, I was the first in line ... I still have my ticket stub. And that fucked me up! These helicopters! And then, later on, Laurence Fishburne told me he called you, 'The Father of Cinema.' ... You screened the uncut version of The Cotton Club for me. Thank you, Francis." Spielberg, recipient of the 23rd AFI Life Achievement Award, came up to honor Coppola's command "of this medium called film." "What I known about you — and I've known it since we first met in 1967, is that you are fearless," Spielberg said. "On one hand, you are a warrior for independent artists — you always champion their causes — but you're fearless in how open you are to opinions, ideas and inspiration."Spielberg recalled watching an early cut of Apocalypse Now — which was five hours long — after which, Coppola invited feedback from his peers. "I sat there in awe learning that leaving yourself open and searching was in fact your superpower.""That is what creates great films like The Conversation," Spielberg continued, "and The Godfather, which for me, is the greatest American film ever made."The camera cut to a shot of Coppola covering his face and then raising his eyebrows. "You have taken what came before and redefined the canon of American film, and in so doing, you've inspired a generation of storytellers who want to make you proud of your work ... and I always want to make you proud of my work. Thank you, Francis."
George Lucas, recipient of the 33rd AFI Life Achievement Award, said reporters kept asking him what he learned from Francis. "Well, he used to call me an 80-year-old kid when I as like, 22, and he taught me, 'Don't be afraid of jumping off cliffs.' And I've lived with that the rest of my life," Lucas said. "You're our hero, Francis — the first university cinema student to make it in the industry. ... You rounded up a bunch of young film students, gathered us together, we moved to San Francisco hoping to beat the system, and we did."Lucas continued: "We had no rules; we wrote them, and you [were] holding the pen. Thank you for creating an era of filmmakers who loved the movies." He then presented Coppola with the award.Coppola received a standing ovation as he came up to the stage. "Thank you so much — this obviously doesn't happen every day," he began. "I feel as if, after many years, I've returned to the old neighborhood where I grew up. And everything around me is so familiar, and yet, it's all changed."He went on: "There's a stoop where my family used to sit on hot summer nights and drink beer. ... And all my uncles, my aunts, still here, out there — some giving me a welcome wave or blowing me a kiss, what a pull on my heart! Faces I knew and loved — some I feared, some helpful and encouraging, and those I felt wronged me — but they had their own reasons, and I forgive them one and all, because I've learned that the only person really impossible to forgive is yourself."
"And now I understand, here, this place that created me — my home isn't really a place at all, but new friends, colleagues, teachers, playmates, family, neighbors," Coppola concluded. "All the beautiful faces are welcoming me back, because I am and will always be nothing more than one of you. So thank you so much."As they left, guests received an exclusive AFI commemorative tribute book about Coppola's career. The gala raised $2.5 million to support educational programs at the American Film Institute, a nonprofit organization.The televised special, The AFI Achievement Award: A Tribute to Francis Ford Coppola, will premiere on TNT on June 18 at 10 p.m. ET/PT, with an encore airing on TCM on July 31 at 8 pm ET/PT. This marks the 10th year the Emmy-winning AFI Life Achievement Award special will air on TNT.
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Newsweek
2 days ago
- Newsweek
Mr. Capra's Wonderful Life: An Immigration and Love Story for the Ages
It's story for the ages. The man who brought iconic classics to the big screen, including his three Academy Award winners—It Happened One Night, Mr. Deeds Goes to Town and You Can't Take It With You—has a life story that's as remarkable as any movie he ever made, including Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and his 1946 classic It's a Wonderful Life. Frank Capra's origin story is itself a classic American story. And a classic love story, too. Not just his love of people and the medium he would come to master—film—but his love of America. His love of the country that adopted him. Indeed, Capra so loved his country that he served, at the height of his career, directly under Chief of Staff General George Marshall (the most senior officer commanding the U.S. Army) to help bring to life the seven-episode documentary series Why We Fight during World War II. The films were commissioned by our government to boost the morale of Americans in the fight overseas. And millions of Americans at home. One film in the series—Prelude to War—won the 1942 Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature. By 1945, the year Capra was discharged as a colonel, 54 million Americans had seen the films. Capra, for his service to his country, was awarded the Legion of Merit and Distinguished Service medals. Director Frank Capra smiles as he holds