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Clemenza

“Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli”: The Hit Man as Family Man

in Anatomy of a Scene

By Sterling Farrance

In a film as eminently quotable as Coppola’s The Godfather, perhaps only one choice line emerged solely from improvisation: “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.” Neither the shooting script n­­­or the novel mentions cannolis, but Coppola had his own childhood memories to draw this detail from: he remembered the specific white boxes that his father would bring home after work. That said, it was not Coppola who generated the line: Clemenza’s “Take the cannoli” line was an improvisation on the part of actor Richard Castellano, who portrayed him. The line became the favorite of many of The Godfather’s cast and crew, including Michael Chapman, a cameraman who would later, as cinematographer, become famous for his work on Taxi Driver and Raging Bull, among other great films. (The Annotated Godfather)

While the history behind this little tidbit of Hollywood magic is indeed fascinating, the line itself stands out because, in tandem with the scenes around it, it condenses so much about the values on display in The Godfather: in the world of the Corleones, family comes before all else, protecting children is imperative, and business is business.

***

An image of Clemenza's home
Clemenza’s cozy home

Peter Clemenza has been assigned the grim duty of assuring that Paulie is punished for the attack on Vito Corleone, and this is where the sequence leading up to the cannolis begins. In this first scene, we see Clemenza’s smaller family unit and get a sense of his home life. This short sequence personalizes the larger mob family and conveys many of the themes found in the film: the immigrant dream of American middle-class bliss, the need to care for and protect the family, and the untrustworthy and false front of business. Clemenza’s home is cozy, and seemingly of the type to be found in a place like Long Island. There are kids playing in the street and driveway, and we can hear laughter and joyous voices. The car that’s parked in the driveway is postwar and is shiny and gorgeous. Strife is conspicuously absent here; Clemenza’s home life is warm, and even idyllic. This seems to be the very life that Vito left Sicily for.

When are you going to be home?
Clemenza's wife looks approvingly at him
Look at my sweet husband!

The camera cuts in to the doorstep, and Clemenza talks with his wife. They speak in the rhythm of a couple married for many years. Clemenza has his back turned to the camera, so his wife’s face, dialogue, and motions grab our attention, just as she is trying to grab her husband’s attention before he leaves for work. She wants to know when he’ll be home, and lovingly blows him a kiss after he tells her it will be late. She smiles after him as he walks away, as if to say “what a good man, what a good life I have.” To her, it’s just another day and nothing in Clemenza’s demeanor has given away that he’s on a brutal mission. He’s already in character, already putting up the false front he must maintain to deflect Paulie’s suspicion and keep the hit moving smoothly.

As he climbs into the car, she calls after him “Don’t forget the cannoli!” Clemenza replies, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.” We tend to want to chuckle a bit, or at least smile: his repeated “yeahs” seem to convey “Oh that wife, how she nags, but she’s really a good one, and I love her, and won’t forget those cannolis.” But the humdrum dialogue not only personalizes this family unit, and through extension the larger Corleone mob family, but also suggests the importance of a certain level of comfort, of the pleasure that comes with that comfort. In the American dream of prosperity, it’s not enough simply to feed your family; one needs the treats that come from keeping that slightly more privileged existence.

Paulie nervously asks Rocco to move from his spot in the back seat
Paulie: not a very good actor
Clemenza advises Paulie to "Watch the kids"
Clemenza: thinking about the family

As Clemenza sits in the car, Paulie’s anxiety is readily apparent. He nervously looks at Rocco in the back seat and tells him to move, explaining that he needs a better view of the car’s rear. Paulie is fooling nobody, but this doesn’t matter. Clemenza doesn’t even show that he’s noticed, and Rocco moves without comment. Paulie is no actor, while Clemenza has a cold and routine manner. This is what’s needed to protect the family, and to keep the business moving. As they begin to pull out of the driveway, Clemenza sternly warns Paulie to “watch out for the kids while you’re backing out.” Like Vito who cares so deeply about the welfare of his children, Clemenza, even in moments of intense focus and responsibility, is looking out for his own children.

***

Notably, this unflinching drive to protect the family is exactly what led us to this scene in the first place. Paulie has seemingly betrayed Vito—and thus the family—by selling him out. In The Godfather, this kind of betrayal is the worst of all sins. We see the matter discussed, in the Corleone family office, just before the viewer spends time in front of Clemenza’s cozy abode.

