Megalopolis Christian Review
Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis is a cinematic firestorm—blazing, chaotic, brimming with ambition and ideas that burn hot and fast, sometimes too fast for their own good. You’re either caught up in the blaze or left in the ashes, wondering what just happened. Coppola, who already has a track record of pushing boundaries, takes a sharp turn here into an artistic territory that many would never dare venture into in today’s film industry. This film is intense, baffling, and more than a little bit nuts. Yet, underneath all that frenzy lies a raw passion for filmmaking that simply cannot be denied.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Megalopolis is no easy ride. It’s a sprawling mess of historical allegory, social commentary, and cinematic indulgence, with ideas piling up so fast you can barely catch your breath. And in a world where blockbusters often come prepackaged with a predictable formula, Coppola’s refusal to make anything easy is both refreshing and frustrating.
The Beautiful Madness of Coppola’s Vision
Trying to describe Megalopolis is like trying to explain a dream the morning after—vivid in fragments but elusive when you try to put the whole thing into words. At its core, the film is a loose metaphor for the fall of empires, but with a surreal twist. Set in “New Rome,” a fictionalized, almost mythic city where power is shifting and elites are grappling for control, the film paints a picture of civilization on the brink. Think The Fall of the Roman Empire spliced with the spirit of 1960s experimental cinema.
But of course, Coppola can’t help but poke at more than just history. Megalopolis is also a mirror reflecting the modern-day collapse of the Hollywood system—one that Coppola knows all too well. He has always walked a tightrope between artistic integrity and the constraints of the industry, and this film feels like his final act of defiance. It’s as if he’s saying, “I’ll take my chances on a passion project that may crash and burn because it’s better than playing it safe.”
So, what do you get when you push the boundaries this far? You get a movie that simultaneously captivates and confounds, and therein lies the problem. While Coppola’s vision is vast and daring, it’s also so dense and packed with ideas that it risks collapsing under its own weight. It’s like watching a beautifully constructed tower of blocks wobble—stunning while it stands, but you’re left holding your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it topples.
The Collapse of Empires, Real and Imagined
New Rome—it’s an allegory, yes, but one that’s layered with a thousand metaphors, some of which land beautifully and others that don’t. In a way, Megalopolis is a study of power—what it means to have it, to lose it, and to watch the structures of power crumble around you. There’s a distinct biblical echo here, calling to mind the rise and fall of empires throughout history. We’ve seen it all before—Babylon, Rome, countless others—where the height of human pride precedes a monumental fall. And Coppola knows this.
But he doesn’t stop there. The film also seems to be Coppola’s commentary on Hollywood itself—a system that, much like Rome, has grown bloated and detached from its original purpose. It’s a modern-day empire, one that prioritizes profit over the artistic freedom Coppola so desperately seeks. There’s a lot to unpack here, but the takeaway seems to be this: all empires, whether political or cultural, are destined to fall. As Christians, we know this truth intimately. Earthly kingdoms rise and fall, but God’s Kingdom endures (Daniel 2:44).
That’s where Megalopolis hits something universal—this cautionary tale about the impermanence of human power speaks to our own need to be wary of placing too much trust in systems, structures, or institutions. They’re not the bedrock of our hope. Empires fall, but God’s reign stands forever. If there’s one thing this film leaves you thinking about long after the credits roll, it’s that reality.
Blurring the Line Between Art and Life
One of Megalopolis’ most dazzling moments is when it dares to shatter the boundaries between film and reality. In one sequence, you almost feel like the screen itself is breaking apart—there’s an outpouring of sensory overload that dares the viewer to question where art ends and life begins. It’s risky, it’s audacious, and it’s exactly what Coppola set out to do.
But here’s where it also gets complicated. As Christians, we understand the power of art. It reflects life, it challenges us, it speaks to us in ways words sometimes cannot. But art isn’t life. Megalopolis is beautiful, no doubt—it’s got vision, it’s got heart, and it’s got a passion for film that’s sorely missing from many modern movies. But as much as art can inspire, only God’s truth can transform. No amount of creative energy will ever replace the redemptive power of the Gospel.
This might be where the film loses its footing in a Christian sense. It’s almost as if Coppola believes that film can do everything—that it can bridge the gap between reality and art, between thought and existence. There’s a desire for cinema to be transcendent in Megalopolis, but we know that true transcendence comes from God alone. Art can take us to the brink, but only Christ can carry us across.
Aubrey Plaza, Elites, and a Power Struggle in New Rome
Aubrey Plaza, in this swirling chaos of a movie, is one of the few anchors. Her performance is magnetic, a force of nature that demands attention. Plaza plays one of the elites locked in a power struggle, and she does so with a raw, almost feral intensity. There’s a sense of desperation in her character, like she’s fighting for more than just control—she’s fighting for relevance, for survival in a crumbling world. It’s a battle that reflects the larger themes of the film: what do we do when the structures around us start to fall apart? Who do we become when everything we’ve known is taken from us?
In the Bible, we see these kinds of power struggles play out again and again. But Scripture reminds us that human ambition, unchecked, always leads to ruin (James 4:1-3). Plaza’s character embodies that drive—relentless, at times even ruthless—but in a world where everything is slipping away, what does all that striving accomplish? Her performance is a powerful reflection of the futility of human ambition when it’s divorced from eternal purpose.
Coppola’s Artistic Defiance
So where does this leave us? Megalopolis is not an easy film to watch, and it’s certainly not easy to review. It’s flawed, it’s messy, and it’s overambitious. But it’s also a film bursting with heart, with the kind of artistic bravery that’s sorely lacking in today’s cinema landscape. Coppola isn’t just making a movie; he’s making a statement, one that demands to be heard even if it’s a bit garbled in the process.
From a Christian perspective, Megalopolis offers a sobering reminder of the impermanence of earthly power and the futility of placing our hope in human institutions. Empires rise and fall, but God’s Kingdom endures. Art, as powerful as it is, can only reflect that truth—it cannot create it.
Final Thoughts: An Imperfect Masterpiece
Is Megalopolis perfect? No. It’s too messy to be that. But it’s also a bold, beautiful mess, one that’s worth seeing if only to witness Coppola’s undying passion for cinema. It’s a film that challenges, confounds, and—at its best—soars. In the end, it’s more about the journey than the destination, more about the experience than the resolution.
Final Rating: 7/10
