The Godfather Part II at 50

Al Pacino is brilliant as Michael Corleone.  The new "Godfather" emerges and he is tragic.

The Godfather Part II is the greatest motion picture sequel ever made.  It is so great that it surpasses the original film.  It has the distinction of being the only sequel in film history to win the Best Picture Oscar following its prior film (The Godfather) also winning Best Picture.  In this review I'll try to explain why. The movie is unique in its narrative structure, simultaneously telling two interconnected stories: the continued saga of Michael Corleone (played brilliantly by Al Pacino) and the origin story of his father Vito Corleone (portrayed by a very young Robert De Niro in his breakout role.  His classic Taxi Driver performance would come two years later).

What makes The Godfather Part II particularly remarkable is how it expands on themes from the first film while becoming its own, distinct film, offering a profound exploration of family, power, and the American immigrant experience. The parallel narratives—Michael's descent into moral corruption in the late 1950s and Vito's rise from a young immigrant to a powerful Don in the early 1900s—create a sophisticated, multi-generational portrait of the Corleone family.

Michael refuses his sister's, Connie (Talia Shire), request for money to marry a man of which Michael does not approve.  There are a number of darkly lit scenes throughout the film which support and amplify its aesthetic impact.

In the early 1990's Robert De Niro holds his firstborn son, Sonny, in the paralleling narrative of the film.

There are a limited number of action sequences in the film.  This street skirmish in broad daylight is one of them.

In this film we get to witness Michael's rise to power, becoming evermore ensnared in the web of being the new “Godfather.”  In this way it examines the world created and depicted in The Godfather but in greater depth and tragedy. We also see how Vito became the original Godfather which allows the film to surprisingly loop around the first film even though the two stories are decades apart. Like much of Part One, Part Two is told through various scenes around tables, usually with family, sometimes with “businessmen” and through the unmitigated use of murder to accomplish whatever is necessary to "do business." Vito's beginning is similar to Michael's as revealed in the first film, only it is far more complicated as told in the sequel.

Michael's trajectory in Part Two is particularly devastating. Unlike his father Vito, who initially sought power as a means of protection and survival for his family, Michael, though operating from the same motives, becomes increasingly ruthless, culminating in powerful scenes where he orders the murder of his own brother Fredo and where we witness the surprising breakdown of his marriage. The film meticulously shows how the manipulative use of power corrupts, transforming Michael from the idealistic war hero of the first film to a cold, isolated figure who has sacrificed everything—including his family—for the sake of maintaining control.

The contrast between Vito's and Michael's paths is masterfully stark. Vito's rise is driven by a kind of principled survival and includes a strong element of community protection. He uses violence, yes, but with a sense of honor and necessity. Michael, by contrast, uses violence as a pure instrument of control, losing any pretense of a moral compass in the process. The table scenes are crucial to this—they transcend mere business into the performance of power, the manipulative negotiations of threat and loyalty.

De Niro's portrayal of the young Vito is particularly remarkable. He captures the essence of Marlon Brando's performance from the first film while creating a subtle, genuine character of his own—showing Vito's transformation from a vulnerable immigrant to a powerful Don, driven by a kind of protective instinct for his community.

The integration of the two stories is marvelous. One of the threads that connects them is family and, more specifically, sons. When Michael leaves his family for a "business trip" his son, a mere child, wants to help him and Michael tells him one day he will. At that moment, the film cuts to show us Vito at the time of Sonny's birth, his firstborn. Later we see Fredo, who appropriately enough has pneumonia and is thereby signified as weak, and finally Michael being held by the Vito as the young dad progresses in his ride to becoming the Godfather.

The film masterfully weaves generational connections through these subtle yet powerful moments. The contrast between Michael's relationship with his own son and his fraught relationship with Fredo creates a haunting meditation on family legacy.

The scene with Michael's son wanting to help him is particularly poignant because it reveals the cyclical nature of power and family expectation. Michael's noncommittal "one day" response to his child's desire to help suggests both the weight of inheritance and his own ambivalence about passing on his dangerous legacy. This is juxtaposed brilliantly with the scenes of Vito's early family life, where we see a more protective, nurturing vision of fatherhood (though we also see Vito commit brutal murders during this time frame).

The symbolic weakness of Fredo - highlighted by his illness as an infant - is a strong narrative device. He represents a kind of familial failure that contrasts with Michael's cold efficiency and Vito's strategic strength. The pneumonia is more than just a physical condition; it's a metaphorical representation of Fredo's inability to command respect or power within the family structure.