Paulie coughs in a contrived manner in front of Sonny Corleone, who -- after he leaves the room -- order that he be killed
From fake cough to a hit planned

In the middle of deliberations about the fate of the family, Paulie enters the room with a message, handkerchief in hand, coughing a very pitifully fake sounding cough. Sonny sees through this faux-illness and doesn’t believe it’s a coincidence that Vito was shot the day Paulie was “sick.” Paulie, meanwhile, seems to foolishly think the family has gone soft enough not to catch him, but his poor acting underscores that he doesn’t have what it takes to handle the business world of the film. As soon as Paulie leaves the room, Sonny sternly orders the hit, telling Clemenza to make it the first thing on his list. Not only is betrayal the worst of all sins, necessitating an immediate death sentence, but there can be no time wasted.

***

Clemenza is just the man to enact the necessary care and protection of the family. Beneath Clemenza’s calm exterior, he is calculating—planning and taking precise action. Before Clemenza, Rocco, and Paulie have even left his driveway, Clemenza starts planning. The family business must move much quicker than before to deal with the myriad problems arising from the shooting of the Don. Clemenza begins discussing arrangements for safehouses to protect the family. This begins to settle Paulie down a bit.

Clemenza plans “goin’ to the mattresses”

Though this planning might ease Paulie’s anxiety, it is also legitimate, and is in fact critical work. On the level of the plot, it makes Paulie feel comfortable and gives him the sense that business is running as usual, which will keep the hit running smoothly, with no struggle or risk of the attempt being thwarted. Rocco, who sits in the back seat ready to actually commit the murder, is also being groomed to take Paulie’s place. While Clemenza lays out safehouse instructions throughout the drive, he might as well be giving this information to Rocco. They can’t just waste the time it takes to drive to a rural place and kill Paulie; they must plan next steps as well. The family business cannot stop or even slow down.

As they drive along, they trade jokes. While these jokes work to lighten the tone with Paulie, they have a deeper subtext too. En route to the remote spot that will serve as the scene of Paulie’s death, Clemenza explains that the mattresses must be clean because they will be in use for a long while. Paulie assures him that they are: “They told me they exterminate them.” Rocco starts to laugh, and Clemenza exclaims, “Exterminate? That’s a bad word to use: exterminate! Get this guy. Watch out we don’t exterminate you!”

Paulie: "They're clean and exterminated" / Clemenza: "That's a bad word to use"
The beginning of a harsh joke
Clemenza says to Paulie, "Exterminate! Watch out so we don't exterminate you!" The car is shown driving a curving country road outside of Manhattan
The brutal punchline

On an instrumental level, Clemenza is keeping things light and jovial to prevent Paulie from suspecting anything: while instructing him to “watch out,” he is in fact disarming him. But this joke has a different level of meaning for viewers who see the hit coming: in light of the murder they have planned, this joke seems incredibly cold, harsh, and calculated. The three of them then joke about flatulence in Italian—a very crude and typical “Who farted? It wasn’t me, it must have been you!” bit of banter. Before the laughter and tone has the chance to shift, Clemenza crudely declares, “Pull over. I’ve got to take a leak.” The tone of the moment continues to be earthy, casual. This of course opens the opportunity for the actual killing, and all the humor has prevented Paulie from becoming too suspicious. He is shot while Clemenza urinates—as if to suggest that the killing is as routine, regular, and necessary as “taking a leak.”

An image of a car parked in the countryside alternates with images of Clemenza taking a leak
Zip. Bang, bang, bang!

The act itself is done swiftly and coldly while Clemenza urinates. He walks away, unzips, and almost immediately three gunshots are fired. The camera is close to Clemenza, and he turns his head just enough to allow the viewer to see his slight reaction. When the act happens, there is maybe a hint of unexpected sadness that plays over his face, but the dominant look is one of resignation—resignation, we imagine, to the necessity of this act. Meanwhile the camera is incredibly far away from Paulie and Rocco, far enough to keep the act impersonal, and far enough to show us the Statue of Liberty in the distant background. This kind of coldness and decisiveness is what has allowed the family to achieve the safety and the immigrant dream symbolized by that pillar of freedom, and only this cold slaying will allow them to keep it.

Clemenza tells Rocco, "Leave the gun. Take the cannoli."
And let the quoting begin!