the Life Achievement Award he was presented by the American film Institute during the Tenth Annual American Film Institute's Life Achievement Award Dinner at the Beverly Hilton Hotel... Director Frank Capra smiles as he holds the Life Achievement Award he was presented by the American film Institute during the Tenth Annual American Film Institute's Life Achievement Award Dinner at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in Los Angeles on March 5, 1982. More AP Photo/Nick Ut Francesco Rosario Capra's love affair with America began not too many years after he was born in 1897 in Palermo, Sicily. Capra was named for his grandfather, who had built and designed churches for a living. The youngest of seven children, his parents—Roman Catholics both—immigrated to the United States in 1903, ending up in Los Angeles. Like millions of immigrants before and after, the Capras didn't come here to change America: They came to have America change them. And change the Capras lives for the better America did. How much did Capra love his country? In 1982, while being honored in Los Angeles by the American Film Institute (AFI) with the Lifetime Achievement Award, Capra seized the opportunity to thank the American people—and America itself—for the opportunities and freedom his adopted country afforded him. In a speech in front of the titans of the movie industry, Capra started by thanking the many people who guided him along the way—great writers, actors and executives alike. He then explained the secret to his success as a storyteller. "The art of Frank Capra is very, very simple," he said. "It's the love of people, and add two simple ideals to this love of people—the freedom of each individual and the equal importance of each individual—and you have the principle upon which I based all my films." This was not mere sentiment Capra was expressing, and he knew more than most how to summon sentiment in his storytelling. Those words sprang from a deeper well: from his Catholic worldview, and the ideals, and governing principles, of the country he loved. But Capra wasn't finished, saving the best part of his speech—and the most personal part of his speech—for last. It started humbly and evocatively. "An occasion like this, when we all get together to pay homage to our craft, forces me to think, 'How the hell did I get up here?'" Capra said, followed by laughter from the crowd. Capra continued: "Nearly 79 years ago, I celebrated my sixth birthday in the black dark hole in a creaking ship, crammed with retching, praying, terrorized immigrants. Thirteen days of misery, and then the ship stopped. And my father grabbed me and carried me up the steep iron stairs to the deck and then he shouted, 'Chico, look at that!' At first, all I saw was a deck full of people crying on their knees, crying and rejoicing. My father cried, 'That's the greatest light since the Star of Bethlehem.' I looked up, and there was a statue of a great lady [Statue of Liberty]. Taller than a church steeple, holding a lamp over the land we were about to enter. And my father said, 'It's the light of freedom, Chico. Freedom.'" The audience was mesmerized as Capra recounted this pivotal moment in the life of his family in vivid detail, putting the audience on that ship as only a master storyteller can do. Capra continued, with stars like Bob Hope and Bette Davis on the edge of their seats, and the edge of tears. Capra closed things out looking up to the heavens to address his deceased family members, and this time, it was Capra himself who was on the edge of tears: "So, finally, there is something I must say to some other members of my family, and I believe they will hear me. Mama, Papa, big brother Ben, Josephine, Tony, little sister Ann, remember the day we arrived at the Southern Pacific Station here in Los Angeles, and Papa and Mama kissed the ground? Look, the American Film Institute has given me their Lifetime Achievement Award, and for that, I am thanking them and all my friends who've come here. But for America—just for living here—I kiss the ground." When Capra received his AFI award, President Ronald Reagan said: "You have recognized and helped us recognize all that is wonderful about the American character." Capra's films also helped us recognize the character of Jesus. "Movies should be a positive expression that there is hope, love, mercy, justice and charity," he said in a 1960 interview. "A filmmaker has the unrestricted privilege of haranguing an audience for two-hour stretches—the chance to influence public thinking for good or for evil. It is, therefore, his responsibility to emphasize the positive qualities of humanity by showing the triumph of the individual over adversities." Capra died peacefully in his sleep at his home in La Quinta, California, in 1991 at age 94 in the country he loved, surrounded by the people he loved. And the God he loved, too. They say that art mirrors life, but life sometimes mirrors art. That at least was Capra's hope. The headline to his New York Times obituary said it best: Frank Capra, Whose Films Helped America Keep Faith in Itself, Is Dead at 94.


Atlantic
3 days ago
- Atlantic
A Famed Director Tried to Build a Fan Base for His Movie. It Was Awkward.