The image of the young Vito holding Michael is particularly loaded with meaning - it's almost a prophecy of the path Michael will ultimately take, a moment of potential innocence long before the corruption of power takes hold.  This special warm moment of early childhood bonding is actually the chilling foundation for all that Michael ends up doing in Part Two, almost in the name of his father who he mentions many times throughout the film.

Francis Ford Coppola's direction in The Godfather Part II is truly masterful.  This is a great example of why he is one of my all-time favorite directors. He creates a film that is not just a loyal sequel to his brilliant previous film, but a profound expansion of the original's themes. The way he interweaves two timelines - Vito's origin story and Michael's continued ascending descent - is a remarkable feat of storytelling that requires immense directorial skill.

Al Pacino's performance is extraordinary. His portrayal of Michael Corleone is a study in gradual transformation, showing how a principled man can become completely corrupted by power. The subtlety with which he reveals Michael's inner turmoil - the growing coldness, the increasing isolation - is nothing short of brilliant. The eventual murder of Fredo (and all of his “enemies”) and his confrontation with his wife over losing “his” baby are among the most chilling moments in cinema history.

Robert Duvall brings a steady, grounding presence as Tom Hagen. He's the rational counterpoint to the more volatile characters, providing a kind of moral perspective within the criminal world. His performance is mostly subdued and restrained, which makes him a perfect foil to Pacino's intense Michael.  For this reason, his reasonable counsel is also shunned by Michael as the film progresses.

De Niro's portrayal of the young Vito Corleone is remarkable, delivering almost all his lines in Sicilian.  In this sense, Part Two sometimes feels like a foreign film, which is intentional, of course. He doesn't simply imitate Marlon Brando's marvelous Part One performance (through hand gestures, facial expressions and “I'll make him an offer he can't refuse” - a rare line in English), but he creates a fully realized, distinct, younger version of that iconic character. His performance captures Vito's dignity, his strategic mind, and the protective instincts that drive him to become a powerful figure in his community. De Niro won an Academy Award for this role, and it's easy to see why.

The combination of Coppola's direction and these extraordinary performances makes The Godfather Part II not just a great film, but a cinematic masterpiece that easily ranks a “10” rating on my scale and certainly one of my Top 25 films ever.  Coppola's approach is almost antithetical to the frenetic editing style of many contemporary films. Instead, he allows scenes to breathe, to develop organically, creating a sense of immersive tension that's far more psychological than action-driven.  The film creates a lot of space and silence in many scenes allowing the actors to create tension and achieving what Andrei Tarkovsky would call "time-pressure" in the presentation of its suspense and the telling of the story. 

There are numerous "table" scenes throughout the film.  Many deal with family and meals.  This one is a business deal in pre-Castro Cuba.

It's not all dark and tragic.  There is some pageantry in the movie as well.  This is a stage performance in Havana.

New Year's Eve in Havana.

Michael discovers that his brother Fredo (John Cazale), unwittingly perhaps, betrayed him and almost got him killed.  He gives Fredo "the kiss of death" and the New Year's Eve party.  But he spares Fredo's life until the end of the film.  He's family.

The film often uses dialogue sparingly. Many scenes rely on visual storytelling and the actors' subtle expressions. The silent moments - particularly those involving Michael - are incredibly powerful, allowing the audience to read the psychological state of the characters without explicit exposition.   

These moments are laden with unspoken meaning, with the actors' subtle gestures and micro-expressions carrying enormous dramatic weight. Take, for instance, the scenes between Michael and his wife Kay (Diane Keaton), or Michael's interactions with his family members and business associates - there's a deliberate slowness that allows the audience to feel the psychological tension building.

This pacing serves multiple narrative purposes. The methodical nature of power and decision-making in the criminal world is a primary one. Each conversation, each glance, each moment of silence becomes a potential threat or revelation. The film doesn't rush to explain or resolve; instead, it allows the complexity of human motivation to unfold slowly and deliberately.  The decision of kill Fredo, for example, happens long after Michael discovers his brother's betrayal that led to the it.  Initially, he seeks out Fredo to bring back into the fold because “he's still family.”

The minimal editing also creates a sense of documentary-like realism. We're not simply watching a dramatization, but seemingly observing real lives unfolding in real time. This approach makes the film's dramatic moments - when they do come - all the more powerful because they emerge from this carefully constructed atmosphere of tension and anticipation.

