There was a time in my life—very distant and hazy—when I had access to cable TV. During that brief, indulgent period, I recall that the Godfather movies seemed to be played on near continuous loop during the holiday season. And, as a typical man, perhaps, I was inclined to watch them. Consequently, many of those often-quoted scenes are now imprinted on my brain, and as with any good film, they have a way of popping up in my thoughts when life presents parallels.
There’s one such scene that I find wonderfully illustrative of a key aspect to beauty: when in Part II a young Vito Corleone discusses the love interest of his friend Genco while watching her perform in a musical. In their brief exchange, Vito manages to deftly demonstrate beauty’s universal nature while at the same time distinguishing it from the kind of subjective attraction that springs from personal interest (in this case, of the romantic variety). Here are the lines, or watch a clip here:
GENCO: (Eagerly) Vito, how do you like my little angel? Isn’t she beautiful?
VITO: (Smiling and nodding his head, he says with sincerity) She’s very beautiful.
GENCO: (Pressing him with restrained enthusiasm) Beautiful?!
VITO: (After a moment’s reflection) To you she’s beautiful. For me, there’s only my wife and son.
Vito Corleone, of course, was famous for never going against the family, so one might interpret this exchange as just an expression of his extreme familial dedication. But with the help of Robert De Niro’s understated acting performance, there is another layer to this dialogue which offers us insight into the universal nature of beauty.
Specifically, the scene sheds light on perhaps the thorniest issue in aesthetics: to what extent is beauty subjective versus objective? In the quest for clarity on the question, the philosopher Immanuel Kant made a critical observation: our individual claims of beauty are notably marked by a desire to seek agreement on the matter. As an example, we seem to rarely qualify such declarations by saying “this is beautiful to me” as we might when describing what kind of wine we like. Rather, our feeling is that there is something inherent in the things we find beautiful, something that our fellow human beings should also see and ought to recognize.
It’s with that universal aspect in mind that Vito first acknowledges the beauty of his friend’s lover. But when Genco steers his inquiry towards the kind of attraction that intertwines with romantic interest, Vito acknowledges the distinction and declares himself unable to judge. In such matters, so to speak, his heart is already spoken for.
SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS
The claim to beauty is indeed an assertive one, and we are usually mindful to reserve the actual word for the strongest cases, lest we provoke unnecessary squabbles and misunderstandings, like Genco’s. In fact, for those instances of less pronounced beauty, we typically utilize a host of other terms that allow for more flexibility of interpretation and degree, such as cute, lovely and attractive. But there will always be those special instances when we feel compelled to declare the beauty in our midst. I’ll give you an example that comes from my own life, from a recent neighbourhood holiday party I attended:
(Before setting the scene, a quick remark on the power of a well-placed expletive: My favourite professor in university wasn’t in the architecture school, he was in the Humanities department. Of the many pearls of wisdom he offered in his literature classes, I recall distinctly Professor Isenberg directing us students on the delicate art of profanity. The key, he emphasized, is to use such words sparingly and only at moments when extreme emphasis is required to achieve the desired effect. The following is a recount of such a case.)
At this party, my wife and I were chatting with another couple in the neighbourhood. Their kids are older than ours, and they were sharing parental wisdom and relating tales from the peculiar lives of teenagers. At one point, the woman from the couple was discussing her son’s recent crush, and in describing the girl to us, she said with wide-eyed sincerity, “and she’s fucking beautiful.”
Her pronouncement was handed down to us as an indisputable verdict. Left unsaid was the added judgment: “only a fool would feel otherwise.” Luckily we were unfamiliar with the young woman in question and our facial expressions could betray no contradiction to her claim. But I hope we never do cross paths with the young lady lest we find ourselves in the doubly awkward position of both judging her appearance and (after having been compelled to do so) possibly disagreeing with our neighbour.
Claims to beauty are powerful in that way. They are inherently a social act with disruptive potential. I believe that’s why many people feel uncomfortable making such declarations, especially in a world that prizes individual expression where it can be easier to leave matters of beauty confined within the domain of personal taste. But in truth, I suspect that most of us quietly feel otherwise: that there do exist aesthetic universals which move us all. And like my neighbour or Vito Corleone’s friend, there are times when the beauty of something is so great that it compels us to call it out by name and seek its recognition from the world.
IN ARCHITECTURE
Of course, judging the superficial looks of someone’s love interest is one thing, but the beauty of our shared aesthetic realm—our cities and buildings—is quite another. In this sphere we all really do have a stake. As shown by research in Nicholas Boys Smith’s book Heart in the Right Street, people are happier and feel more connected to their communities when they consider their surroundings to be beautiful. Perhaps more remarkably, it proves rather easy to find general consensus on such aesthetic matters when studies look into the matter.
This fact about beauty in architecture is important because people depend deeply on shared values to connect with each other and find greater meaning in their lives. In this way, the interests of a particular architect are less important than what unites and enriches us all. Architects would do well to consider this truth when designing our built environment, and they should use their skills to achieve the best possible version of what people actually want to see. Though beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it’s amazing what wonderful things we can agree on.