HEAT
A film review by Alex Brenner
Copyright 1996 Alex Brenner
Directed by Michael Mann Robert De Niro Al Pacino Val Kilmer Tom Sizemore Ashley Judd
Before I proceed, two pre scripta. Firstly, I am aware that there has been recently posted another review of Heat, which was largely negative. That the tone of this critique is vastly different should not be taken as a criticism of that article, which contains a few valid points. Secondly, this is not a review, nor could it be. I have not seen the film for a few months, and thus I am not concerned with minutiae of detail and plot. This is, rather, a criticism, and therefore assumes that the reader possess a ready familiarity with the 'text.'
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'Heat' is often billed as a cerebral action movie, its major selling points being the unification of De Niro and Pacino, and direction from Michael Mann, who achieved a notable success in 1991 with the action-fuelled 'Last of the Mohicans.' However, the film fails on that front, and it would be a mistake to judge it on the same basis as pulp like 'Independence Day.' It is unquestionably the work of an auteur, and it attempts to convey what are, for a mainstream film, astonishing depths of meaning and significance. Its slow, contemplative pace is more reminiscent of art European cinema than the Hollywood blockbuster tradition to which it undoubtedly alludes. It would be easy to dismiss the plot as perfunctory. After all, there exists no great innovation in its formulaic telling of lawmaker and breaker mano-a-mano; its use of close encounters and near misses as plot devices is not going to win praise. But then, the plot need not be any more than perfunctory: its place is to support exploration of the two protagonists and associated themes. Indeed, the extent of the focus is interesting, for it persists to the point where the subsidiaries almost become like a chorus. The eloquent commentaries delivered by some of the lesser participants are clearly fulfilling the need for a cementing of imagery. It is a thing which can be hard to do on film; Scorsese uses voice-over, for instance, to explain motivations and desires that might otherwise have to be tediously run through with action. Mann is not so explicit, but there is certainly something of this here. It would almost certainly be a misinterpretation to state that Mann cast De Niro and Pacino for their box-office pulling power. It is far more likely that he wished to aid a vertical coherence in resolution of theme. Permit me to explain. De Niro and Pacino's characters are disconnected from their peers, and isolated in general - indeed, this maybe is one criticism that could fairly be levelled at Mann: that these ideas are somewhat overstressed. Time and again, we see Pacino failing to communicate with his family and colleagues, both in a literal and a figurative sense. We are told often enough that his marriages have failed, and then, of course, his daughter tries to kill himself. Similarly, De Niro is always picked out from a crowd; we see his face, focus razor-sharp, over a blur of city lights. So we see that De Niro is set apart from society, suggested by plot, dialogue, and images. However, this stressing is ultimately not too intrusive. The two are both unusally able: Pacino is a great cop, De Niro a great crook, and yet both are poor at communication, despite their intelligence and instinctive powers of understanding and empathy. Beginning to recognise a pattern here? Mann's use of De Niro and Pacino enhances his exposition no end, as they are fundamentally reprising the roles they play in real life. Thus do we see themes repeated and enhanced at different levels of the work. Where there exists a unity of vision between a poster and subtext, there exists a coherent, intelligent vision, or so Mann would have us believe. Of course, one might take this further, and suggest that Mann is cheekily making a statement concerning the greatness of his work. When De Niro and Pacino finally come together, in the film, in life, the sparks fly. If one is concerned momentarily with these themes of seperateness and isolation, one might be inclined to see the film as a paean to such a condition. There is no doubt that Mann reserves a certain reverence for his two heroes, particularly De Niro. His portrayal of their genius speaks of an admiration for men such as these, whose wit, loneliness, empathetic skills, and inability to relate spring from the same source: their observation and perception of people, the world, and the ways in which they work. There is of course, in this, a certain arrogance, which is explied at a number of points, like when De Niro casually seduces a girl, or Pacino at a crimescene, talking down to his lesser contemporaries. These men feel a certain aloofness, because they see repeatedly evinced their superiority over other people, hence, again, their failure to possess a circle of friends, a condition stemming from the lack of any desire to associate closely with thos they consider to be their inferiors. Strongly implied in all this is a realisation of Mann's persona, the auteur, in De Niro and Pacino. I daresay that it would be relatively difficult to seperate those elements in the heroes which are Mann's invention and those which are autocharacteristic. There is nothing wrong with this, indeed, it is a positive boon. It is quite clear that Mann has invested in 'Heat' a good deal of personal anguish; perhaps the film was conceived as some kind of therapy! Certainly, there is in 'Heat' much to suggest a working through of the isolated, intellectual personality, its implications and weaknesses. It is thus a moment of great emotional significance when these two meet. Again, the 'cafe' scence was billed as the first scene shared by De Niro and Pacino, the meeting of two great forces, a comment which may just as well be applied within the film as without. Here we see for the first time a recognition (seeded in the scene where Pacino photographs De Niro in open space from a crane) of equality, of another person who might be considered equal. This resolution might seem akin to the old saw 'Two sides of the same coin,' and indeed it is. However, by saying more than just 'the crook and the cop are two sides of the same coin,' Mann invites a more plangent evocation of the joys of companionship. 