I noticed with my latest viewing that the proportion of single-shots and close-ups is enormous. It is actually an exception to have more than one character in frame in many scenes. Any moment featuring multiple characters tends to focus only on the most important ones individually rather than two-shots or wider angles. Of course, there are establishing shots and plenty of two-shots but once any scene is visually mapped the focus almost always turns to individuals, with Michael being the primary focus, of course. 

The predominance of the single-shot technique creates a sense of psychological pressure. Each character, especially Michael, is essentially isolated within their own frame, suggesting the weight of their individual choices and moral compromises. When multiple characters are in a scene, the editing typically moves between individual perspectives rather than showing them together, which amplifies the sense of psychological distance.

This approach is particularly effective with Michael. Pacino's extraordinarily refined performance can carry entire scenes through micro-expressions, eye movements and other subtle shifts in his facial expressions. The single-shot technique allows the audience to read these minute emotional changes with incredible intimacy.

Gordon Willis's cinematography features dark, shadowy compositions that further emphasize this sense of isolation, with characters often appearing partially obscured, suggesting the moral ambiguity and psychological complexity of their situations.  In The Godfather, the cinematography, while still dark and shadowy (courtesy of Willis), has a more communal feel. There are more group shots, more scenes that emphasize family gatherings, discussions around tables (though there are plenty of these in Part Two as well), and collective decision-making. The visual language reflects the first film's focus on family as a collective entity, with characters often sharing the frame, communicating, and interacting.

By contrast, Part Two completely deconstructs that visual approach. The single-shot technique becomes a visual metaphor for the breakdown of family and community. Where the first film showed the Corleone family as a kind of tight-knit, albeit criminal, unit, the second film shows each character - especially Michael - as fundamentally isolated.  Rather than revealing to us the decision-making process as in Part One, decisions are made without anything being revealed to the audience except the end result of them.  They seem to occur spontaneously rather than organically.

The first film's cinematography had a kind of dark romanticism - shadows and darkness, yes, but with a sense of familial warmth underneath. The Godfather Part II strips away that warmth completely. Michael is often framed in ways that emphasize his isolation - large, empty spaces around him, stark lighting that highlights his increasing emotional emptiness.

This visual style supports the narrative arc. Whereas, the first film is about a family maintaining its power, the second film is about how that power destroys the very concept of family.  The first film has a more traditional narrative structure, with a more linear progression of the Corleone family's story. It focuses primarily on Vito Corleone's established criminal empire and Michael's reluctant transformation from war hero to mafia leader. The pacing is more dynamic, with more frequent edits. Scenes like the restaurant shooting or Sonny's assassination are more overtly dramatic and action-oriented.

In contrast, the second film is more contemplative and architectonic. The parallel narratives create a more complex temporal landscape. Where the first film shows the mechanics of power, the second film explores the psychological and moral consequences of that power. The editing in Part Two is more deliberate, with longer takes that allow tension to build through silence and subtle performances.

The young Vito Corleone watches as Fredo is attended to.  He has pneumonia, which symbolizes the weakness of his character.  Fredo basically becomes the flunky of the family and he resents it.

Vito makes his first deal on his path to becoming a Don.

He personally commits various murders necessary to establish his power and to protect the interests of his family and the community of Little Italy.  Here, he wraps his handgun in a towel to muffle the sound of the shot.

Vito holds baby Michael, his third son.

Vito settles a disagreement between a landlord and a lady who has come to him for help.  Using power to aid the community was part of Vito's MO.  Not so with Michael.  Different times for sure.

The performances also differ subtly. In the first film, Marlon Brando's Vito is a more mythic figure - almost Shakespearean in his gravitas. In Part Two, De Niro creates a more human, more vulnerable portrayal of the young Vito. Similarly, Pacino's performance evolves from the conflicted Michael of the first film to the completely cold, isolated figure of the second.

Vito's narrative in Part Two shows a principled survival - a man who becomes powerful as a means of protecting his family and community while furthering his financial gain. We see him methodically building his power base in Little Italy, driven by a sense of communal justice and familial protection. His murders are calculated but with a kind of moral framework despite their abject brutality. These murders are a response to oppression, creating a system of protection for immigrants who are otherwise vulnerable.  And for Vito's continuing “justice” within that system.

In stark contrast, Michael's narrative reveals the complete moral bankruptcy of that same power system. Where Vito's actions were fundamentally protective or assertive, Michael's are purely about maintaining power and control. His world is one of paranoia, betrayal, and isolation. The parallel structure allows us to see how the system Vito carefully constructed has now become a machine that destroys its own children - quite literally, in Michael's case, as he becomes willing to sacrifice his own family members.

