Grin & bear it: The investment in Francis Coppola’s ‘Tucker: The Man and His Dream’ would’ve been better spent on a few more 48s
Francis Ford Coppola, the story has always gone, is named partly after a car company. That’s even though Pops wasn’t exactly an automaker — he was a Juilliard-trained musician in the Motor City who actually moved the family to New York when Francis was a toddler.
Something about Detroit stuck. Francis, at least cinematically, is a car guy. He famously championed “American Graffiti” when George Lucas had trouble finding takers. A decade later, financial outlooks reversed, Lucas engineered the making of Coppola’s long-festering “Tucker: The Man and His Dream,” a movie that — to put it bluntly — seems to have no point. (Other than both of these legendary filmmakers having apparently owned and displayed one of these cars. You don’t have to go far to find inspiration.)
“Tucker” is not part of the ledger of Coppola’s great era — not even remotely close — but it’s a sterling specimen of his post-great era. Interesting concepts. Maybe too well made. Maybe, like the works of his longtime friend Lucas, a little too mechanical.
Francis was on to something. But not what he thought. His movie isn’t about a dream but a sales pitch ... How hard it can be to deliver an idea and how easy it can be to sell it.
There have got to be ways to show it. A movie about IPO convenants? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The strongest Preston Tucker story is something about early-stage investing, whether called “seed” or “angel” or some other description. Lots of people have great ideas. Very few of those ideas become viable businesses. Still, it can be exciting to buy a stake in those ideas.
“Tucker” could be implying, but isn’t, that while there’s a real automotive concept here pursued earnestly, people are gullible — the level of production depicted should only be financed by someone’s father-in-law, not by a nationwide collection of investors. But Francis is too blown away by the car. It’s cool. It’s rare. So Preston is a tragic figure.
1980s Chicago Tribune critic Dave Kehr, who generously gave the movie three stars, refers to it simply as “Tucker” and says it’s merely “subtitled” with the rest. The IMDB says the official title is “Tucker: The Man and His Dream.” Those words are noteworthy, because if “Tucker” was about a dream, we would’ve seen it coming together in the character’s mind 30 years earlier. The Chicago Tribune in 1950 reported that “Tucker’s earliest reported mention of such a project” occurred in 1944. “Tucker: The Man and His Trial” would’ve been a better concept.
“Tucker” reportedly was “originally conceived as a musical,” according to Kehr. However that would work — and it’s extremely optimistic to think that it would — Coppola’s at a steep disadvantage to “American Graffiti,” as the popular music of the 1940s (marching bands) isn’t the same as that of 1962.
“Tucker” might be about the ultimate optimist. The postwar 1940s, when life was boundless and beautiful. A message to do what you want to do in life, details be damned. If you follow your heart, it’ll work out somehow. But that isn’t this movie. The facts of Preston Tucker, which the movie faithfully adheres to, don’t tell that particular story. If anything, by following the facts, which was a Coppola mistake, the movie suggests that a bright and likable engineer’s important contributions to society were derailed not only by a conspiracy but by his own incompetence or chicanery. He’s a prominent figure in the automotive scene who had a lot of jobs and ideas. Either other people’s money, or jealousy, tripped him up.
Other than making a cool collector car, Tucker’s chief contribution to society, according to the movie, seems to be PR — stressing the importance of seat belts. At several points in the film, Coppola will have characters recite the groundbreaking features: disc brakes, fuel injection, crash-resistant windshield. Whether Tucker actually pioneered these concepts or simply admired them is not clear from the film. Much of the curiosity of the car is about the novelties — rear engine, middle headlight. For viewers of a movie — who can’t take a ride during the show — about all that matters is, what does it look like.
Consider the visuals of another movie made around the same time, “Field of Dreams.” You have a fictional character with a curious inspiration to turn his farm into a ballfield. The stories that guide people to this ballpark don’t make a whole lot of sense. The more people talk, the stranger it gets. But it’s an extraordinarily beautiful scene, and you just want to sit in those stands forever. That movie, on some level, is about mending fences — and like “Tucker” is also immensely sympathetic to a public figure (Shoeless Joe Jackson) accused of wrongdoing. In “Tucker,” every detail must be spoken, like a book being read to us, from the handy introductory promotional film to the interest in selling investments. There actually was a 1960 book titled “The indomitable Tin Goose: The true story of Preston Tucker and his car,” by Charles Pearson, that is evidently not the source of Coppola’s movie. The New York Times reported in 1988 that Coppola “acquired the rights to film Tucker’s life story from the industrialist’s family” in 1976.
