Megalopolis Remains an Unforgettable Flop That Refuses to Be Forgotten

30 December 2025

Courtesy of the Cannes Film Festival

When Francis Ford Coppola finally unveiled Megalopolis, his decades-in-the-making passion project, audiences and critics alike expected a daring return from one of cinema’s most iconic directors. Instead what arrived was a box-office disappointment of historic proportions combined with an afterlife as unusual and relentless as the film’s sprawling ambition itself, a story that speaks to the clash between auteur cinema and the realities of the modern entertainment industry. (Megalopolis grossed just over $14 million worldwide against a self-financed budget of around $120 million making it one of the most striking commercial failures in recent memory for a major filmmaker and a stark contrast to Coppola’s towering legacy from The Godfather to Apocalypse Now.)

The tale of Megalopolis begins with a deeply personal vision. Coppola, now in his eighties, had nurtured the idea for more than forty years, conceiving it as a futuristic epic about rebuilding society after ruin, a philosophical meditation on city life and human possibility. The film promised epic scale and weighty ideas and boasted an impressive cast including Adam Driver, Aubrey Plaza and Laurence Fishburne. There was a sense among cinephiles that if anyone could pull off such a lofty concept it might be the director who had redefined American cinema in the 1970s. Yet from its premiere at Cannes in May 2024 through its wide release later that year, Megalopolis struggled to find an audience.

Part of the problem stemmed from the stark gulf between Coppola’s auteur-driven storytelling and the expectations of a broad moviegoing public conditioned by decades of franchise-dominated cinema. Critics were divided on the film’s merits but many found it chaotic and incoherent with dialogue and narrative shifts that felt alienating to mainstream viewers. Scenes shifted from high-concept philosophical monologues to stylistic flourishes that some described as bewildering rather than visionary. Audience scores reflected this disconnect with casual moviegoers, who graded the film poorly and helped create the impression that Megalopolis was a rarefied experiment rather than a must-see event.

Commercially the performance was stark. Despite a wide theatrical release and high-profile IMAX screenings, Megalopolis could not translate its ambition into box-office success. Industry trackers noted that the film’s opening was far below projections and that its eventual total gross was a fraction of its cost. For Coppola, who had chosen to finance much of the $120 million price tag himself after studios balked at covering marketing and distribution costs, the financial blow was significant. It was a rare instance in which market forces seemed to overwhelm the clout of one of the industry’s most revered names.

But the story did not end with commercial disappointment. Instead of fading quietly into obscurity as many flops do, Megalopolis took on an unconventional post-theatrical life that has kept it in the conversation. Coppola personally embarked on a multi-city speaking tour where he screened the film and followed the screenings with lectures about its themes and his philosophical intentions. The event-style approach was less about box-office revenue and more about creating a shared experience that harks back to an earlier era of cinema when films were events to be discussed and debated in community with others.

Coppola has also announced plans for a director’s cut titled Megalopolis Unbound, promising that the film’s final form has not yet been realized. This extended version is pitched not as a way to salvage box-office earnings but as a restoration of Coppola’s unfiltered creative vision, a testament to his stubborn belief that the film will find its audience over time. Critics and fans of the director’s work have met these announcements with a mix of amusement appreciation and skepticism, but the fact that Megalopolis continues to generate conversation months after its release underscores its unusual place in contemporary film culture.

Adding to the project’s cultural footprint is Megadoc, a companion documentary by filmmaker Mike Figgis that chronicles the tumultuous production and creative process behind Megalopolis. Premiered at major film festivals, the documentary highlights the immense personal investment Coppola made in the project, as well as the tensions and triumphs of managing such an idiosyncratic enterprise. Through interviews and behind-the-scenes footage, Megadoc frames the making of Megalopolis as an epic creative odyssey in its own right, one that mirrors the grand ambitions and chaotic spirit of the film itself.

There is also a deliberate scarcity strategy at play. The original cut of Megalopolis has become difficult to access on major streaming platforms, a reality that some observers believe is partially intentional, cultivating a sense of rarity and mystique. In an age of endless content churned out by algorithms and streaming services, Coppola’s choice to withhold wide digital availability can be read as a statement about the value of scarcity and the lived experience of cinema. This strategy has sparked debate among film scholars and audiences about how films should be distributed and consumed in the digital era.

Despite its flawed reception, Megalopolis has thus carved out a unique cultural niche. It stands as a symbol of artistic risk-taking in an industry where risk is often minimized in favor of franchise familiarity and commercial predictability. Coppola’s willingness to self-fund, to adapt his distribution strategies and to double down on his personal vision even in the face of financial and critical headwinds has made Megalopolis an emblem of what some describe as the enduring tension between art and commerce in cinema.

For Francis Ford Coppola, the legacy of Megalopolis will likely be debated for years among critics and cinephiles. Some will see it as a misguided folly while others may celebrate it as a bold, if flawed, cinematic statement from a director unafraid to defy convention. Either way Megalopolis has proven itself not merely a box-office footnote but a cultural phenomenon that refuses to vanish, an artifact of a filmmaker’s unyielding ambition in an age of entertainment where such ambition is increasingly rare.