Clemenza tells Rocco, “Leave the gun,” which also means leave the car, the bloody body, the shattered windshield, and this whole horrific scene. Leave it to be a message; let it show the family has not gone soft, not gotten sloppy or stupid, and let it show what the cost of betrayal is. And then Clemenza gives the punchline: “take the cannoli.” He cannot leave that prized treat he has promised the family: otherwise what’s this all for? In the world of The Godfather, your word is your bond. He might have pushed away his wife with “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” but he wouldn’t dare forget her beloved cannolis. His conscientiousness lightly suggests the follow-through necessary to survive this film’s world (Michael is expert at follow-through). So Clemenza tells Rocco to reach into the bloody car for the special dessert. He is bringing back the cannoli, but also—thanks to the killing—a safer state for the family, one more secure and without the current threat of betrayal.

We can demonstrate why this scene is so important to the narrative, and we can illuminate how well executed it is; however, we may not have explained why everyone loves that quote. I know I count myself among its fans, but I can’t quite tell you why. I think it has something to do with the economy of its language—how, in the space of six words total, we get two sentences that convey so much about the core of this remarkable film. It’s a straight-up, practical line that advances the story very efficiently. But pure efficiency isn’t what makes great art. You can’t just leave the aesthetics and take the function. The quick rhythm, the parallel structure, and the decisiveness they register are appealing for reasons that go beyond mere efficiency. So maybe that’s why we adore these two quick lines: because they blend form and function at the highest level.

But let’s be real, we’d all be lying to ourselves—at least a little—if we don’t admit: it’s also totally badass.

Sterling Farrance is a writer/educator with a freshly minted B.A. in English and Creative Writing from UC Berkeley. An avid cinephile and lover of anachronistic media, he is looking forward to beginning an MFA at St. Mary’s College in Moraga, California where he will write about how film changes one’s view of the world. This, of course, is mostly just an excuse for him to plow through his ever-growing laserdisc collection for the sake of “research.”

 

Inhale, Exhale: Cigarettes and the Power of Michael Corleone

in Tropes and Leitmotifs
Michael wreathed in the smoke of Enzo's cigarette

By Meaghan Allen

Few people smoke in Coppola’s The Godfather, and for many of those who do, the cigarette functions more as a prop than as an expression of an idea about their character. However, the moments that Michael Corleone, played by Al Pacino, chooses to smoke are exceptional, deliberate moments: the action is in fact an action and not something done absent-mindedly. Michael smokes his cigarettes with purpose, as an image of his authority—of his emotional and mental strength as Godfather-in-the-making.

The choice of a cigarette to represent Michael’s symbolic power is significant because a cigarette is not a latent, or concealed, object: it consumes; it burns; it has the potential to kill and destroy. It is a piece of death that fits between the fingers and is kissed as the smoker inhales its substance, filling the body with fire. A cigarette demands a certain sense of control and presence, and—when used consciously—can be evocative of raw force.

The subtle symbolism of cigarettes is developed especially across three scenes in The Godfather: the scene where Michael comes home after Vito has been shot; the scene where Michael stands guard for his father outside the hospital; and the scene in which Michael is officially named Don. Whether through Michael’s physical movements (in particular his handling of cigarettes and lighters) or through the visual composition of the scene’s frame, Coppola underscores that, for Michael, the cigarette serves as a totem of dominance, control, and cool authority.

***

In the scene where the Family deliberates after the shooting of Vito, we see five men sitting in the dark office of the Corleone home. The shot is a medium ensemble shot of Michael (his back to the camera), Tom Hagen (profile), Sonny (almost direct center), Clemenza (3/4 face viewable), and Tessio (most of his face obscured, so we see mainly the back of his head). The camera is located behind the Don’s table, in line with the perspective of someone sitting in the leather chair, an evocation of Vito’s presence despite his being in the hospital. Out of focus in the foreground are a few objects sitting on the table, elements of the mise-en-scene: a cup, a small business ledger, some unidentifiable (due to the shadows) desk trinkets, and a pack of cigarettes.

After the attempt on his life, the camera takes Vito’s place at his desk

The men are all talking, discussing how to proceed given the news that Sollozzo has nearly succeeded in murdering Vito. In the whirling current of the conversation, Michael—who has been silent—comments, “You gonna kill all those guys” (referring to Sollozzo, Barzini, Tattaglia), and Sonny barks back, “Hey Mikey stay out of it!” This abrupt response silences Michael, and his lack of voice is tangible, a void in the overlapping whir of conversation. A beat later, though, he turns his head, and his face is now in profile. He turns his head further, giving the camera a full view of his face, and looks on the desk, possibly for some hint of encouragement from his missing father, to find his voice: he sees the pack of cigarettes. Michael gets out of his chair, walks very briefly out of the frame, and then re-enters in the foreground to grab a cigarette from the pack, which he tosses haphazardly back onto the table. He is now located in the dark shadows at the edge of the frame, his body a shapeless mass that morphs into the limits of the shot, becoming one with the shadows, not only of the scene but of the shadowy criminal underworld.