That Coppola’s concept took more than a decade to reach the big screen obviously says much. In an incredibly stark departure from his “Godfather” films and “Apocalypse Now,” he has given us a movie with absolutely no edge. He’s made a re-creation (check the Preston Tucker Wiki page, it’s a close match to the movie) with very highly paid actors. Lucas wanted a “Capra-esque” treatment, the Times said in 1988, noting that the movie has a “whimsical, upbeat air in which Jeff Bridges smiles a lot.” Coppola said then that Lucas “was at the height of his success, and I was at the height of my failure, and I was a little insecure ... it’s not the movie I would have made at the height of my power.”
Filmmakers have always loved portraying Howard Hughes. Filmmakers also love the wrongly accused. (Or those perceived to be wrongly accused.) Yet legal hearings in which someone is being screwed are notorious for weighing down even great films. Take “Oppenheimer.” Movies such as “The People vs. Larry Flynt” or “The Trial of the Chicago 7” try to hammer home the notion of being screwed with courtroom antics. If the defendant’s a character, nobody can take these charges seriously. “Tucker” will unfortunately invoke that approach for its climax (and even slightly before, when Tucker drives by the cops). The legal jeopardy Tucker finds himself in is so arcane, despite the fact it’s read to viewers at various times, audiences aren’t going to understand why there is even a trial. The movie seems to think Tucker did no wrong. Is it sure about that?
According to the Chicago Tribune’s Jan. 23, 1950, account of Tucker’s acquittal, the government portrayed Tucker as “a promoter without engineering ability” and the corporation and plant as “props” in a “grand scale confidence game.” The prosecution “argued the advertisements repeatedly promised that mass output was just around the corner, when actually the company never possessed final plans for a car or the equipment to operate an assembly line.” In other words, investors were bound to lose money.
The federal case delves into a gray area of finance, a chicken-and-egg problem. Tucker wants to build cars but needs money to do so. To receive money from the public, there are legalities. The government alleged that Tucker used a lot of the money on himself, not his cars. The Chicago Tribune reported on Jan. 7, 1949, that “Tucker reportedly has been drawing a $50,000 a year salary (about $666,000 today) and $40 a day expenses.” In November 1949, the Tribune reported testimony that Tucker “assigned the job of building transmissions for the Tucker car to his mother’s machine tool company, altho it was not equipped for the job.”
News of Preston Tucker’s acquittal in the Jan. 23, 1950, Chicago Tribune
In October 1949, the Tribune reported, Mark Mourne, a first cousin of Tucker who had only a “very distant” relationship with the entrepreneur, testified that he was surprised to get a call from Tucker in December 1945 offering to make Mourne secretary of the company, at $1,500 a month. Mourne said Tucker told him to read an article in Pic magazine about the company. Mourne did so and was surprised to see that he was already listed in the article as secretary of the company. Instead of receiving $1,500 a month, Mourne only occasionally got $500, and not from Tucker’s company, but Tucker’s mother’s company. Other trial testimony indicated the company was “paying a publicity firm as much as $3,500 a month early in 1947,” with $2,000 of that money directed to one of the defendants in the case.
Another example of dubious spending was mentioned in the government’s opening statement. In a curious airplane transaction, Tucker in 1947 personally bought a Beechcraft, after his first check bounced, then had the company rent the plane from him.
The company raised $27.9 million (over $400 million today) by selling stock, dealer franchises and accessories. The movie does not show any purported victims. According to a Dec. 9, 1949, Chicago Tribune report, a Minnesota Tucker dealer, D.J. Ehlenz, testified at trial that he bought a Tucker car for $5,000 (about $67,000 in early 2025 dollars) and “the model had no automatic transmission, no advanced type disc brake, no fuel injection, and no sealed cooling system.”
The defense did not call a witness and argued that the prosecution “failed to prove an intent to defraud,” according to the Tribune. The defense contended that there was “honest intention of mass producing a car” that was foiled by “ill inspired government investigations” that might have been “instigated by established auto manufacturers who feared competition.” The defense did concede “fits of bad management.”
A New York Times article in 1988 states, “Just how much Detroit and its political allies contributed to Tucker’s undoing has long been debated.”
The judge told the jurors that good faith was a “complete defense.” The jurors admitted “confusion” about the volume of evidence and more than 1,000 government exhibits. The question of “intent” proved to be “the crucial consideration.” Jurors said they took four ballots. The first two were 10-2 for acquittal, then 11-1, then “unanimous.” As the verdict was announced, “The courtroom was a scene of deafeningly joyous confusion for nearly half an hour,” and, “Several of the jurors themselves were misty eyed or openly weeping with sympathy.”
The movie is oblivious to an obvious truth — whatever financial mismanagement occurred, if the car really is great and viable, any industrialist (Howard Hughes?) could’ve bought the operation and mass-produced it.
