On the DVD of Tucker: The Man and His Dream, George Lucas comments that Francis Ford Coppola, the director of the film, shares qualities with Preston Tucker - both men have big dreams and always admire and gravitate towards innovation, and their ideas are always springing out in some eccentric but exciting ways. This is true, more or less, depending on when looking at either man's life (right now, for example, Coppola is fine just making wine with the occasional 'student' film like Tetro). But I would like to take the comparison a step further in the Tucker company and Coppola's film company, American Zoetrope.<br /><br />Looking at what happened to the two companies, at least in the scope of the story told in the movie (I can't say how true it is to real events, just how it's depicted here), there's glaring similarities, and things I am sure Coppola connected with. Both men had passion to take a dream of something- for Tucker it was a car line, for Coppola it was independent cinema and a means to break out of studio controls- and they went forward to achieve it, like outsiders but with skills and a drive to succeed. And, ultimately, both men didn't quite live up to the dream. It's somewhat ironic then that the only other guy to really get something out of American Zoetrope in its early years (not counting its peaks and valleys in the 80s), was George Lucas, who turns the tables on the usual dynamic of Coppola producing Lucas' early films to producing Coppola's own film this time around. It's a glossy and nostalgic look at dreams how they can go. At the least, Tucker and Coppola tried.<br /><br />And in the film on Tucker, Coppola and his crew, primarily in credit due to DP Vittorio Storaro, make what could be said like a filmic version of a "Tucker" Car. It's bright and fast and a little off-kilter and unusual. But we like riding in it, and it has an appeal that gives something just a little different, and it's also pretty to look at, too. This may be outside of Dick Tracy Storaro's most "colorful" color film, so to speak, with the bright primary colors and advertisement of 1940's Americana springing out in the screen. Now, this said, this is not exactly a 'rebel' picture like Coppola's early work. Instead it's in debt to the period in film as well, and the primary influence would probably be Capra. This I mean as a compliment - Tucker as a film is entertaining because of how endearing Tucker is, how Jeff Bridges plays him in this context (a guy with a pioneer-spirit, with a smile even when things look bleakest), and how the villains, corporate board members, a Senator, the "Big Three" come off.<br /><br />Coppola even has time to give us two really great scenes. Like they're so good that they could be put right up against some of the essential scenes in the director's films (almost up there, though not quite, with the Wagner bombing in Apocalypse Now and Vito Corleone's death scene). One is the unveiling of the prototype of the Tucker car. It's an intense scene, one that is full of a "oh no!" factor, even as in the back of our minds we know things will be alright. Mishaps keep happening as a crowd of hundreds waits impatiently for the car to come out, as the crew keeps retooling it so it can actually move (with a spy in the midst snapping embarrassing photos) and not totally break down or go up in flames. It's an amazing, uplifting scene. The other great one, not quite in tone like any other scene in the film is when Tucker meets Howard Hughes. It's a strange scene, as Hughes is in the dark aircraft carrier at night with his "Spruce Goose" and, as played by a withdrawn Dean Stockwell, is a bit frightening as an innovator who, perhaps, got too much of what he wanted. It's a brief scene, but an important one, to showcase the variance of the two men, Tucker and Hughes.