Michael reaching for the cigarettes on his father Vito’s desk

He is standing, meaning that the others must look up at him when they speak. Sonny points to Michael, says something incomprehensible regarding “Do me a favor” (which loosely recalls the opening scene between Vito [Michael] and Bonasera [Sonny] who comes to the Godfather for a ‘favor’)—a comment to which Michael does not respond verbally. Instead he moves back to his chair and sits, the cigarette firmly between his lips. In a few calculated movements Michael has not only foreshadowed his readiness to enter the family business by becoming one with the shadows of the frame and room, but he has also taken charge of the shot by seeking his emblematic cigarette.

Michael’s first cigarette in the film — part of a movement in which he comes to occlude our view of Sonny, the presumptive Don-in-waiting

In the composition of the medium ensemble shot, Sonny appears to be the focus, as the man in power, and Michael is presented as occupying a subordinate position, with his back to the camera. But by moving in the frame, coming closer to the camera, and therefore becoming a larger, more dominant presence, Michael has become the center of attention. He is now the man in power. Sonny may still be handling the logistics of business as the perceived head of the family, but Michael is the interesting, active presence. He captures the camera’s gaze, and he does so to light a cigarette.

This cigarette is not any mere cigarette: it is Michael’s first cigarette in the film, and it was presumably Vito’s as it was on his desk. This cigarette, this token of strength and leadership, comes from the reigning head of the family. Even if the cigarette was not originally Vito’s, it is coming from a place of power by being in the office, on the Don’s desk. When it enters Michael’s mouth and he inhales the essence of the cigarette and has it fill his body, it endows him with metaphorical authority.

***

Enzo’s trembling hands, as he tries to light a cigarette

The symbolic power of this cigarette carries over and is heightened in the next significant cigarette scene, which occurs between Enzo, the baker, and Michael outside the hospital later that night. Enzo’s hands are shaking uncontrollably as he reaches into his coat pocket for his pack of smokes. He and Michael have just successfully deferred an attack on Don Corleone, who has been shot and is recovering in the hospital, by standing out by the front gate of the hospital posing as armed body guards. The close-up shot pans from Enzo’s hands retrieving a cigarette up towards his face, the camera gracefully following the movement of his hands. The further towards his mouth his hand moves, the more violently he begins to shake in intense spasms. He turns his face away to scan his surroundings in an attempt to collect his bearings; the clicking of the lighter as he struggles to strike it can be heard.

We cut to a close-up of Enzo’s hand unsuccessfully igniting the lighter; he fumbles repeatedly, unable to control his hand muscles enough to turn the flint wheel and strike the flame. Michael’s hands then reach into the frame. The camera subtly follows Michael’s hands as they successfully turn the flint wheel on the first attempt and a strong flame flares. The frame holds, and Enzo leans down into Michael’s hands to light his cigarette. As Enzo pulls out of the frame, the camera angle cuts towards a medium close-up of Enzo and Michael, the focus of the shot now on Michael: he is looking down at his hands with intense concentration, his face enveloped in the smoke exhaled by Enzo’s cigarette. We then cut to a close up of Michael’s hands still holding the lighter, the lid still up; he pauses, briefly, before snapping the lid shut as police sirens enter the soundscape.

Michael calmly lighting Enzo’s cigarette
Michael wreathed in the smoke of Enzo’s cigarette

There is a lot going on in this particular encounter, one that lasts only twenty seconds of an almost three-hour film. What is revealed about Michael’s character is crucial. This scene outside the hospital occurs immediately after Michael pledges his allegiance to his father and by implication the family, declaring at Vito’s bedside that he is finally ‘with’ them. Michael has now officially entered the criminal underworld, posing as an armed mafioso, and he has done so with grace and courage. Despite the high risk and tension of a difficult situation he maintains his composure.

The juxtaposition of Enzo’s shaking hands with Michael’s steady hands underlines that Michael is capable of staying rational, calm, collected, and cool in this monstrous syndicate. He is in full control of his emotions, thoughts, and actions—embodying a composure that is absolutely necessary if he wishes to follow in his father’s footsteps and become Don. Also noteworthy is the choreography of power expressed by the gestures: Enzo bends down to light his cigarette, but Michael does not move his hands towards Enzo’s face. Michael is the provider of light, sustenance, and protection; Enzo merely receives these gifts.

