“One from the Heart” might’ve stood a better chance with mainstream moviegoers had Julia and Kinski turned up earlier in the film. Coppola addresses this issue in “Reprise,” but while his instincts are spot-on, there’s only so much he can do with the available footage.
The big blow-up between Hank and Frannie gets kicked forward into the movie. They’ve encountered their paramours prior to their anniversary dinner spat, which energizes the narrative. But this also underscores the script’s fundamental flaw: Hank and Frannie are never more than archetypes. Dean Tavoularis’ production design is unusually lived-in for a backlot musical, but Forrest and Garr never feel truly at home in the space he’s created. My sense is that they needed more rehearsal time (and probably a dialogue polish) to more comfortably inhabit this intentionally unreal world. But you excuse these shortcomings because, my god, is this a beautiful film.
Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro’s neon-soaked vision of a prefab Vegas is Vincente Minnelli would’ve knocked Nicholas Ray into a sugar coma — which means “One from the Heart” is, per Jean-Luc Godard’s formulation, cinema. Tom Waits’ music conveys the weariness of round-the-clock Vegas. The city pops if you spend a couple of days there, but living there is a 24-7 lie. Then again, so is life, everywhere, all the time. Hank and Frannie just want to carve slivers of happiness here and there. Maybe the house will do the trick. Probably not. But you only go around once, so what’s the harm in dreaming?
Coppola sold his vineyard to dream possibly his final, extravagant dream. I don’t care if “Megalopolis,” the $100-million-plus epic he personally financed, isn’t “Apocalypse Now.” I care that the maestro placed the heaviest of bets to see if that pill might find the right slot one last time.