Francis Ford Coppola had a plan—or seemed to have one, at least. When the famed director of The Godfather walked onto the stage of San Francisco's Palace of Fine Arts Theatre after a screening of his latest film, 2024's Megalopolis, he told the audience that he intended 'to change the world tonight.' An assistant wheeled out a whiteboard listing the 10 topics Coppola wanted to discuss: time, work, money, politics, education, law, war, art, religion, and celebration. By the time the talk ended two hours later, however, the 86-year-old filmmaker had covered only five of the items; almost half of the audience had trickled out; and the world appeared regrettably unchanged. Billed as 'An Evening with Francis Ford Coppola,' the event earlier this month was the last stop in a six-city road tour meant to honor Megalopolis by indulging in an in-depth study of its themes. The whiteboard, the 10-pronged approach to fixing human society, the hours of unmoderated discussion—all of it was an apparent attempt to build the mythology of a film released less than a year ago that had already seemed to be forgotten. Movies have been resuscitated before: Now-beloved films such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Princess Bride, and The Big Lebowski have for decades been embraced by audiences after being overlooked during their initial releases. But as much as Megalopolis fits the vague outlines of notoriety that could one day make it a cult classic—Coppola's epic film, which envisioned America as a retro-futuristic version of the Roman empire, was critically derided, dramatically underperformed at the box office, and endured a shaky behind-the-scenes production that involved the director plopping down $120 million of his own money—its revival feels different. Indeed, the response to Coppola's cross-country tour came off less like the beginnings of an underground fan base, and more like a film community tolerating an auteur's exhaustive defense of his work. 'The Coppola thing's a bit unusual,' Jamie Sexton, a film professor studying cult cinema at Northumbria University, in England, told me. The director seems to be a one-man army who's attempting, Sexton said, 'to facilitate a cult following.' Of course, the notion of a 'cult film' has grown nebulous over time: Many movies that have been bestowed the title, such as Blade Runner and This Is Spinal Tap, gained widespread popularity anyway, and the proliferation of streaming services makes it easier for people to discover nearly any movie on their own. But rather than allow audiences to organically find Megalopolis, Coppola has made it hard to screen legally. (The film is currently unavailable to stream in North America.) Rather than wait for reevaluations of it to emerge over time, Coppola initiated the conversation from his end. Coppola, for his part, leaned into the weirdness of his endeavor. During the live events, he covered topics as varied as education reform, the benefits of jury duty, and the oppressiveness of time—only very loosely linking them all to Megalopolis. The director, who wore mismatched socks onstage, beseeched his audience to ask him anything. One attendee pressed him to discuss the allure of organic architecture. Another thrust a hand into the air for a two-part question: First, did Coppola have anything to share about a third cut of Apocalypse Now, and second, could Coppola please sign the custom Harley-Davidson motorcycle he'd designed to honor the director's filmography? (It was parked right outside!) Coppola answered most queries patiently, but always turned back to the guiding principles on his whiteboard. His efforts to reintroduce Megalopolis to the public demonstrate the challenge of transforming a flop into a cult classic. No formula exists for that process, but the building—and maintaining—of underground-hit status, Sexton told me, requires audiences to take full control of a work's legacy. Regardless of cinematic quality, such projects tend to be transgressive in some compelling manner, enough to inspire devotion: They're thematically controversial, stylistically challenging, or simply enjoyable in ways that fans want to passionately defend. 'There is a special flavor to the cult following when the art is not considered mainstream, because that fills you with a sense of almost conspiratorial-style comfort,' Amanda Montell, the author of Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism and a co-host of the podcast Sounds Like a Cult, told me. 'Like, I have access to something that the sheep do not.' Viewers grant these movies a rarefied status by continuously rallying behind them and pushing for them to be reconsidered by critics and mainstream audiences. When studios try to mobilize niche fandoms, however, by rereleasing much-memed movies, fast-tracking sequels, and coining portmanteaus, that interest seldom translates into sustainable, influential communities. The power to define a film's fate after its release rests with the consumers, not the creators. Even so, Coppola's decision to take the reins appears to have worked to some extent: Several stops on the tour sold out, and a handful of attendees the night I went shouted at the filmmaker to release Megalopolis on Blu-ray in North America. But none of it proves that Megalopolis has finally won audiences over. If anything, the continued fascination with the film illustrates the appeal of self -mythology—of watching a filmmaker define the personal stakes of his work, examine his career, and tie his own worldview so closely to a single project. Montell explained that Coppola's strategy seemed to involve 'Frankensteining' the practices that materialize around cult movies (hard-to-access screenings, dissections of their production) with the circuitous chatter that can surround cults of personality. By showing up to appreciate the flaws of the film—and of its maker's aspirations—the audience countered critical consensus and displayed unconventional taste. Some of that involves direct participation, which, for many cult films, can turn into rituals: During screenings of The Room, audiences toss plastic spoons at the screen. During The Rocky Horror Picture Show, they sing along. During Megalopolis, at least at the San Francisco showing, an especially passionate group in the audience cheered during a scene that had gone viral, chanting 'club' alongside the protagonist, the visionary inventor Cesar, played by Adam Driver. Spontaneous responses such as that may indicate the beginnings of a cult legacy. But for all of Coppola's insistence that his film's themes are hugely relevant to today's society, answering the question of whether a movie as strange and ambitious as Megalopolis will truly find a fervent audience, Sexton said, requires patience: 'For me, there has to be some kind of endurance beyond the buzz.' An upcoming making-of documentary will further test the film's potential longevity. Until then, what Coppola has done is willed an ephemeral following into being, for just six nights—and maybe, for him, for now, that's enough. After all, Sexton pointed out, 'he doesn't have to do this.'

