It's no wonder Coppola tired so soon and so easily of classicist filmmaking....he's completely consumed by emotions and so he tries to find a way to express them. In other words: this man is intoxicated, completely wasted on cinema. He lives, breathes, eats cinema. This is the middle film in this 1980's monumental trifecta (the others being One From The Heart and The Cotton Club) of total aesthetic, sensory reaction. This one is so utterly aestheticized, stylized, explosive that it's easy to forget there is a very precious coming of age story here.
Still, I don't know what the hell this movie is about, but I doubt letting one know was even Coppola's intention. It's another film about youths (there…