Francis Ford Coppola: a walking, talking, filmmaking paradox wrapped in a trench coat of contradictions. Known for his 70s cinematic triumphs and his less celebrated dabbling in the mushy depths of Robin Williams’ family-friendly fare. Yet, here he is, trying to dazzle us again with a trio of self-produced, self-financed indies that precisely three and a half people watched. They’re deep and personal, so obviously, they’re fantastic—or so the narrative goes.

But wait, there’s more. Let’s revel in the irony of Coppola’s career. He started out as the poster boy for anti-studio rebellion—right until he ran out of cash and needed his own studio. Touché. Then there was his stint at MGM, where he was less a director and more a professional movie meddler. What larks!

Now, onto the ‘experimental’ train wrecks—excuse me, treasures. We’ve got Youth Without Youth, where a linguistics professor turns back the clock thanks to a casual lightning strike—because, science. Then there’s Tetro, featuring a protagonist so delightfully unsympathetic, he’s practically a tutorial on how not to be. And who could skip Twixt, a Gothic tale starring Val Kilmer as a washed-up writer haunted by more than just poor sales? It’s all very relatable, in a rich, famous filmmaker kind of way.

And now, drumroll, please… Megalopolis. A film so self-indulgent, Coppola nearly named it after himself. It promises a thrilling ride through a futuristic New York where an architect messes with time. Because if there’s one thing Coppola loves, it’s playing God with his characters. It’s like watching a kid with an ant farm—only the ants are paid actors.

But of course, this project is ‘inspired’ by the 1932 classic The Things To Come. Because, why bother with originality when you can stand on the shoulders of cinematic giants and hope no one notices? Who knows, maybe Megalopolis will be the masterpiece Coppola’s been trying to make since the 80s, or maybe it’ll be another heartfelt vanity project. Are we taking bets?