FOR MICHAEL CORLEONE
It’s Mafia movie week again, Michael, so I am watching all of the Godfathers, Goodfellas and The Untouchables. Seems like Mafia week is once a month to me—does it to you?
I have to tell you: I feel so incredibly cold and lonely when you are sitting in the porch house alone at the end of Godfather II. I think we all relate to that scene because it reminds us of the loneliness in ourselves. Even if we don’t kill people to force our way in life, we all still do things that alienate the people we love – even to the point of losing them.
But let’s face it: Mostly everyone you knew was killed—either by you, or by someone else. A bullet in the eye, stabbed from groin to throat. You even made Frankie Five Angels kill himself in jail, just to honor you. That’s so cold.
The bullets in your father took a long time to kill him. Only your mother died from old age, making Fredo’s death a certainty. Sadly, Tom and Connie remain alive. But who would want to have them over for dinner? At least Fredo knew his way around Vegas.
There is a flashback to when you enlisted in the marines. Sonny and Fredo are alive; Abe Vigoda brings the cake for your father’s birthday. Sonny hits you in the head because you didn’t take advantage of your deferment or consult with anyone before you enlisted. Instead, you signed up to fight for “strangers”.
Like Macbeth you were presaged to be kingly. And like Macbeth you slaughtered your way to the top, except you were even smarter. You killed a circumference so wide around yourself that you were safe – no one could touch you.
Your first murder: a bullet in the throat of a dirty policeman and one in the head of Solazzo – over dinner – but you didn’t stop there.
Vainer than Lear you closed the door on your wife because she bruised your honor.
Less thoughtful than Hamlet, you didn’t use your stratagems toward a noble end. You didn’t ponder slings and arrows or seas of troubles. You only saw revenge.
But I cry at the end—I cry at the cold world you’ve created. How you had eliminated everyone. You became your power. You became a victim of your own evil.
Like a spider that has spun a web to ensnare its victims, only the spider remains in the web; its victims are at least dead.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 