Tucker: The Man and His Dream

Francis Ford Coppola – 1988 – USA

Despite the received wisdom about Coppola’s career in the 80s and 90s – namely that it was nothing but a slippery slope towards irrelevance, in revisiting many of his films from that period, I find them profoundly original and experimental, full of life and optimism that would seem unlikely in one whose ambitions and reputation had been demolished by his failure to top the triumphs of The Godfather I and II and Apocalypse Now.  (I’ve always said that in all fairness, no one else seems to be doing so either, so we can afford to give Coppola the credit for having once done it at all.)  In so many of Coppola’s films of this period – roughly 1982-1992 – there are strong factors that tie them into his complete oeuvre, in particular organic stylization and the theme of time.  In One From the Heart (1982), The Cotton Club (1984), Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) and Tucker, Coppola aggressively employs theatrical and even primitive techniques to make the films seem (as he puts it) “made of the same stuff” as the films’ subject matters.  In Tucker’s case, this means that instead of an 80-style docudrama as a journeyman director would have done it, Coppola frequently emulates the presentational format of 40s and 50s industrial films and newsreels.  As in many of his other films that ostensibly focus on crime, politics or show business, in Tucker, Coppola also molds his subject matter – in this case, the auto industry – into a metaphor both for his own filmmaking and for the plight of artists in general.  In his films, anyone attempting to do something original that threatens the established modus operandi tends to be systemically persecuted until he falls into line.  Ditto for those who attempt – as Michael Corleone did, and as Coppola does – to swerve from the path they are known for.  Reveling in the glow of the coming post-WWII prosperity and industrial advances, Preston Tucker (Jeff Bridges) envisions a “car of the future” that will do everything right that that Detroit’s ‘Big 3’ had neglected to do, such as swiveling head-lamps, the engine in the rear, and many significant safety features that were ultimately adopted industry-wide.  The “dream” of the title is an important indicator for both the film and for Coppola himself.  The drive to create, build and achieve is overwhelming for the engineer and the artist, and if your avocation is something – such as filmmaking – that typically requires budgets and collaborators, the process of making it all happen is an uphill battle.  Coppola has discussed this in depth in many interviews and commentary tracks.  Sometimes he has won, and often – like the real Tucker – he has been stymied.  For all these reasons, Tucker: The Man and His Dream is quite an autobiographical film for Coppola, and deserves better than being dismissed as a lesser work by a once-great director.