The source of these gifts, a lighter, also carries a great deal of symbolic resonance. A lighter is an object capable of complete destruction: it has the capacity to burn all obstacles that stand in the way, and it furnishes fuel for the totemic cigarettes that Michael smokes. This small, sleek item, unassuming in its power, might be said to find a parallel in the character of Michael—the decorated war veteran, the ‘good kid’ who becomes the meticulous, cold-blooded, murderous Godfather by the end of the film. The lighter and its essential companion the cigarette have begun to function, then, as a cinematic trope expressing Michael’s control as Don, his observant nature, and his ability to destroy and be the hand of death. In short, they suggest his complete patriarchal (possibly phallic) power as Godfather.

***

Michael twirls a cigarette lighter after having his authority challenged

The final compelling scene of Michael’s smoking occurs at a transitional moment in his rise as Godfather, when Vito first places Michael in charge. In this scene, which again occurs in the family office, the shot switches from a brief ensemble shot of Michael sitting beneath the lamp, the only source of light in the shuttered room, to a medium shot of Michael in his chair. His legs are crossed and he is twirling his lighter in his hand as he talks of moving the family’s business to Nevada. He is in a suit (wearing the same tie he does at the baptism), and his body is active, his fingers lightly tapping the lighter and his crossed leg restlessly bouncing. His authority as Don is not being taken seriously – Clemenza and Tessio keep turning to Vito, not Michael, for instruction. It is not until after the brief dialogue between Vito, Clemenza, and Tessio, where Vito declares “Be a friend to Michael,” that Michael’s dominion as Don takes hold.

This absolute reign begins when the shot again becomes a medium ensemble and Michael ascends from his chair beneath the light to stand assertively behind the Don’s desk. As he takes his place, it is clear that he now has a lit cigarette in his hand. His voice is more confident and demanding, and he not only has physical power over Clemenza and Tessio (who are now sitting below him), but he also has his token of authority securely between his two fingers. Michael begins to hand down a series of authoritative decisions.

Cigarette in hand, Michael claims his authority: “There are things being negotiated that will solve all your problems”

The film cuts to a middle shot of Carlo as it is revealed he will be in charge in Nevada; it cuts to a middle shot of Tom, who will no longer be consigliere but instead the family lawyer in Nevada (the shot lingers to gauge Tom’s reaction); then we cut to a medium close-up shot of Michael, who is still standing. The cigarette has moved out of the frame but the smoke can be seen languidly drifting up—a reminder that it is still there, burning away, mixing in the air that Michael inhales to speak. The smoke mimics Michael’s thoughts and actions, curling and twisting like his soul as he adapts to the complex situations presented throughout the film.

Michael’s hands do not shake as he holds a thread of death in them, the ability to destroy and conquer evoked by a single image: the cigarette. Its source of power, the lighter, a small compact brass box, has the ability to burn and consume everything that gets in its way; it is a portable inferno of judgment—not so far from Michael during the infamous baptism sequence.

***

While these three scenes suggest the arc of Michael’s development via his handling of cigarettes, cigarettes are Michael’s companion and totem in three other scenes too. In the anticipation of ‘the meet’ with Sollozzo, Michael gently places a cigarette between his lips in the family kitchen to keep his calm while Sonny and Tom get anxious; when Mo Green challenges Michael in Las Vegas, Michael lights a cigarette as he prepares to tell Mo how things should be, simultaneously twirling his lighter as he does so (possibly alluding to Mo’s eventual death); and finally, Michael lights two cigarettes in the last scene of the film after Connie accuses him of murdering Carlo and Kay earnestly presses him on whether he had Carlo killed. He lights up, first, when he is giving her his ‘one-time-only’ answer about the true nature of his business; and he lights up again when he is framed by the door as Kay prepares drinks in the foreground and members of the family filter into his office.

For Michael, smoking allows for a form of meditation and deliberation that is also at the heart of his newfound power. Through the methodical rhythm of inhalation and exhalation, he achieves a cool control that becomes the personal signature of his brand of dominance. Held gently but confidently between the two fingers of Michael’s hand, the cigarette claims its place in the hands of the Godfather whose hands do not shake, the man who does not allow the strings of the family business to tangle. Michael is the one who holds the strings taut and with care, all the while enveloped in the drifting smoke of power.

Meaghan Allen (Cal ’17) currently teaches high school humanities in the Bay Area, and will soon be pursuing a Master’s Degree in Cultural Studies at the University of Edinburgh. She delivered a commencement speech at the 2017 Berkeley English Department graduation.
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