Word has it that Brando wasn't happy with the movie, but it's hard to see why. Bergman's ham-fisted humor hits the mark a lot more of the time than usual, the ensemble cast is fine (Matthew Broderick is always best in these kinds of settings, at least when it comes to movies), and the one major anachronistic gaffe (no mafia boss would have a photo of Mussolini in a place of honor on the wall - he locked 'em up and they hated him) is harmless in context.
But Brando is what makes the movie special: like a sprinkling of something heavenly on an otherwise earthbound enterprise. He's done far more brilliant work elsewhere, of course, but I can't think of another movie that caught just what a uniquely odd presence he was.
I'll say it again: As graceful and charming a performance as he ever gave. RIP, big man.
But Brando is what makes the movie special: like a sprinkling of something heavenly on an otherwise earthbound enterprise. He's done far more brilliant work elsewhere, of course, but I can't think of another movie that caught just what a uniquely odd presence he was.
I'll say it again: As graceful and charming a performance as he ever gave. RIP, big man.