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Ripeness Is All: The Death of Vito Corleone

in Anatomy of a Scene

By Daniel Arias

Late in The Godfather, when Vito Corleone collapses to the ground and his grandson Anthony runs away to get help, viewers are left to look at the former Don’s body lying motionless in the shade of a trellised tomato garden. For five seconds, the only sounds that fill the soundtrack are the birds chirping and the wind blowing through the trees; then the image fades and funeral bells ring in the next scene. Unlike other critical scenes in the film, which rely on dramatic sequence and action, or intriguing dialogue between characters, this scene has a different way of registering with the viewer: its significance is encapsulated in the symbolic images that frame Vito’s final moments and the non-verbal gestures shared between Vito and his grandson.

It is no accident that the central prop of this scene is a watering gun — an implement which evokes power and the potential for violence but does so lightly, even ironically. (Water, not bullets, issue from its ‘barrel’.) Just before this scene, Vito speaks to his son, Michael, in the same garden. In that scene, Vito grapples with the guilt and uncertainty of having to transfer his power down to the next generation. Handing his status and the family business to Michael, he wants also to advise his son and ensure that the business can flourish. Though Michael is not unkind with Vito, neither is he overly deferential: the scene signals clearly that Michael, as the new Don, will make his own decisions.

This power dynamic is reenacted in the garden scene when Vito hands his grandson the watering gun. As a fatigued old grandfather, Vito can no longer stand for too long and he must sit down to watch Anthony play. From this position, Vito still seeks out any control he might have, shouting at his grandson, “over her, over here. Be careful, you’re spilling it, you’re spilling it. Anthony, come here, come here. Come here.” In the same way that he cannot control how Michael runs the family business, Vito cannot control how Anthony uses the water gun to feed the tomato vines. He has passed down the power to the new generation of his family: how they use that power, and how it affects them, are completely out of his control.

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Vito Corleone’s loss of power is reflected in his physical appearance and presentation. In the introductory scene of the film, Vito comes across as a powerful figure. His words carry weight and deliberation in his monologue; he wears a fine suit, and his hair neatly slicked back. By contrast, this scene presents Vito in casual clothing, and with unruly hair protruding out of his hat. His body appears languid and shriveled by age. It is a portrait of a powerless Don. Even the simple act of calling out to his grandson and extending his arm as gesture seems like an extra strain on his body.

The only gesture of power that Vito conveys in this scene is reliant on artifice. To get his grandson’s attention, Vito cuts an orange peel and fashions a pair of fangs for his mouth. In his final exertion of power before he dies, he pretends to be a big and scary monster to frighten his grandson. The performance of power is what leads to his death — both literally, in this scene, and symbolically for the overall story arc of his character. Through much of the film, Vito has performed the role of mafia Don as the ultimate exertion of his power, but in this scene, viewers are offered a glimpse into what Vito Corleone looks like without his presentation and appearance as the powerful Don Corleone. When he adorns himself with a pair of fangs, to play pretend with his grandson, the scene frames the gesture as a representation of how Vito performs throughout the film; the only difference here is that viewers witness the process of how Vito transforms himself to convey power, even if it is just to frighten his grandson for a brief moment.

Chasing his grandson through the tomato vines, Vito removes his orange peel fangs —and tellingly, it is at this moment that he erupts into the coughing fit that results in his collapse. Playing pretend with his grandson has been too much of a physical strain on his body; Vito gives up his monster act, and gives up the ghost. Likewise, Vito’s performance of power as Don has been the ultimate exertion in his life. He has structured his whole life and family around the power and persona of Don Corleone, and the toll ends up being too much to handle: Vito crumbles and falls in the tomato garden. He lies on the ground, next to the ripe, or possibly overripe, tomatoes that have burdened the vine branch with their own weight and have fallen to litter the soil.

At the very moment of Vito’s death, Coppola notably cuts to a more distant shot. The camera frames the tomato garden at the center of the backyard; in the confines of the garden lies Vito’s body. The image of Vito resting on the soil, the foundation of the garden, resonates with Vito’s role as the foundation of his family and business. He has worked and exerted himself completely to maintain the growth of his personal and family legacy. As a result, like the ripe tomatoes that must fall to make room for new ones, Vito must fall in order to make room for the new Don, his son.

There’s a sense that, even as this scene portrays the death of Vito Corleone, it also encapsulates his life. Vito has done everything in his power to plant, care for, and grow the seeds of his personal and business life. By laying the foundation for his generation and the generations to come after him, he has become the foundation. Coppola gives us as viewers five seconds to hear the wind and the birds chirping so that we register that this is a natural death — one that, for all its sadness, completes a cycle.

Daniel Arias is a graduating senior (’18) at the University of California, Berkeley, where he studies English Literature. In his spare time he binge-watches The Office for the millionth time.

A Son’s Devotion to His Father: Michael and Vito’s Garden Scene

in Anatomy of a Scene/Character Studies

By Maria De Jesus Ramos Mendez

Michael (left) and Vito (center) in the dark and enclosed garden, discussing the future of the family business

We begin the scene in a noticeably dark garden: Michael Corleone has his back to us on the left, while his father, Vito Corleone, looks away to the right. They are meeting to go over Michael’s possible assassination from a traitor in the business. The scene of their meeting — in a garden —strikes a different note from earlier Godfather scenes, in which business is handled indoors, and in dark and private rooms. Yet it is not so different: the fencing encloses the garden and gives it an exclusive feel, and the lighting is gray rather than sunny and bright, suggesting the death that looms over both Don Vito and Michael (between the previous attempt on Vito’s life and a possible future attempt on Michael’s).