The intercutting between these two timelines is not just a narrative technique, but a philosophical argument. We're watching the transformation of an immigrant's survival strategy into a corrupt system of pure power. The visual and tonal similarities between the two narratives - the dark cinematography, the measured pacing, the importance of family - make the moral divergence even more pronounced.  Each timeline illuminates the other. Vito's principled rise makes Michael's descent even more tragic. We see the idealistic origins of the Corleone family power, and then we watch how that same power ultimately destroys the foundation upon which Vito tried to build.

I have never seen a character's descent into the isolation while gaining and exercising power better portrayed than in The Godfather Part II, making it such an extraordinary character study. Michael's progression is a masterful portrayal of moral disintegration and psychological isolation.

Throughout the film, we watch Michael systematically eliminate every meaningful human connection in his life. His relationship with Kay becomes completely fractured. He loses his brother Fredo to his own ruthless code of honor, ordering his execution. His step-brother becomes just another tool for his use.  His children become mere potential extensions of his power rather than emotional connections. Even his political and business associates are viewed purely as strategic assets or potential threats.  

The isolation is not just relational, but spiritual. Pacino's performance is remarkable in how he shows this emerging estrangement through increasingly minimalist expressions. His face becomes a mask of calculated manipulation and control, with less and less humanity showing through. By the film's end, Michael is essentially alone - powerful beyond measure, but completely cut off from any genuine human warmth.  He literally ends up with no emotional connection to anyone.

This descent is made more tragic by the contrast with his father Vito's paralleling story. Vito's power was always in service to others in addition to his family. Michael's power becomes an end in itself, consuming everything - and everyone - around him.

Michael is called to testify before a Senate committee on organized crime.  Kay sits behind him.  Framed to the left is his step-brother and family's attorney, Tom Hayden.  The supporting cast is among the best ever assembled.

Another example of darkness, this time a backlit scene with Michael and Fredo silhouetted where Fredo attempts to explain that he did not understand the circumstances of his "betrayal." He also rages at Michael that he deserved a greater role in family's business dealings.  Fredo has a knack for bad timing.  This only feeds Michael's contempt for him.

Kay wants out.  She wants to take the children with her.  Michael forbids this and promises to change...

...until she reveals that she did not have a miscarriage.  She sought an abortion because she could not bear the thought of bringing another child of his into the world.  This close-up of Pacino's reaction is one of the most powerful performances I've ever witnessed in any film.

I think Pacino's facial reaction during “the abortion scene” with Keaton is one of the most powerful moments I've ever witnessed from any actor.  What we thought was a miscarriage, we discover was actually his wife terminating a future son.  This is unconscionable to Michael, even with his sordid past of murder.  Pacino's sudden, powerful change of expression (in a well framed close-up, of course) is a truly remarkable moment of acting.  He looks like he wants to use his eyes to kill his wife.  But he slaps her and pushes her down instead.  As with the Fredo killing, family is everything, which fractures Michael's very being.  This is captured vividly on screen.  For me, it is one of the most electrifying dramatic moments in cinema history.  

Pacino creates a stunning image for us to watch. There's rage, betrayal, a kind of dead-eyed hatred, but also a bizarre adherence to some twisted code of familial preservation. Unlike with Fredo, however, he won't kill Kay, but he will violate her physically to reassert his power, even though he is powerless against what has happened. It's a moment that encapsulates Michael's entire moral descent - he's become a monster who preserves the form of family while destroying its actual substance.

This scene is a microcosm of the film's profound exploration of power, family, and moral decay. Michael's reaction to Kay's abortion represents the ultimate betrayal of the very thing he claims to be protecting: the Corleone family lineage.  What's most devastating is the contrast with his father Vito's original understanding of family. Vito saw family as something to be protected, nurtured, loved. For Michael, family has become a prison - for his wife and children and for himself. His inability to truly connect, to show genuine emotion, is embodied in this moment of controlled violence.

It is interesting to me that in The Godfather we saw Michael step up into his role by committing murder when required. What we don't see is how much like his father he was in those moments. In contrast, as he gains power, Michael is no longer directly involved in murder, he simply orders it done. In The Godfather: Part II we see Vito was exactly the same way when he was younger. Murdering his way into greater power where he would, in Part One, no longer need to be directly involved. 

