The Godfather Part III, the bastard child of the Godfather not-actually-a-trilogy, gets a bad rap, which is partially undeserved. Yes, Sofia Coppola is not an actress, and no, you can't paper over that without digiswapping her performance Spacey/Plummer style. But a) I counted only two scenes in a two-and-a-half-hour film where she actually let the film down, b) her being in the film at all was not a deliberate choice by anyone but rather one practically forced on the production by behind-the-scenes turmoil, and c) she did a far better job than I could have done (even if I hadn't been a toddler at the time and/or had the right set of plumbing to stop it being a gay romance in addition to kissing cousins, yikes), so I'm not really here to rag on her or blame her for the film being what it is. And as for which two scenes I'm referring to in a), well, you'll just have to guess.
Oh, and d) long-time readers of this blog know that I'm a huge fan of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, another franchise film where the acting talent of one of the leads occasionally leaves something to be desired, so it's not like the occasional wooden delivery is a dealbreaker for me.
