Heat (1996, VHS)

That I put off seeing director and writer Michael Mann's stylized epic 1995 cops 'n robbers film Heat for nine years is a crime for which I have no excuse. After reading this review, you'll have no excuse at all.

The film's graceful story arc, subtly textured ensemble performances, and a clever mix of classic gumshoe, John Woo-styled action climaxes, taut script, and stand alone set pieces make it a model of the modern cops 'n robbers genre.

Atmospherically, the neon-lit blind alleys of both the protagonists' minds and the City of Angels are dark, forbidding and foreboding places. Yet there's an ethereal underbelly of beauty and a warped code of honor at the end of the maze.

Interestingly, in a complex movie that runs 9 minutes short of three hours, the main protagonists played by two of the most dominant male film actors of the last half of the 20th Century only meet face-to-face twice in the screenplay, and then only for about five minutes each time. Accordingly, it's testimony to the individual talents of "method" actors sans pareil Al Pacino (who plays LAPD Detective Vincent Hanna), and Robert De Niro (who plays ex-con Neil McCauley) that the audience viscerally "feels" the two men facing off in a chess-like duel of life and death from start to finish.

Add to the mix an all-star cast comprised of Tom Sizemore, Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, Ashley Judd, Natalie Portman, Danny Trejo, William Fichtner,Amy Brennerman, Dennis Haysbert and Diane Venora, sensational cinematography by Dante Spinotti, and an appropriately "LA underbelly-styled " score by Elliot Goldenthal, and you have a treat for all the senses.


THE FILM:
Briefly stated, "Heat" is the story of Detective Hanna's zealous pursuit across Los Angeles of ex-con McCauley and his gang of would-be bank robbers out to make their final "score." Hanna and McCauley are each masters of their side of the cops 'n robbers business, and each is willingly paying a huge price in his personal life to maintain that status. They grudgingly gain increasing respect for each other as they move and counter-move toward the inevitable bloody coda.

The first of Pacino's and De Niro's fleeting face-to-face encounters in the film is a set piece over cups of coffee in an all-night diner half-way through the narrative, after Hanna pulls McCauley over on the freeway. The two protagonists quickly -- almost matter-of-factly in an unexpected moment of truce -- recognize themselves as mirror images of each other staring across an abyss from opposing sides of the thin blue line. They're as evenly matched in their verbal face-off as on the street:

McCauley: "You see me doing thrill-seeking holdups with a `Born to Lose' tattoo on my chest?"

Hanna: "No."

McCauley: "Maybe we should both be doing something else pal."

Hanna: "I don't know how to do anything else."

McCauley: "Neither do I."

Hanna: "I don't much want to either."

McCauley: "Neither do I."


The scene is a masterpiece of taut writing and understated acting that rivals Joe Pesci's and Ray Liotta's verbal sparring in an Italian restaurant in Martin Scorcese's seminal gangland film Goodfellas.

And their second encounter, at Los Angeles Airport at the film's climax, harkens back to the climactic San Francisco Airport chase scene of an earlier police classic, Bullitt, starring Steve McQueen.

Matching John Woo's style of powerfully dramatic violence, the film's main shootout scene in the heart of downtown Los Angeles unhesitatingly takes no prisoners...it's an indiscriminate bloodbath for innocents, cops and perps alike that reminded this reviewer of the real-life TV footage of the famous Hollywood shootout of a few years ago.

Ultimately, though, "Heat" is a cerebral battle between two protagonists fighting their own demons while fighting each other. No matter how much Mann brings in subplots, it's all about Hanna and McCauley trying to crawl into each other's minds and psyches as they move inexorably toward their fateful ultimate confrontation.

If the movie bogs down at times -- subplot dialogue often runs several minutes a conversation before the narrative resumes its main thread -- Mann should be forgiven his occasional excesses. Consider the power of this parting subplot shot at Hanna from his increasingly estranged third wife, Justine, played by Venora:

"You live among the remains of dead people. You sift through the detritus. You read the terrain. You search for signs of passing, for the scent of your prey, and then you hunt them down. That's the only thing you're committed to. The rest is the mess you leave as you pass through."

IN SUM:
In his 1980s cult classics Thief and Manhunter Mann established himself as a master of mood in the celluloid criminal world. "Heat" is the culmination of that arc of work.

In its own way, "Heat" is a big, somewhat bloated film that nonetheless is a masterpiece of film-making...it's a daring effort that successfully navigates the treacherous shoals of heavy atmospherics to yield nuggets of brilliant dialogue and acting.

If the melodramatic whole isn't completely the sum of its many brilliant parts, get over it. Overall it's a joy to watch the confluence of good writing, good acting, and intelligent film-making.