Preston Tucker (back, middle) and other defendants after the acquittal
in the Jan. 23, 1950, Chicago Tribune
In “Tucker” the movie, critics might have been seeing more than what’s really there. Roger Ebert, both on his TV show and in his review, seems convinced that the movie is more about the dreams of Francis Ford Coppola than Preston Tucker. “Coppola sees a version of himself” in the film, Ebert writes, and “Many details are the same between the automaker and the filmmaker.” Ebert somehow cites Coppola’s indecision toward the ending of “Apocalypse Now” as an example of how “The parallels between Coppola and Tucker are so obvious.”
Kehr made similar assertions. “ ‘Tucker’ is also the thinly disguised autobiography of Francis Ford Coppola, in which Tucker’s automobile plant stands in for Zoetrope Studios,” Kehr writes. Coppola was “forced out of business by his creditors,” Kehr adds, as if making a few bad movies has anything to do with launching a car company. Coppola did tell the New York Times in 1988, “I think what I really am is an inventor.” Coppola’s real autoboiography (the “definitive account” was published in 2001) should go something like this: Talented person, everything was well made, a few projects were lucrative (including a winery in which his name on the label is probably half of the value) and financed a lot of others that weren’t.
Ebert opines, “The car itself is the star of this movie,” but that’s incorrect. The car is a big deal to collectors. To most people, it looks little different than other cars of the 1940s. According to a 2017 New York Times article, “Many of the original Tuckers were used in the making of the movie.” That’s a nice touch. And maybe a risky one for the cars’ owners. Movie sets can be haphazard places. According to collector blogs, some fake Tucker 48s were created for the movie, and a vehicle shown crashing is actually a modified 1950 Studebaker.
In “Back to the Future,” the car is magical and sort of is the star of the movie, perhaps because there is just one car, not a fleet of 50. In “Tucker,” if anything, the car show is the star. Those are clearly the director’s favorite scenes. Not driving the car but revealing it. In front of a large crowd entertained by showgirls and marching bands. When they all gather to see the new ride, of course, a bunch of things go wrong, but the car looks great.
Jeff Bridges, as Preston Tucker, is in this film a one-note supporting character whose nonstop grin is perhaps the most obnoxious ever, in any movie (in the Batman/Joker movies, it’s kind of cool; this is more like Dennis Quaid in “The Right Stuff,” but Quaid is only one of many characters in that film). When a character smiles often, it’s encouraging. When he smiles all the time, you can’t believe anything he says. He would be perfect as the car salesman who sits in the giant rocking chair in “American Graffiti.” Bridges is never going to inform us why Tucker is doing what he’s doing.
The real Tucker is in an interesting category. One could put together a Hall of Fame of Inventing’s runners-up. Almost no one’s heard of Elisha Gray. But a lot of people have heard of the “Winklevi.” Preston Tucker is somewhere in between — a forgettable industrial figure; a remarkable contributor to the collector world.
Being that this is a Francis Coppola production, you will see greatness in the credits — Martin Landau, Christian Slater, Joan Allen, Dean Stockwell, Frederic Forrest, Peter Donat. But they need something to work with. Richard Brody in 2019 writes that Coppola is “not necessarily one of the best screenwriters” and that the “Tucker” script “was written by Arnold Schulman and David Seidler (who actually didn’t work together on it).”
Released in summer 1988, “Tucker” was made shortly after “Peggy Sue Got Married,” another Coppola nostalgia trip. “Peggy Sue” actually made money. Coppola was not the creator but only the relief pitcher on that project. Both movies are, more or less, all-white. “Peggy Sue” was far more fond of its ’60s cars than anything else in the script. There are quite a few famous car scenes in “The Godfather.” The Corleones are wealthy and enjoy big rides. But three gangsters are murdered in cars, as is a completely innocent wife. Michael is subjected to an uncomfortable search. There’s perhaps an indication there from Coppola that cars are our lifeblood, our statements, and sometimes our coffins.
Francis Coppola is among many filmmakers with great success in the ’70s who was never able to re-create the same edge afterwards. Robert Altman is another, so are Hal Ashby, Michael Cimino and, maybe the biggest example, Coppola’s pal George Lucas. Did movies, or just the times, change?
Francis to this day has much to say. In April 2025, he spent an appearance in Detroit only barely taking a few audience questions about movies after opining on self-driving cars, matriarchies and patriarchies and his notion that cities should change mayors monthly. He did candidly mention the debt coming due on his 2024 headliner “Megalopolis,” widely reported as one of the biggest flops in history, suggesting it was probably “ridiculous” to try to pull it off. Like “Tucker,” it was a long-term project about a visionary thwarted by politicians.