To that extend, Part Two is not only the sequel to Part One but the prequel to it as well.  Though ultimately tragic and dark, the parallel between Vito's and Michael's methods of acquiring and maintaining power is one of the most rewarding aspects of the film's narrative structure.  At the time of its release in 1974, the idea of a sequel that simultaneously told an origin story and continued the previous narrative was revolutionary. No other film had so successfully used parallel timelines to create such a rich, multi-generational narrative. 

As we have seen, Vito's rise is driven by a kind of protective instinct. Michael's succession, by contrast, represents the corruption of that original impulse. Where Vito's power was fundamentally about family protection and financial influence, Michael's becomes about pure power for the sake of power itself. In this way, the generational transfer of power becomes a kind of tragic inheritance. Michael perverts the very system Vito created which is a broader aspect of the film's tragedy.

In the end, we come back to something that belongs to the prequel, just before the first film.  We are treated to another table scene involving family.  Coppola brings back James Caan to reprise his role as Sonny, Vito's oldest son and heir apparent to the Godfather.  Abe Vigoda also returns to play Tessio, just to give the scene added flavor.  It is Vito's birthday and they are preparing a cake.  Coppola wanted to bring Brando back for a brief appearance, too, but the actor refused.  

Michael announces that he has volunteered for the Marines at the beginning of World War Two.  Ever short-fused and passionate, Sonny almost hits Michael upon hearing the news.  Tom tells Michael that he and Vito have spoken frequently about his future in the family.  Michael takes exception to this, doesn't like other people deciding his future, even his step-brother and father.  This is a taste of Michael's fierce sense of independence.  

The short scene concludes with everyone leaving the room to welcome Vito home for his birthday.  Everyone except Michael, who is remains at the table.  Alone.  In this way the scene also shows Michael has always had a sense of isolation, which, of course, explodes to gigantic proportions when he, against his wishes, becomes the next Godfather.

It's a heartbreaking remembrance of a fork in the road with Michael at the cusp of establishing his individual identity before he becomes completely consumed by the family's criminal enterprise.  That was supposed to be Sonny's place.  But Sonny was murdered and Michael avenges this, stepping into Sonny's shoes, so to speak (Fredo is too “weak” mentally and emotionally to do it, which is a fundamental source of tension).  Unlike the rest of Part Two, this scene is predominantly shot with the whole table in view with few cutaways, more like the style of the the first film.  Then we cut to the final tragic shot of the older, isolated Michael sitting alone on a random park bench, pondering his past.  The end.

Well, not quite.  What I haven't mentioned is that at the beginning of the film Michael and Kay are both almost assassinated one night from horrific gunfire through their bedroom window.  Remarkably, both survive unscathed.  This is a critical plot point because it starts the wheel in motion that ultimately leads Michael down his scorched-earth path of destruction.  In some basic sense it started as survival and protection for himself and his family.  Had he peacefully gone to sleep with Kay that night things might have turned out differently.  Perhaps that is part of what Michael is considering in the end, alone on a bench in a practically deserted city park.

Fredo is fishing and saying his "Hail Marys" just before he is murdered on orders from his brother.  They just had their mother's funeral, which explains Fredo's prayer. The film suggests that. after his betrayal, Michael only let him live because of his mother. Upon her death, he dies.

In a marvelous flashback table shot, Sonny (James Caan) and Tassio (Abe Vigoda) return for a brief reprise of their roles from the first film.  Connie is standing at the cake.  Tom and Fredo are there too.  It is Vito's birthday.  Michael tells them he has just joined the Marines at the beginning of World War Two.  It is a remembrance of the beginnings of Michael living an independent life, of forging his own path, before Sonny's murder and Vito's death altered Michael's course forever.  He remains at the table alone as everyone leaves the room to greet Vito coming home.  It is symbolic of his coming isolation as it unfolded throughout the film.  Michael becomes a dark and tragic character but the roots of it all are plainly here for everyone to see.

The Godfather features a meme-caliber line: "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse."  Part Two contains a similar meme-like line.  It is delivered when Michael says to Frankie Pentangeli (played superbly by Michael V. Gazzo), "My father taught me many things here — he taught me in this room. He taught me — keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

The quote is a strategic piece of advice about power, manipulation, and survival. It suggests that by keeping your enemies near, you can gain the necessary leverage to deal with threats before they happen.  But in this film it becomes something Vito did not necessarily intend.

It represents Michael's cold, calculated approach to power, survival and minipulation. He views relationships not through emotional bonds, but as strategic chess moves where keeping potential threats close allows for better control and potential neutralization. Ironically, he ends up failing to keep his own family close, becoming increasingly isolated despite his strategic brilliance. His enemies are indeed close, but so are the personal betrayals that ultimately destroy his family and soul.