Although the scene is set in a garden, which might evoke the work of women (gardening) or the play of children (a suggestion taken up by the bicycle in the background), we see that the ground is mostly dirt with some big trees near the dark concrete border mentioned earlier. Too, the placement of Don Vito and Michael at the edge of the garden and not in the middle—where there are rows of vegetables being cultivated —reinforces the idea that they are not in the garden to pass the time but to go over a plan to keep Michael safe. Michael is, after all, living his life “on the edge,” and so it is fitting that he confers with his father on the edge of the garden rather than in its more sunny center. The atmosphere may be more informal than usual in the Corleone family business, but there’s no question of its seriousness. In fact, the nature that surrounds Michael and Vito acts as a framework that preserves the transfer of power between father and son as a natural and conventional gesture.

A study in contrasts: black hair vs. gray hair, new clothes vs. faded clothes

The same frame allows us to take notice of Vito Corleone and how he has been worn down by age. His hair is a dull gray, with white accents; his skin is wrinkled; he wears stubble, as if he has stopped keeping up appearances. Another critical point about the first frame is how Vito Corleone isn’t looking directly at Michael. Instead, his eyes are low and looking elsewhere. In the same manner, we don’t have access to Michael’s face. Our only way to discern how Michael is feeling at this particular moment is through his body. He leans towards his father in a concerned and caring manner.

However, moments later, the camera shifts, and we see Michael’s face and only the back of Vito Corleone’s head. Unlike Vito Corleone, Michael’s hair is black, his face is young-looking, and even his clothes are more polished compared to Vito Corleone’s old style and almost faded shirt. The difference in clothes accentuates how Vito Corleone has retired as the head of the family business and can wear comfortable clothes and be outdoors.

We come back to Don Vito as he tells Michael that he has been drinking more wine. The brief moment presents a shift in mood. Don Vito drinking the wine makes the scene appear more casual. In the background we can hear the birds chirping; the conversation eventually turns to them talking about Michael’s family, with a focus on his son. The mention of Michael’s son and his ability to read the funny papers lightens the mood; for the first and only time in the scene, Vito’s face spreads into a smile and we feel his affection for his family.

Michael looks to his father, his back toward us, while Vito looks down at the wine in his hand
Vito smiles as he faces Michael and thinks about his grandchild
Half in shadow, half in sun: Vito contemplating the paths he’d hoped Michael would follow

The happiness vanishes fairly quickly, and the scene continues to dramatize the disconnect between Michael and Don Vito. Vito and Michael’s lack of eye contact suggests many things at once. First, as part of different generations, they are constantly seeing things from a different perspective. Don Vito is still in the old habit of going over plans, and Michael has to continue reassuring him that he has already taken care of things. Second, there is a guardedness to the warmth between them: constant eye contact might be dangerous — too affectionate, too soft, for this father and son. As Robert Towne, who was brought in to script this scene, has suggested, “they couldn’t just outwardly declare their love for each other.” Lastly, there’s the possibility that Don Vito can’t look at Michael because he can’t literally face the reality that his son has become the new Don Corleone.

This last suggestion is taken up by Vito’s dialogue in the last part of the scene, which brings out both the tenderness and guardedness of their rapport. Vito gets up from his seat and sits closer to Michael, making the space between him and Michael significantly smaller. Even though Don Corleone stands up, he doesn’t have a strong presence nor much authority in the frame because his eyes are still looking down and his walk to the seat is sluggish. The scene exposes his old age even more by closing in on his aged features.

Here the lighting underscores Don Corleone’s smallness. Despite the fact that Don Corleone is closer to the screen because of where he is seated, his appearance is darkened, and Michael’s face is lit up in profile. The lighting naturally forces our eyes to focus on Michael’s face, making us see Don Corleone as a mere shadow, almost insignificant. Under the safety of the shadows, Don Corleone permits himself to utter the words, “But I never wanted this for you.” The confession enables the scene to reach a higher level of intimacy without the need for light or eye contact because the words carry all the weight. This instance of vulnerability communicates how important the family is to Vito, so much so that he taps into the unconventional tenderness of fatherhood. The sense of vulnerability is heightened by the shadow that drapes Vito’s face — a shadow that, given Vito’s age, seems not unrelated to the shadow of death.

Michael and Vito’s bodies are positioned towards each other, but the difference in lighting (Michael’s face made lighter and Vito’s darker) makes it appear that they are looking past each other

An alternative reading of this particular moment might suggest that Michael and his father are two sides of the same coin. The main difference is that Don Corleone has his eyes looking to the left as he reflects on his past, while the frame forces Michael to look to the light, towards the future.

Coppola’s particular framing of the back and forth between father and son leaves us asking why they don’t share the screen with full faces at the same time. Perhaps the camera purposefully only grants one or the other to stress the difference in generations and how that affects the future of the godfather role. After all, this scene was written so that there could be “a visible transfer of power from father to son.” The scene wraps up with Don Corleone kissing Michael on the cheek, giving last-minute warning of the traitor, and then walking off the frame of the lens. Immediately, we see Michael lay down.

A closing frame: Michael, slumped on the patio chair, carries the weight of the family

The last frame with Michael slumped in a pillowed chair conveys the weight he now bears. In the scene as a whole, Michael has become newly sympathetic — he’s framed as the son who wants to free his elderly father from the burden that is work. At the close of the scene, we see that he has taken on that burden, along with the conviction that he is the new Don Corleone. Having given the viewer that assurance, the scene fades out to the next.

Maria De Jesus Ramos Mendez (Cal ’18) is a senior studying English and Education. She is committed to fulfilling her passion for teaching literature in high school. She has taken up multiple teaching positions in hopes of gaining experience and refining her skills as an educator. When she’s not reading her novels or teaching, she enjoys the company of her husband and their beautiful little girl.
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