Sicily as a Metaphysical Dreamscape in The Godfather Part I
The Godfather Part I, regarded by many as the greatest film ever created, uses the location of Sicily as a fleeting realm of purity, romance, and bliss that exists entirely in contrast to the cynical reality of New York and the United States writ large. When protagonist Michael Corleone escapes to Sicily after committing his first murder, the film’s tone shifts abruptly, with the violent, dark content intrinsically tied to America giving way to golden light, open landscapes, and a peaceful Italian narrative.
Michael initially perceives Italy as separate from the depraved mafia and American moral decay; still, once the Barzini family transcends these physical boundaries to cause him destruction, his illusion is shattered altogether. The thoughtful, Ivy League-educated man, staunch in his morality, becomes the calculating patriarch of the Corleone empire that he once so fervently rejected. As he settles into his new role throughout the rest of the film, Michael increasingly embraces the ruthlessness and cynicism characteristic of the New York setting. Through this lens, the Sicilian interlude can be interpreted as a pessimistic commentary on the pervasiveness of darkness in the world and the inescapability of one’s origin.
This jarring change in setting and pace effectively removes Michael from the classic crime Mafia film The Godfather once was, until his move, which inserts him into a serene folktale. But, much to Michael’s dismay, this tranquility is futile; it is a mere fantasy that collapses, permanently altering his psyche, fully propelling him into the criminal world he once adamantly resisted.
Filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola strategically constructs this cinematic fantasy world through juxtaposing shots of Italy and the United States to further elucidate the dreamlike nature of Michael’s experience in Sicily. The Godfather’s early New York setting is that of a traditional mobster film, complete with claustrophobic shots, gunfire, yelling, and questionable ethics. Even before Michael’s seismic murder of police officers Sollozzo and McCluskey, the mood is bleak and oppressive. Notably, upon his introduction in the movie, Michael describes feeling a disconnect from this very environment and its accompanying lifestyle, which he finds reprehensible and burdensome. Even so, his loyalty endures, driving Michael to commit his first act of violence in an effort to avenge his father’s attempted murder and forcing him to flee to Sicily for an unknown period of time. Yet, because of Michael’s sense of disconnect from his family, his exile becomes an escape, and the Sicilian fantasy is accordingly born.
The first moments in Italy are tonally dramatic, featuring Michael as he travels on foot through the hills with his two bodyguards; the shadowy, dark imagery of rain-slicked New York streets gives way to vast pastoral landscapes and warm, sunny villages of Sicily. The score slows from intense, melodic pangs to the romantic lull of Nino Rota’s theme. And, the fast-paced modernity of New York City is replaced by a simpler, traditional existence.
Within this idyllic new setting, Michael’s courtship of the Sicilian village girl Apollonia unfolds like a charming fairytale. In spite of their language barrier and dissimilar backgrounds, Michael and Apollonia become instantly enamored with one another after locking eyes, and shortly after, marry in a picturesque Italian wedding. This dreamlike beauty of Coppola’s Sicily is deliberately deceptive, intended to appear pure to the audience and Michael alike. Michael projects a fantasy of redemption and freedom onto it. Having finally proven himself worthy to the family he feels out of place in, Michael believes he can distance himself from them and the New York mobster scene. His love for Apollonia serves as an extension of this fantasy as she embodies the simplicity, innocence, and potential for a new, joyous life.
Meanwhile, Coppola reminds the audience of the reality that Michael is so desperately attempting to escape. Spliced between scenes of Michael and Appolonia’s romance unfolding in Sicily are scenes of the Corleone family in America. From power struggles to domestic violence to unscrupulous business deals, these fragments accentuate the chaotic debauchery that Michael has temporarily left behind in New York. These crosscuts expose the calmness of Sicily as illusory, a truth that Michael Corleone only comes to truly understand at the end of his roughly two and a half year stay.
In a climactic moment that feels inevitable but still shocking in its delivery, Appollonia dies before Michael’s eyes in a car bombing orchestrated by the rival Barzini crime family. As his new bride explodes, so too does Michael’s fantasy of Italy and the innocence that it sustained. This turning point marks a shift in Michael’s psychology for the remainder of the trilogy.
Ultimately, the Sicilian landscape in The Godfather represents an idealized fantasy of contentment, making it a metaphysical mirage that allows Michael to believe that he can escape the harsh reality of the life he was born into. Coppola’s cinematic techniques and Michael’s character trajectory in tandem reveal that the Sicilian Fairytale was purely fictitious, a reflection of the world Michael wished for but could never attain. Thus, the poignant tragedy of The Godfather lies in Michael Corleone’s realization that Italy is nothing more than a dreamscape; he can never truly flee the world that made him.