As an interesting side note: Like most of the supporting cast, Gazzo delivered a memorable performance.  He was actually nominated for the Best Supporting Actor Academy Award, along with De Niro, who deservedly won it.

I stated at the beginning The Godfather Part II is the greatest sequel ever made.  It arguably surpasses its predecessor in depth, complexity, and cinematic artistry. The film's innovative narrative structure creates a profound generational commentary that the first film could not achieve. By intercutting these two storylines, Coppola develops a meticulous exploration of power, family, and the American immigrant experience that is far more sophisticated than the original film's more linear narrative.

Thematically, Part Two is more ambitious. It deconstructs the romantic mythology of the first film, showing how the "family business" destroys familial bonds rather than protects them. The Senate hearing scenes, the sequences in Cuba, and the avalanche of devastating personal betrayals make Part Two a more intellectually and emotionally complex work that transcends genre limitations.  This film is a magnificent but tragic epic that reveals how the very system designed to protect and elevate a family can ultimately destroy it from within.

Some critics consider The Godfather Part II the finest American film of the 1970s - a decade renowned for extraordinary cinema. Perhaps its greatest distinction is something I mentioned in the beginning but bears repeating. It is the only sequel to win the Best Picture Oscar following its predecessor winning that same award.  The Return of the King (2003) is the only other sequel to ever win Best Picture but neither of the first two films in that marvelous trilogy won that award.

It won a total of six Oscars at the 47th Academy Awards in 1975. In addition to Best Picture, it took home Best Director for Coppola, Best Supporting Actor for De Niro, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Art Direction, and Best Original Dramatic Score.  De Niro's win was particularly significant, as he was the first actor to win an Academy Award for a primarily non-English speaking performance. His portrayal of the young Vito speaking mostly in Sicilian was groundbreaking.  

It is hard to believe Al Pacino did not win the Best Actor award.  Neither did Jack Nicholson for Chinatown, another strong contender.  Instead, that award went to Art Carney for his performance in Harry and Tonto, an actor and film no one remembers today.  I liked Carney, but come on.  He was not in the same league as these other two outstanding actors.

At the Golden Globe Awards, the film was equally triumphant. It won Best Motion Picture - Drama, Best Director for Coppola, Best Supporting Actor for De Niro, and Best Screenplay. The film dominated the major categories that year, receiving widespread critical acclaim in addition to being a box office hit.  The New York Film Critics Circle Awards also recognized the film's excellence, awarding it Best Picture and Best Director. 

These awards further solidified the film's status as a critical masterpiece.  Multiple back-to-back Best Picture awards for Coppola is a feat that has few peers (the pioneering director John Ford being one).  Coppola also won back-to-back Best Director Golden Globe's for both pictures as well as the same awards from the New York Film Critics and the Directors Guild of America.  Coppola was on fire in his mastery of his craft.  (Throw in 1979's Apocalypse Now and you have three of the greatest movies ever made inside a mere seven year span.  Extraordinary!)

The film's success was not just about awards, but about Coppola's profound artistic achievement. It redefined what a sequel could be, transforming the idea from a simple continuation of a story to a complex, multi-layered exploration of power, family, and the American experience. Its impact on cinema was far more significant than even this large collection of awards could fully capture.

Today it enjoys excellent critic/audience ratings on Rotten Tomatoes of 96% and 97% respectively.  It ranks No. 4 all-time on the IMDB's Top 250 films (The Godfather is No. 2).  Quite strong credentials.  Anyone who sees this fascinating picture for the first time will be taken in by its power and its heart-rending tragedy.  This only grows with more viewings.  With staying-power like that, one can truly say this film is a timeless tale.  It not earns a place in my Top 25 films list and I'd even pick it as one of my Top 10 movies of all time.

The Godfather Part II premiered in New York City on December 12, 1974.  It premiered nationwide 50 years ago today.

(Written with assistance from Claude.)

Here is a recap and summary of the 200+ minute film in 12 and half minutes.

CBS Saturday Morning celebrates the film's 50th anniversary.

An interesting psychological analysis of Michael is here.

Watch an excellent very detailed analysis of the film here.  You'll learn something.  I know I did. 

This is a great list of actual clips from the film. 

The outstanding screenplay is a masterclass in how to write a film.  

Why Part Two is better than the original film.

Why The Godfather Part II is the greatest sequel of all time.