Making The Godfather: Marlon, the mob and me

The Godfather is an all-time great film but Gianni Russo tells how he used Mafia connections to help get it made — and secure a plum role. There was only one problem … Marlon Brando.

Gianni Russo. Picture: Eric Williams

All the main actors, myself included, moved into the Park Lane Hotel, located on Central Park South, except Marlon Brando, who chose the Hotel Elysée on East 54th St.

It wasn’t because he thought he was special — well, maybe a little special — but because he liked the Monkey Bar, which was located in the hotel.

I had driven cross-country in my Bentley with Chyna, the Chinese bombshell I’d used to deliver my screen test to Al Ruddy [the producer of The Godfather].

She was too hot to send back to the Tropicana chorus line and would make a great roommate. Susan [his wife] and I were practically strangers.

My daughter, Carmen, had been born and I doted on her, but Susan and I weren’t going to make it.

We both knew we’d done the wrong thing by getting married when we hardly knew each other. Susan was a nice person, but there was no love there. I’m sure she felt the same about me.

The word had gotten out that the cast of the picture would be staying at the Park Lane and, once shooting began, we were greeted every morning by a mob of fans in front of the hotel.

Godfather fever was gripping the city in a big way. Anything Godfather-related was getting stolen daily, the most prized items being anything emblazoned with a Godfather logo.

Clothing used in the picture and other personal items got feet. If it wasn’t nailed down, it was gone.

During preproduction, we would meet for full-cast table reads to acclimate ourselves to one another and the story, and work through any problems.

These were informal readings, set in an informal location.

The director, Francis Ford Coppola, chose Patsy’s Pizzeria on First Ave in East Harlem for the table reads. It had been at the same location since 1933, when the area was predominantly Italian, and deserved its reputation as a premier neighbourhood pizza joint. And, most important, it had a private back room, where we wouldn’t be disturbed. What better joint to rehearse an epic gangster movie?

So, what does one wear to a table reading? It really made little difference to me, because I was always well dressed. That first day, I was wearing one of my many Brioni suits. Why bring this up? Because I was in the company of people who, no matter what their acting reputations or wealth, dressed liked they had just rolled out of bed, except for Diane Keaton, who looked like a bag lady.

Sterling Hayden’s uniform of the day consisted of dirty jeans, a T-shirt and engineer boots, with unkempt hair down to his shoulders. The rest of the cast was equally “informal”. I felt like a tuxedo in a sea of brown shoes, but I cared little. Being well turned out is who I am, and always will be. I did get some odd looks, however.

There was a long table set up, and seating was arranged by order of character importance, with Brando at the head. Francis had everyone introduce themselves by name and character, beginning with Brando. Next, Francis asked that we begin reading our parts in order as they appeared in the script.

“No acting at this point, just read,” he said. “Except you genuine Italians. I want you to exaggerate your speech, colloquialisms, and hand gestures. Everyone else pay attention.”

There was a pizza break, and most of the actors wanted to talk to Brando, who was a living legend. All the featured players would go on to become huge stars, but at the time they were just kickstarting their careers. To be able to corral Brando for a little acting advice, and to brownnose a little, seemed to be the order of the day. I held back out of respect. I might have landed the plum role — and first role — of my life, but I was under no illusions as to my acting ability. I felt grateful to be in the picture, and I was there to soak up everything I could. To that end, I was going to keep my mouth shut and observe.

Marlon Brando had other ideas. Instead of commiserating with his fellow thespians, he cornered me and hit me with a bunch of questions.

“You’re a big movie actor?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“Television?”

Again, I told him, “No.”

“Who’d you study with?” Brando asked.

“Study what?” I had no idea what he was talking about.

Brando finally realised that I had zero experience in the acting game. I could tell he was upset. He turned to Francis Ford Coppola. “Francis, this guy,” he said, pointing at me, “marries my daughter, sells out the family, and is instrumental in getting my boy Sonny killed. This part needs to be given to an experienced actor. You should reconsider who has this part.”

The room went silent. I was seething and I didn’t give a f..k who this guy was, I was going after him. I put my arm around Brando — which turned out to be something you didn’t do, in addition to no eye contact — and ushered him to a corner.

I got right in his face but kept my voice subdued.

“Who the f..k’re you to try to do this to me? I’ll cut your f..king heart out, you rat motherf..ker.

“I’m part of this picture whether you like it or not, you c..ksucker.”

I was this close to decking him.

How humiliating would it be if I got dumped, particularly after the massive party my friends threw for me in Vegas? Brando stared at me for a what seemed like a minute. “What?” I finally said in a threatening tone.

“Man, you’re f..king good,” he said. “I take back what I said. You’ve got great acting chops.”

Holy shit, I couldn’t believe it! Brando thought I was acting!

This was the first day of a friendship with Brando that would last until he died. Full credit would go to Frank Sinatra, who would teach me how to sing and help me launch a singing career. And I will forever be indebted to Marlon Brando, who taught me how to act. He coached me every chance he got. I learned from the master.

“Hey, by the way,” Brando said, “is that your Bentley out front?”

“Yeah,” I said, my anger now totally deflated, “it’s mine. You like it?”

“It’s a Bentley; what’s not to like? But I like your driver better.”

From left: Gianni Russo, Al Pacino and director Francis Ford Coppola discuss the baptism scene.

I’d come to learn that Brando liked exotic women.

Chyna [a beautiful Chinese woman Russo had been squiring from the Tropicano casino in Las Vegas] was dutifully waiting for me behind the wheel of the car until the workday ended.

“Come with me,” I said. “I’ll introduce you.” Chyna would wind up moving in with Brando at his hotel, and he would later take her to one of the Tahitian islands that he owned. She had asked me if it was all right to move into Brando’s hotel room.

I told her I was fine with it. To my way of thinking, beautiful women weren’t a rare commodity, but there was only one Marlon Brando.

Hollywood Godfather: My Life in the Movies and the Mob by Gianni Russo

He’d be more valuable to me and my future than Chyna would ever be. I got a new driver, Pat Rufalo, an actor who played a wise guy in the picture, and who welcomed the chance to earn some extra money.

From that day forward, until we wrapped the movie, I would pick Brando up at the Elysée every morning for the ride to whatever location we were shooting at that day, and he’d coach me on my part. We’d go back and forth, with Brando reading every part opposite me.

He was invaluable to my learning the craft. In the evening, we’d go to the Monkey Bar at his hotel and we’d role-play for hours. We’d not only run through the script but he’d hit me with improvisational scenarios of the top of his head and we’d go with it. Every day my confidence increased, until I felt as comfortable as I was going to get around the professionals.

One morning, Rufalo and I picked up Brando and we headed to Patsy’s. As we drove north on Park Ave, Rufalo said, “We’ve got company.”

In the lane next to us was a station wagon with [actors] Robert Duvall and Jimmy Caan in the back seat. The window was rolled down and Caan had his naked ass shoved out the window, shooting us a classic moon. It was still pretty early, but it was daylight and there was enough traffic on the road for everyone to see what was going on.

Both cars drove side-by-side up Park Ave for quite a distance, with Jimmy Caan’s naked butt as my visual. Mooning became the sport of choice during the filming, with actors trying to outdo one another with the audaciousness of their exhibitionism.

Extracted from Hollywood Godfather, My Life in the Movies and the Mob, by Gianni Russo with Patrick Picciarelli, Simon and Schuster, $32.99