“Tucker: The Man and His Dream” too lost money, reportedly. It cost about $24 million, much of it covered by Paramount, according to the New York Times, and grossing, according to Box Office Mojo, about $19.6 million, which may not sound bad but was only 53rd place for the year.
No film by Francis will ever be badly made. ’80s efforts including “The Cotton Club” (he only finished it), “One from the Heart,” “Gardens of Stone” and “Rumble Fish” all — “reportedly” — took financial losses. But money was made on “The Outsiders,” “The Godfather Part III” and “Bram Stoker’s Dracula.” None receive near the acclaim of his ’70s pictures. Still, we should be glad he’s still trying.
If not for Francis’ film, chances are, most people would never know there was a carmaker named Tucker. Were Coppola making “Tucker” now, he’d have to weigh it against a contrarian contemporary story — Elon Musk. Musk was not the first person at Tesla, and he was wealthy when he arrived. But, over years, his cars popularized the EV, broke boundaries, reset the curve, left GM and Ford (at least their share price) in the dust, and — most incredibly — made him the world’s richest man. Musk’s kind of money problem is a lot different than that of Preston Tucker. Musk’s most expensive cars can run above $200,000. A Tucker 48 sold at auction in 2019 for $1.6 million. That’s our filmmakers’ happy ending.
2 stars
(April 2025)
“Tucker: The Man and His Dream” (1988)
Starring
Jeff Bridges as
Preston Tucker ♦
Joan Allen as
Vera ♦
Martin Landau as
Abe ♦
Frederic Forrest as
Eddie ♦
Mako as
Jimmy ♦
Elias Koteas as
Alex Tremulis ♦
Christian Slater as
Junior ♦
Nina Siemaszko as
Marilyn Lee ♦
Anders Johnson as
Johnny ♦
Corky Nemec as
Noble ♦
Marshall Bell as
Frank ♦
Jay O. Sanders as
Kirby ♦
Peter Donat as
Kerner ♦
Dean Goodman as
Bennington/Drew Pearson (Voice) ♦
John X. Heart as
Ferguson’s Agent ♦
Don Novello as
Stan ♦
Patti Austin as
Millie ♦
Sandy Bull as
Stan’s Assistant ♦
Joseph Miksak as
Judge ♦
Scott Beach as
Floyd Cerf ♦
Roland Scrivner as
Oscar Beasley ♦
Dean Stockwell as
Howard Hughes ♦
Bob Safford as
Narrator (voice) ♦
Larry Menkin as
Doc ♦
Ron Close as
Fritz ♦
Joe Flood as
Dutch ♦
Leonard Gardner as
Gas Station Owner ♦
Bill Bonham as
Garage Owner ♦
Abigail Van Alyn as
Ferguson’s Secretary #1 ♦
Taylor Gilbert as
Ferguson’s Secretary #2 ♦
David Booth as
Man in Hall ♦
Jessie Nelson as
Woman on Steps ♦
Al Hart as
Newscaster (voice) ♦
Cab Covay as
Security Guard ♦
James Cranna as
Man in Audience ♦
Bill Reddick as
Board Member ♦
Ed Loerke as
Mayor ♦
Jay Jacobus as
Head Engineer ♦
Anne Lawder as
Bennington’s Secretary ♦
Jeanette Lana Sartain as
Singing Girl ♦
Mary Buffett as
Singing Girl ♦
Annie Stocking as
Singing Girl ♦
Michael McShane as
Recording Engineer ♦
Hope Alexander-Willis as
Tucker’s Secretary #1 ♦
Taylor Young as
Tucker’s Secretary #2 ♦
Jim Giovanni as
Police Sergeant ♦
Joe Lerer as
Reporter at Trial ♦
Morgan Upton as
Ingram ♦
Ken Grantham as
SEC Agent ♦
Mark Anger as
Blue ♦
Al Nalbandian as
Jury Foreman
Directed by: Francis Ford Coppola
Written by: Arnold Schulman
Written by: David Seidler
Producer: Fred Fuchs
Producer: Fred Roos
Executive producer: George Lucas
Associate producer: Teri Fettis
Music: Joe Jackson
Cinematography: Vittorio Storaro
Editing: Priscilla Nedd-Friendly
Casting: Janet Hirshenson, Jane Jenkins
Production design: Dean Tavoularis
Art director: Alex Tavoularis
Set decoration: Armin Ganz
Costumes: Milena Canonero
Makeup and hair: Lyndell Quiyou, Richard Dean, Terrell Baliel, Karen Bradley
Unit production manager: Ian Bryce
Unit production manager: Alan Collis
Stunts: Buddy Joe Hooker, Steve Davison, Tim Davison, Gary McLarty, Jimmy Nickerson, Dick Ziker
