Food on Film - Corleones And Poison Cannoli’s
Mention food in film and all roads lead to gangster movies, and inevitably The Godfather. Possibly one of the greatest films of all time, Francis Ford Coppola’s epic depiction of Mario Puzo’s novels needs no introduction. Any sick day or Sunday on the couch nursing a monumental hangover can be remedied by a solid lock-in session with the Don.
My first thoughts were that this would be an accessible article to write, and to some extent, it should be, but it was only when I began watching Part I that I realised how big a part food plays in the actual narrative of the film, as opposed to classed as mere set props. We know that food is essential to Italians, so often, it’s used to represent them and their culture on screen. Settling down to watch the trilogy for the umpteenth time, what quickly became apparent was just how important food is as a characterisation of Italians.
Throughout the films, Coppola uses food to stamp an ethnic authenticity on the story. Still, food also shows the Corleones as first and foremost a family unit, with their status as a global crime mob seemingly second to this dynamic. Food is what binds the family together in trust, but it can also be a vessel to kill. We’ll get to that shortly.
To understand the significance of food in these films, one must only look at how often it appears in some of the most seminal moments. Throughout the nine hours of viewing, food is never far in the background and is often ingrained within the vital plot and action scenes that underlie the story.
Possibly one of the most iconic and easily recognised scenes of all time features Fat Clemenza and some of the other ‘family’ men ‘going to the mattresses’ after hitting Sollozzo in retaliation for the assassination attempt on the Don. Clemenza takes the opportunity to show Michael how to prepare a Bolognese sauce because “you might have to cook for 20 guys sometime”.
With a makeshift tea towel apron shoved into his trousers, he explains that you “start with a little oil, then you fry some garlic, throw in your tomatoes and tomato paste and fry it, making sure it doesn’t stick. Next, you add your sausage and meatballs, add wine and a little sugar, and that’s my trick.” The bugger knows how to cook: follow his recipe, and you will finish with a fantastic sauce. (It’s worth noting that this recipe came to light 18 years before the classic sauce detailed in Goodfellas.)
The cannoli is a delicate Sicilian dessert made from pastry dough, often lined with chocolate, filled with a cream filling, and garnished with a candied orange peel. It makes its first ill-fated cameo when our generously proportioned family man, Clemenza, takes Paulie for a ride to whack him for selling out the Don.
Just how vital cannoli are to Clemenza is evident when he steps from the car to allow Rocco the opportunity to execute Pauli before instructing him to “leave the gun, take the cannoli”. The delicate pastry is seemingly more important than leaving behind the smoking gun; a good thing that forensics didn’t exist back then.
But it’s some eight hours later in Part III of the trilogy that these little treats are elevated from accessory to murder to actual murder. To a real murder weapon. When Connie Corleone adds just a hint of arsenic to one and gifts one to Don Altobello, he eats the poison cannoli at the opera and quickly dies. That’ll teach the traitor.
In Part I, the men sit together eating Chinese food, waiting for the tip-off on the location for the meeting between Michael, Solozzo and the police chief. A pending murder in a public place can never come before dinner. When they get the tip that it’s to be at Louis Diner in the Bronx, Tessio knows the business and its reputation: “It’s perfect for us, quiet family-run place, good food.”
It’s apparent that while they may be criminals and are about to gun down two people, at least they’ll do it where the fare is reasonable. At the table, meeting underway, Solozzo tells the police chief to “try the veal; it’s the best in the city”. He did seem to be enjoying it right before he took a bullet in the throat and forehead (Does anyone else find it strange how long he remains animated before collapsing over the table, given he just took two shots in the head??)
None could be more significant than the humble orange of all the foods that make their presence felt in this epic saga. In the opening scene of Part I, Vern Tessio chooses a ripe specimen at Connie’s wedding; perhaps its significance goes unnoticed. Vito Corleone is picking oranges from a street stall moments before his attempted assassination, the bag spilling its contents across the road as the big man is brought down in a volley of shots.
The Don didn’t seem to take this as an omen, though. Later in the film, while playing with his grandson in the garden, the boss cuts a piece of peel and fashions it into a mouthpiece, only to have a heart attack and collapse in his bed of very abundant, plump tomatoes. I take some comfort in this: I imagine that if you asked an Italian how they want to die, I think surrounded by tomatoes would be their ultimate exit.
In part II, we see the young Vito (played by DeNiro) gifted a bag of oranges from a street vendor as the first recognition of his stature within the community. The orange continues to play its role in Part III when Michael peels an orange as he, Tom Hagen and his bodyguard discuss how to eradicate the exiled Hyman Roth. When meeting with Don Tommasino, we see Vincent fondling the fruit like some sensual testicular examination as they discuss the Corleone family giving up its quest for legitimacy to return to being a murderous crime family. (It should be noted here that Vincent, over a batch of equally sensual gnocchi, commits incest with his cousin).
Further, in episode III, Don Altobello tosses an orange to the son of Mosca after discussing yet another assassination of the Godfather. And coincidently, like father like son, the final scene in the trilogy sees Michael Corleone collapse in his chair and die alone, a single orange falling from his hand. Will they ever learn?
There are plenty of other food-related references throughout the three films; from Sicilian messages involving sleeping with the fishes to sitting around the dinner table casually discussing, or re-grouping from, murderous rampages, the very presence of food and meals at significant decision-making moments shows the Cosa Nostra to be more human and ultimately very, very likeable.
