‘Megadoc’ Review: Coppola’s Creative Chaos, Captured in Real Time

Documentaries about film shoots are rarely all that engaging, and they tend to reveal very little about the creative process. More often than not, they function as carefully managed promotional tools, controlled by the studios releasing the films. But Megadoc is a different case—very different. Like the film it chronicles, it benefits from the freedom granted by its rather unusual “studio”: Francis Ford Coppola himself. Just as he financed Megalopolis out of his own pocket (reportedly at a cost exceeding $120 million), Coppola appears to have given Mike Figgis complete access to the set, allowing him to observe—up close and without filters—his singular creative process.

It’s a shame that the ambitious film shot during those long, turbulent weeks didn’t turn out to be a classic, because Megadoc could have served as a perfect companion piece, much like Hearts of Darkness, Eleanor Coppola’s legendary documentary about the making of Apocalypse Now. As it stands, one could argue that the documentary about Megalopolis is more compelling than the film itself. What Figgis captures is the portrait of a fiercely individual filmmaker, with a highly idiosyncratic way of directing, collaborating with actors, and managing a set. And he finds genuinely revealing moments in the process, shaped in part by his own experience shadowing the production.

Megalopolis was a project Coppola had been developing for over 30 years: expensive, ambitious, epic—a reflection on the contemporary world refracted through the lens of the Roman Empire. For decades, he couldn’t get it made due to its cost and the lack of studio backing. Archival footage included here shows that as early as the 2000s, he was already staging rehearsals, test shoots, and table reads with actors like Robert De Niro, Uma Thurman, and Ryan Gosling, among others. It wasn’t until he built a hugely successful wine business that Coppola could finally finance the film himself. And he did so without external oversight: no studios, no producers, no financiers. As he candidly admits on camera, his primary goal was simply to “have fun.” The results may not have fully lived up to expectations, but he made exactly the film he wanted. And that, ultimately, is his prerogative.

If the process looks enjoyable for him, it was clearly grueling as well. Megadoc begins—as most productions do—on a hopeful, energized note. Coppola and members of his cast (including Shia LaBeouf, Jon Voight, and Aubrey Plaza) engage in theatrical exercises and rehearsals designed to build trust, spark creativity, and help them discover their characters. With his background in theater, Coppola has long relied on these techniques, and the actors generally embrace them enthusiastically. The same goes for the crew—production designers, costume designers, choreographers—who initially seem thrilled just to be there, working alongside Coppola. Figgis (best known for Leaving Las Vegas) interweaves interviews with these collaborators throughout the film, gradually revealing how their perspectives evolve as the shoot progresses. In some cases, the shift in mood is striking.

Without giving too much away, it becomes clear that once filming begins, Coppola’s highly improvisational methods don’t sit well with everyone. Tensions arise within both the technical and creative teams; things don’t always go as planned; the budget begins to spiral; and Coppola grows increasingly fixated on certain ideas. Most notably, friction develops with LaBeouf—an especially intense performer who constantly challenges both himself and the director. Coppola, in turn, shows flashes of impatience, revealing a temperament that can be just as difficult. As the days pass, the initial harmony gives way to strain. It never quite descends into total chaos, but it’s clearly a demanding shoot—and by the end, Figgis himself seems nearly as exhausted as the rest.

There are also memorable contributions from seasoned veterans like Dustin Hoffman, Giancarlo Esposito, and Laurence Fishburne, each offering sharp, often insightful reflections. George Lucas even appears, delivering a few almost psychoanalytic observations that are particularly illuminating. The film’s lead, Adam Driver, is less present, as Figgis notes that the actor preferred not to be constantly followed by the camera while working. Still, for those who admire the director of The Godfather saga and The Conversation, the documentary offers a fascinating, real-time immersion into his creative process, with all its contradictions and peculiarities.

Now in his eighties, Coppola is fully aware of his limitations. He openly acknowledges his flaws and obsessions, yet remains guided by an instinctive, passionate approach. It becomes clear that he simply cannot work any other way than in a state of controlled chaos—with all the challenges that entails for those around him. At times in his career, that chaos has yielded masterpieces. That wasn’t quite the case with Megalopolis, but that almost feels beside the point. Regardless of that film’s outcome, Megadoc stands as a revealing and deeply engaging addition to the extensive body of work—written and filmed—about this extraordinary filmmaker.