Heat
Written
and directed by Michael Mann
Starring
Robert DeNiro, Al Pacino, Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, Tom Sizemore, Ashley
Judd, and Natalie Portman
171
minutes. Rated R. Original aspect ratio: 2.35:1. 1995
Snubbed by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and the AFI,
constantly omitted from magazines and websites’ top ten or even top one
hundred lists, and widely recognized as “that really long bank robbery
movie”, Michael Mann’s epic film Heat has not gotten the credit
or the respect it deserves as not only one of the greatest films ever made,
but as a tragedy in the best Shakespearean tradition, and as a truly remarkable
work of art.
Heat
is
a two hour and fifty one minute epic written and directed by Michael Mann,
the person who not only created the television program Miami Vice,
but also wrote and directed The Last of the Mohicans and the Best
Picture nominee The Insider. It features a cast most would consider
talented -- Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro, Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, Tom Sizemore,
Ashley Judd, Natalie Portman, and more. The story is that of two men, Vincent
Hanna (Pacino) and Neil McCauley (DeNiro) who, despite the fact that they
are so alike, are on a collision course from the moment the film begins
-- because McCauley is a master thief and Hanna is a cop.
The script is a work of art unto itself. Not the dialogue so much -- truth
be told, there are places in which the dialogue is lacking. But the plotting,
the paths that Mann sends these characters on, is perfectly laid out and
executed. The film plays out like a Shakespearean tragedy -- everyone is
condemned to their fate not by the nature of the situation, but by who
they are. This is suggested from the very beginning of the film, but a
scene about halfway through lays it all out. Hanna pulls McCauley over
on the freeway, and cheerfully invites him to coffee. There, in one of
the film’s best scenes, they have a conversation that reveals each is more
like the other than he was previously willing to believe. “I don't know
how to do anything else,” Hanna reflects almost sadly. “Neither do I,”
replied McCauley. “I don't much want to, either,” Hanna realizes. “Neither
do I,” agrees McCauley. But then the course of the rest of the film --
and its tragic conclusion -- is revealed. “We sit here like a couple of
regular fellas,” Hanna says. “You do what you do, I do what I gotta do.
And now that we've been face to face, If I'm there, and I've gotta put
you away, I won't like it. But I tell ya, if it's between you and some
poor bastard whose wife you're gonna turn into a widow -- brother, you
are going down.” McCauley considers that, then carefully replies: “There's
a flipside to that coin. What if you do got me boxed in, and I gotta put
you down? We’ve been face to face, yeah. But you will not get in my way.
I will not hesitate -- for a second.” Both men seem to consider this, and
they know that, despite the fact that they could have been friends in another
life, one of them will have to die by the other’s hand. “Maybe we’ll never
see each other again,” McCauley suggests, almost hopefully. He knows though,
and so does Hanna, that is not the case. They will meet, and there will
be a reckoning. Because of who these men are, and because neither of them
is willing to stray from their set path, willing to back off, they are
fated to meet again, this time in 
battle.
Who are
these characters? Lonely, lonely people. Hanna is a man who is “passing
[his] wife on the downslopes of a marriage, [his] third.” Why? All he’s
committed to is tracking down criminals, like a hunter stalking his prey.
He has no time or desire to share a life with his wife (wonderfully portrayed
by Diane Verona). “You’ve been walking through our life dead,” she tells
him, and she’s right. The only time he seems alive in the film is when
he’s going after McCauley. This is best seen in the scene where his wife,
both of them having come to terms with the fact that their marriage will
not survive, gives him permission, after a fashion, to go after McCauley.
He kisses her goodbye and speeds down the stairs. There’s no sound, save
for the music, so it’s almost as if he’s rushing down the stairs so fast
his feet aren’t even touching the ground. Is he happy about this? No. But
he knows that this is all he has. He even says it: “all I am is what I’m
goin’ after.” We have a lonely man here -- a man with a wife and a daughter
-- but a lonely man all the same, because the only thing he has in his
life approximating happiness is chasing after guys like McCauley.
McCauley’s
no different. Though when straight-out asked if he’s lonely, he says “I
am alone, I am not lonely,” he’s lying. As Roger Ebert of the Chicago
Sun-Times put it, “he is in fact the loneliest man in the world.” There’s
a scene that illustrates this perfectly: McCauley comes home, lays his
gun on a counter, and goes to the window and stares at the sea. The bleak
colors in the shot (the scene is painted almost completely in blues and
blacks), the sadness in DeNiro’s eyes, and the fact that calling McCauley’s
house 
“sparsely
furnished” is generous (there is almost no furniture of any kind), makes
this short scene a perfect illustration of McCauley’s mood and emotions.
The fact that McCauley is so painfully lonely could probably have something
to do with the way he lives his life: “if you wanna be making moves on
the street,” he says, “have no attachments, allow nothing in your life
that you cannot walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you spot the heat
around the corner.” How can someone who lives by that credo not be lonely?
