Megalopolis (2024) – The Caesar Salad of a Plot

I totally understand why Francis Ford Coppola would spend $120 million of his own money on a passion project like Megalopolis. The idea of transforming New York into a New Rome is packed with creative potential, and the film certainly doesn’t disappoint in its worldbuilding. It features striking characters, realtively deep conversations, and believable political tension that pays homage to ancient Rome. But when it comes to storytelling, the film feels scattered and unfocused.

Ok, we have a beautiful new world—but no real story. So instead of creating a story around a lead character, the Coppola seems to have picked a handful of familiar tropes, mixed them together, and built some sort of a narrative around those. The result feels like a Caesar salad of the cheapest kind—some parts are indeed juicy and flavorful, but much of it ends up being tossed out just to get through it.

Here’s a quick breakdown of the tropes that, in my opinion, worked — and those that didn’t and then we’ll discuss why.

✅ Worked well:

• Forbidden love
• Love triangle
• Power struggle / hunger for money

❌ Fell flat:

• Hero with supernatural powers from the get-go
• “The special one” or the Messiah figure
• The resurrection

An especially unrelatable protagonist

Cesar is the quintessential “special one” — not only does he have the extraordinary ability to stop time (for some reason that Coppola was fascinated about but adds nothing to the story), but he also cheats death itself, ultimately surviving a gunshot to the face without a scar. When was the last time we saw a character so powerful and invincible from the very start?

He’s portrayed almost as a messiah figure, a visionary savior meant to reshape the world, but this mythic status ultimately makes him feel less like a real person and more like an untouchable symbol — powerful, but frustratingly unrelatable for anyone in the audience.

The questionable love

Julia’s love for Cesar doesn’t begin as a genuine connection but rather as admiration for his extraordinary powers, something she openly expresses. She seems captivated more by the idea of Cesar as a messianic figure—the “special one” who holds the fate of the world in his hands—than by the man himself. This isn’t true love, yet the film never addresses this and portrays her feelings as sincere, which makes it all especially confusing.

The double disconnect

I would call this a double disconnect. Even if I could somehow relate to Cesar—which I cannot—there’s an additional hurdle: the love he receives from Julia feels fake and unearned. This second emotional gap makes it even harder for us in the audience to invest in his journey, as the relationship, which should humanize him, instead reinforces his distance and untouchability.

Instead of feeling happy for the two and enjoying the moment, the audience is left wondering: Do I also have to bend time and cheat death to earn this kind of beautiful love? Or maybe, how many guys like that even exist for me out there?

What’s the answer to that?

Well? Weeeellll?

The non-symbolic ressurection

In most stories, resurrection is symbolic—a transformative moment where the hero sheds their ego and steps into a greater version of themselves. It’s about growth, humility, and confronting one’s inner limitations. But in Megalopolis, Cesar’s resurrection skips the introspection. It doesn’t mark a shift toward a higher self—it simply reaffirms that he is the chosen one, the exceptional being above all others.

These are the storytelling elements I thought were worth pointing out. The rest of the movie, like I said, is a salad to nitpick. More precisely—an unsalvageable salad with no redemption arc though I’m never a disbeliever. It’s just that I didn’t even order a salad — I came for popcorn and a soda.

Ira