Associated Press
6 days ago
- Associated Press
USA Network is bringing back scripted TV. First up? John Grisham's 'The Rainmaker'
Since 2021, the USA Network had stacked its lineup with reality shows and sports, entirely forgoing original, scripted programming. Fans of 'Suits', 'White Collar' and 'Monk' were left with only memories of those shows' case-of-the-week storytelling. But on Friday, the network returns to scripted TV with the legal thriller 'The Rainmaker.' If the title sounds familiar, it's because it's based on the 1995 novel by John Grisham, which was first adapted into the 1997 Matt Damon-starring film directed by Francis Ford Coppola. In this 'Rainmaker,' British actor Milo Callaghan plays Rudy Baylor. It's the first leading role for Callaghan, who had previously played recurring characters in shows like HBO's 'Dune: Prophecy' and Starz's 'The Spanish Princess.' Baylor is fresh out of law school and about to start working at the largest law firm in the state, run by Leo F. Drummond (John Slattery). On his first day, Baylor gets fired after challenging Drummond in a meeting. Desperate for work, he takes a job at a small ambulance-chasing firm that works out of a former taco joint. His boss is Jocelyn 'Bruiser' Stone (Lana Parrilla, in a gender swap from the film where Mickey Rourke had the role). She's smart, confident and not afraid to use her sex appeal to get what she wants. Rudy's first big case pits him against the big, fancy law firm that let him go — and his girlfriend who still works there. Callaghan told The Associated Press about learning legalese while doing a Memphis accent and familiarizing himself with the source material. Answers are edited for clarity and brevity. AP: Did you watch 'The Rainmaker' film? CALLAGHAN: I watched it when I got cast. Matt Damon is somebody that every young actor would look up to. I wanted to be aware of the work that he did. I mean, it was a Coppola movie as well, so I was excited to see it. And then I gave it maybe like 20 minutes' thought and focused on the script because it is different and I think we have 10 hours of television to explore this character. We go on a windier road than the movie. AP: Did you read the novel as well and did that help to find your version of Rudy? CALLAGHAN: Yes. It's a slow-paced thriller, really, but fantastic. And there's this chunk, it must be about 100 pages, of him just preparing for this case for months and months and months. So I never wanted it to feel like it was off-the-hand genius. It felt like this is a situation that has to be honored to a certain extent. Like, you can be a fantastic lawyer, but you don't get there without grinding and grafting. We had great scenes where we were working late into the night. AP: Did learning your lines to play a lawyer also have you working late? CALLAGHAN: You prep a court scene, and it's eight pages, and it is a deposition. And you know it and you've worked on it and you're ready to go to sleep, and it's quarter to midnight, and you have an email saying, 'We've rewritten this scene and we're shooting it at 8 a.m.' And you're like, 'Not only am I relearning all this, but I have to go back through the dialect to make sure that this is airtight.' It was definitely an extra component that I probably lost a bit of sleep over. AP: You're also British and Rudy Baylor is from Tennessee. How did you lose your accent and master a Southern one? CALLAGHAN: Consistent work with a great dialogue coach. I remember I got there on my first day and I was running lines with P.J. Byrne, who plays Deck, and he's kind of looking at me funny. He's like, 'Why are you talking like that?' I was like, 'What do you mean? Because we start filming in three days.' I was pronouncing everything phonetically because that was the way I learned. I had to really work on paring it back into a place that felt so natural. For a movie, you might get away with it, but for 10 hours of television, it just has to be light, it has to be quick, it has to be at your fingertips. AP: Was there a word that gave you trouble? CALLAGHAN: 'North City Hospital.' It was the hardest thing. I was like, 'Why did you call it this?' I got all this legalese down and then 'North City Hospital' would shoot me in the foot every time. AP: There are also differences between U.K. and American law. Did you study U.S. law? CALLAGHAN: I went through major trials, like the whole O.J. Simpson murder trial and the Gwyneth Paltrow trial. And also obscure trials. I studied attorneys and their patterns of speech and the way they address the court. We don't really have the same kind of pop star element to the legal system of like, 'That's the guy who represented this person and that person.' Studying that is fascinating.