'The crook and the cop are both sides of the same coin, which is an unusual coin, possessing several odd relationships with other coins' might be more appropriate. Because Mann portrays wonderfully the desolation and pain that lie at the heart of Pacino and De Niro's worlds, it is altogether wonderful to see the two united. It is a testament to 'Heat's' tragic stature that this scene is agonising rather than sentimental, for one may choose to see the film also as a story of unrequited love. After all, the cafe scene bore strong sexual resonances for this viewer at least. And if not sexual, then at least something concerned with love. For what is love if is not the apotheosis of your being in another person? Something along this line occurs between De Niro and Pacino: Pacino recognises that De Niro knows him already far better than his wife or child ever will, and De Niro sees that Pacino understands his motivations and character better than his henchmen or his picked-up floozie ever will. The cafe scene links directly to the final shot, the two holding hands in recognition of the profundity of their communion, of both the acknowledged inevitability of the loss, and its sickening futility. People have complained of 'Heat' being predictable. Well, Neil McAuley might say the same: in the cafe scene there is also an implicit recognition that one of them will be 'taken down' by the other, one consigned to the darkness of death, the other once more to that of loneliness. This is really the core of the film: an exploration of this mentality, with all it has to say about the operation of human relationships; it is an attempt to aestheticise the coldness of self-aware existence, and the profound satisfaction to be derived from an unqualified respect, and subsequently, friendship. Of course, the tragic course of the film never permits that friendship to blossom, but the hint of their mutual respect is enough to reveal the concept. By emoting with such acuity and clarity, Mann makes a bee-line for the soul, so to speak. 'Heat' is enormously affecting, because it is accurate: therefore, the enormous pain experienced by Pacino at the end, a pain, it should be said, tinged with a funereal, longing, respect, or even love, is also experienced by the sympathetic viewer. Its resolution is in some ways a happy one, as the viewer comes, with Pacino, to recognise the contribution that De Niro made to Pacino's life, to lend hope, and that Pacino's life will ultimately be the better for it. So the film is plangent and mournful, yet, like all properly resolved tragedy, somehow heartwarming. All this would, of course, be for very little, were it not for 'Heat's' technical brilliance. That its ideas should be so excellently realised owes much to the synergy between the various cinematic elements at work. Obviously, the main artistic impetus is Mann, the quality of whose direction can be judged from my earlier comments, but whose script is also very good. The cinematography is excellent, ceaslessy portraying a sharp, blue, cold world, where the surfaces repel all dust. The lighting observes superbly the rhythms of the characters, and there is a fine score. Special mention must of course go to De Niro, who provides a performance of subtlety, power, realism and absolute control. It is his finest screen moment since 'The King of Comedy,' and stands utterly unashamed in the company of Vito Corleone, Travis Bickle and Jake LaMotta. One thing is for certain: there is no facet of De Niro's portrayal of Neil McAuley which does not vastly outshine Nicolas Cage's in 'Leaving Las Vegas,' which was in itself, of course, a remarkably fine performance. The real blot on the landscape is Pacino, but enough has been made of the weakness of his performance by reviewers. It is only fair to say that he suffers by comparison: he won an Oscar for a performance, in 'Scent of a Woman,' which was a good bit worse than his showing here. However, in comparison to the wonders worked elsewhere, he does let the side down a trifle. Is it possible that he thought he was still on Broadway trying to reach row X? (It seems that all great films have an actor who underperforms; 'Taxi Driver' had (that dreadful woman whose name currently escapes me), 'Bladerunner' had Sean Young. Make of this what you will. ) That last sentence implied that I consider 'Heat' to be a great film, and any inference made to that effect would be correct. It is unusual, when one goes to see many films, to have one leap out and hit one in the face with its sheer brilliance, but that is what 'Heat' did. In my time as a regular cinemagoer - not, admittedly, all that long - only 'Se7en' and 'Schindler's List' performed this feat to the same extent as 'Heat.' This is not to say that these are the only films that I consider superb, but they are the only such that I saw first on the big screen. Of these elite three, I would say that perhaps 'Se7en' lacks the timelessness or extreme depth that constitute a genuinely great film. 'Heat,' on the other hand, does not lack these, which in my opinion leaves it in level contention with 'Schindler's List' and 'GoodFellas' for best film of the decade, thus far.
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