Another
interesting aspect of the loneliness of the characters is the fact that
all the scenes in the film which involve kissing or lovemaking are oddly
passionless (ironic, considering the title). One might think this to be
simply a weakness in Michael Mann’s directing, but look at The Last
of the Mohicans, another Mann film that has a very passionate love
scene. Mann designed the love scenes in Heat to be passionless,
to show the distance and, yes, loneliness that the characters feel.
Technically,
Heat
delivers. It’s very well-shot -- not only does Mann have a good sense of
the camera and how to use it, but the lighting contributes perfectly to
the mood of the film. Mann and cinematographer Dante Spinotti paint Heat
and the city of Los Angeles in drab, bleak colors that serve to illustrate
and emphasize the emotions that the characters are feeling. On the other
hand, the shots are not so dark and dreary that the film depresses. No,
the shots are well-lit, clear, full of color, and interesting (on the DVD
at least -- I know that on the VHS version the colors tend to bleed and
give the film a dreary look). The action sequences are perfectly choreographed
and executed, from the elaborate armored car heist the film opens with,
to the massive gunfight in the street, to the final cat-and-mouse confrontation
between Hanna and McCauley. Mike Clark of USA Today agrees, saying
that the shootout sequence is “the greatest action scene of recent times.”
Slow motion is used sparingly but effectively, and Mann even finds use
for a fast shutter shot (like in Saving Private Ryan) in the shootout sequence.
The sets in the film are believable -- mainly 
because
Heat
was shot on location in Los Angeles. And the props and the special effects
are realistic, and lend authenticity to the piece.
Another
aspect of Heat which contributes greatly to the mood is the score.
Eliot Goldenthal (Alien3,
Interview With A Vampire, A Time To Kill, Michael Collins)
composed much of the music for this film, and the result is a sad, almost
haunting score that weaves itself in and out of each scene without being
noticed. Goldenthal’s score manages to heighten the emotions of the characters
and enhance the tension of a scene. And in the final, tragic moments of
the film, the song “God Moving Over The Face Of The Waters,” by Moby, combined
with Goldenthal’s scoring, brings the film to it’s conclusion with more
power that should be expected of a piece of music, especially one as simple
as “God Moving...” It’s mostly piano, with some strings thrown in for good
measure, and it works wonderfully to bring out the emotions in the final
scene and conclude the film.
It’s
hardly necessary to say the acting in this film is good. When you have
actors like Al Pacino (The Devil’s Advocate, Scent of A Woman, The Godfather),
Robert DeNiro (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Cop Land), Val Kilmer (The
Doors, Tombstone, At First Sight) l
eading
a supporting cast which includes Tom Sizemore (Saving Private Ryan,
Bringing Out The Dead) Jon Voight (Midnight Cowboy, Deliverance,
The Rainmaker, Varsity Blues), Ashley Judd (Kiss The Girls, Double
Jeopardy), Diane Verona (The Insider, William Shakespeare’s Romeo
+ Juliet), Amy Brenneman (TV’s NYPD Blue, Judging Amy), Natalie
Portman (The Professional, Beautiful Girls, Star Wars: Episode One -
The Phantom Menace) along with a plethora of other talented greats,
it seems obvious that the acting will be up to snuff, and it is. Mann directs
his actors well, and they respond well, creating from the script, Mann’s
direction, and their own talent, complex characters that ultimately share
one characteristic -- loneliness.
That
seems to be what this film is about -- loneliness. That, and our inability
to change, how we are so set in our ways that our path has already been
laid out for us. Why do the characters indulge in the self-destructive
behavior that they do, when they know there is a better, safer, easier
way? As Shakespeare put it in Julius Caesar, "the fault, dear Brutis,
lies not in our stars but in ourselves." Mann is telling us that our fate
is defined by who we are, not by the people we know or the situations we
get ourselves into. That's why Hanna's marriage self-destructs, that's
why McCauley embarks on his mission of vengeance near the end of the film,
and that's why Charlene (Ashley Judd) can't cut loose of Chris (Val Kilmer).
And that’s
what makes Heat a true work of art. Mann manages to manipulate the
medium of film to bring us this message. He brings it to us within the
framework of an epic, tragic story, and he does it with skill, style, and
craftsmanship. There’s a reason Mann has only released three major motion
pictures -- it’s because he takes his time with each one. Each film is
a work of art that must be carefully constructed, molded, and crafted.
I would
say without hesitation that Heat is one of the greatest films ever
made.
Bottom line: Michael Mann, one of our greatest directors, delivers an epic
masterpiece that is easily one of the greatest films ever made.
My grade:
A+
My advice:
Don't make a mockery of this film and of Michael Mann by watching the cropped
version. Go with the widescreen version, please.
Get the movie
poster!
