Revisited: Heat

Now 15 years old, Mann’s LA crime saga remains one of the genre’s strongest entries. In a sense, Heat is a hyper-crime drama; the classic blurring of cop versus robber taken further, the near invincibility of escaping bank robbers played out to exaggerated effect, and the ultimate commitment to the life of crime dramatized and infused with sympathy. Filmed sans soundstage in over 65 locations around LA, Mann captures a grey and dismal, black and shady street level feel, one that turns a bit more neon and nocturnal in Collateral.

This film marked a long anticipated pairing of Pacino and De Niro. Fortunately, we still have this to look back on with the recent blunder of 2008’s horrendous Righteous Kill. The film is littered with stars, young and old, contributing to its nearly 3-hour runtime. Musicians Henry Rollins and Tone Loc, youngster Natalie Portman and veteran Jon Voight, bit parts from Tom Noonan and Jeremy Piven, and of course Val Kilmer, Danny Trejo, Wes Studi, and Ted Levine contributing to the eclectic cast. Mann navigates the population rather well, pulling in characters as he needs them and coordinating their interactions as they affect the main storyline.

The film’s visual style feels as if it spawned from the cement architecture highlighted in the film. Grays, black, and industrial discomfort pervade the screen. Even houses are of modern, high-tech glass and strange angles, almost inhospitable to those that live there. If we can ignore the handful of distracting composite shots, we are rewarded with beautiful explorations of the glowing Los Angeles nightlife; green, blue, and white glowing orbs sprinkled into an expansive darkness. Again, Mann further explored this affinity in Collateral, set entirely at night. Yet Heat is much lonelier, darker, and more obviously dangerous. Even the warmth of daytime plays host the epic and enduring shoot-out; five minutes of non-stop gunfire with bullet holes riddling everything accept the fleeing criminals. It is hard to believe that the body count only stacks up to 18.

The action, consistent throughout the film, while on the one hand obsessive and heightened, remains grounded in the realm of control. The heists are not visually orgies of exploding machines and bursting body parts. Rather, there is an obvious intent, a professionally calculated and practiced organization. This includes both sides of the law; the gang’s methodical and seemingly spontaneous hits as well as the deliberate, if unsuccessful, authorities in pursuit. The single spark to the eventual downfall is the improvised moment of emotion during a job, an immature and tragic slip of professionalism. This marks the focus of the film as a whole.

Two men, both the best at what they do and each on different sides of the law is not a new concept to the crime drama. But Mann’s film breathes new life (or death) into the dynamic. By mirroring, almost person to person, the rival forces, he can play with the actions of each and play them off each other. While De Niro’s crew celebrate a successful hit, Pacino’s men hide for careful observation. Minutes later, the police are seen celebrating their achievements, replicating and allowing comparison of the two outfits. On the individual level, each of these men, so dedicated to their lifestyle, remain incapable of holding personal relationships with anyone for anything but business. The cop’s three failed marriages are directly mirrored by the criminal’s easily evacuated friendships.

Heat is a long and multilayered film that weaves numerous lines of story and as such demands a long running time. Yet each time I return to it I become more fascinated by its characters and their weaknesses perceived as strengths. To a degree the film is sad, nearing pathetic by questioning the value of one’s work over one’s relationships and the allowing life to end without anything to leave behind. Michael Mann has followed it admirably with both The Insider and Collateral but has yet to top it.