To nitpick and scrutinize a towering masterpiece like The Godfather feels like a fool’s errand. A high-water mark achievement of the art form, the Francis Ford Coppola film still holds up today, from its iconic, star-making performances, punchy dialogue, and immersive set design, to its Shakespearean character arcs. Along with its greatness, one aspect of The Godfather that is undeniable is its masculine perspective and sensibilities. On the surface, this is acceptable, as it reflects a historical period and milieu that skews on the side of male perspectives. However, its myopic viewpoint shows itself in the characterization of the central female character, Kay Corleone (Diane Keaton), the wife of the war hero-turned-ruthless Corleone Family Don, Michael (Al Pacino). Ultimately, Kay represents the lone major flaw in The Godfather series, as the character is egregiously short-changed, despite her potential for growth as a unique figure in this world of organized crime.

Diane Keaton Plays an Outsider in the World of Organized Crime in ‘The Godfather’

When we’re first introduced to Michael Corleone in The Godfather, he sits off to the side while the wedding party for his sister, Connie (Talia Shire), rages on. Donning his army uniform, the gentle and reserved WWII veteran is a dignified member of society, which makes him an outcast in his family of mafia bosses and soldiers. Sitting next to him is his then-girlfriend, Kay, as he shares an unnerving anecdote about how his father, Vito (Marlon Brando), coerces people to sign contracts. “That’s my family, Kay. It’s not me,” Michael says, emphasizing his distance from his family’s illicit enterprise. Kay, a blonde-haired and blue-eyed WASP in a group of first and second-generation Italian-Americans, takes solace in being an outsider with Michael. She badgers Michael with questions about the life of organized crime without ever taking an interest in being a part of it.

Coppola visualizes Kay’s status as an outsider in one of the most striking and poignant endings in film history. Michael, whose aspirations of becoming a senator or a noble American figure have been shattered, has ascended to the throne of the head of the Corleone family in his father’s wake. Now emphatically an insider in the family, the warm and affable Michael is now icy and steely. He refuses to talk frankly about his business affairs with Kay. As she is escorted out of Michael’s office, a group of associates circles around Michael, paying him the respect that they gave Vito. As Kay watches from afar, a soldier closes the door on her, forever segregating her from the family. Kay’s expression of sorrow, played exquisitely by Keaton, also reflects the horror of watching her husband devolve into this cutthroat mob boss who just killed his brother-in-law without remorse.

Kay Corleone Is Ignored and Left Underdeveloped in ‘The Godfather’ Movies
Image via Paramount Pictures

Granted, Kay lives in film history as the final image of The Godfather, but her closed-door treatment speaks to the underserved nature of her character. Coppola and Godfather author and co-writer Mario Puzo could argue that her limited screen time and development is a product of her status as an outsider. Still, Kay’s sense of alienation from her husband, as well as the utter betrayal she would’ve felt when Michael fled to Italy, were worthy of Coppola’s examination of the downfall of the American Dream. Thanks to Diane Keaton, an untapped dramatic presence, Kay manages to be one of the more well-rounded examples of the wife archetype in crime movies, but she ultimately is resigned to broad character beats, with the most egregious symptoms being her lack of pushback against Michael’s cynical worldview upon returning from Italy and her willingness to marry this sociopath despite her moral objections to organized crime.

With The Godfather: Part II, a grander and more meditative study of Michael’s life, we should’ve expected Kay to become more fleshed out as a character, but she instead resorted to inhabiting the broad stereotype of the “nagging wife” that pesters Michael for his actions. Again, the film’s present-day storyline, opening with a first communion party, shows promise for Kay. She confronts Michael for lying to her about the family business turning legitimate, yet here they are, still working with corrupt senators and trafficking in illicit trade. By the third act, Kay is merely there to tell Michael that he’s become a monster. As a viewer, we’re meant to sympathize with Kay, but she is turned into a narrative device for Michael’s arc, as he is incensed that she aborted their future son.

To suggest that The Godfather is lacking in thematic and character weight is ludicrous, but the potential for Kay Corleone as a nuanced reflection of the disassociation between civilians and criminals was left on the table. Diane Keaton brings both wonder and pathos to the role, but the broader scope of The Godfather just isn’t substantially invested in her arc. Between The Conversation and Rumble Fish, Coppola shines at constructing isolated characters in a disassociative world. The Godfather is just about perfect when it comes to everything else, but a refined portrait of the most humane and sympathetic character could’ve taken it to even greater heights.

The Godfather is available to stream on Paramount+ in the U.S.

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