Seeing that David Walsh had
reviewed Megalopolis I wondered whether his judgment would challenge the generally negative judgment of the critics. However, the very subtitle of his review makes clear that where the movie's quality was concerned he did not, declaring it a "weak, terribly confused fable about modern-day America." For his part Walsh makes clear that he does not think the movie's being a "fable" is the problem--such in his view capable of "be[ing] revealing and illuminating, bringing out truths in generalized, clarifying form." The film's fault is not that it is a fable but that the fable is "crude and poorly done" in virtually every respect, "technical" ones included, Walsh specifically citing "script," "staging," "acting," "dramatic coherence," and "overall look and 'feel'" before coming to the matter of "social insight," which seems to be really the fatal thing here given the subject matter that Coppola elected to take up (the central conflict in the story between an inventor-architect's aspiration to rebuild a troubled "New Rome" as "Megalopolis" using revolutionary new materials, and the machinations of powerful enemies intent on stopping him, who whip up a reactionary mass movement in opposition). Walsh regards Coppola's evident concerns with fascism and dictatorship as "legitimate" but also thinks that in the movie Coppola "confront[s] a complex society’s immensely complex dilemmas" with "lazy, self-indulgent banalities worthy of the 1970s' 'counterculture'" and indeed a social vision readable as comprised wholly of residues of it, namely "an unhealthy combination of bohemian self-indulgence, quasi-mysticism and extreme . . . individualism." To Walsh this seems especially evident in the tale's centering on "a persecuted, tortured intellectual 'genius'" far above a populace presented here only "as easily manipulated fodder for right-wing demagogues" "retaining his prominence on the world stage and directing its future evolution" being the sole hope of salvation for a world in crisis (which comes off as self-indulgent given how Coppola seems to only too obviously and strongly see himself in the film's "persecuted, tortured intellectual 'genius,'" Adam Driver's inventor-architect Cesar Catalina). Indeed, Walsh proceeds from there to argue that those few critics who have had positive words for the film--it is these and not the far more numerous detractors that he concerns himself with--praise exactly those elements he found unsatisfactory about it, reflecting how they, too, are captive to the same unfortunate way of looking at the world.
Considering that I think of how one of Walsh's themes as a critic has long been the way which artists' outlook and the work that follows from it reflects their times--and his view of American film having suffered since the '70s from how deadly the last half century has been for any sort of critical, socially-informed perspective, with all the implications this has had for those artists whose subject is human beings. If a half century ago artists like Coppola had displayed a measure of genuine social criticism and dissent in the years since they made their peace with the world they so miserably failed to change, and looked to their own enjoyments in it, as the weakest and least satisfying in their outlook came to the fore. The result was that even what passed among them for social concern was "noisy, energy-consuming thrashing about" reflecting fears for their expectations of "continu[ing] to function 'freely' (and prosperously) in a decaying and threatening world."
Of course, Walsh has repeatedly given his readers the impression over the past couple of years that, amid all that has been happening in the world, artists were beginning to really look about themselves again and think hard about what they saw. Indeed, Walsh wrote glowing reviews to two films in 2023 by filmmakers whose works he had consistently panned in the past--
Yorgos Lanthimos' Poor Things, and
Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer. Meanwhile if Walsh's annual Oscar coverage these past many decades has
generally treated the ceremony as a thing to be endured rather than enjoyed by any really thinking and feeling person, he seemed to see what was very possibly the emergence of a different spirit in the ceremony earlier this year (where it seemed to be a good sign that the two movies by Lanthimos and Nolan, in his view deservedly,
between the two of them took home eleven statues, including Best Picture, Best Director, three of the four acting prizes, and Best Adapted Screenplay, as the makers of the generally less worthy fare competing with them generally ended up with consolation prizes). In Walsh's judgment, however, rather than
Megalopolis being one of the "green shoots" portending a recovery in American cinema, the film as he describes it is instead a monument to the decadence of the past years he has so often described, in which what was least satisfying in Coppola's work even at its Godfather/
Apocalypse Now best (the "murkiest and least coherent, and most self-aggrandizing, elements") is pretty much all the director has to offer now. Indeed it can seem to say something that where Walsh so often closes a review of a really unsatisfactory film or ceremony with an evocation of American filmmaking's healthier situation in the past, and the hints of movement toward something better today, his review of
Megalopolis closes with its damning judgment of this movie, Walsh offering nothing beyond that at review's end.
