The Movie

After the critical and commercial success of The Last of the Mohicans, Michael Mann found himself with some serious clout in theHollywood establishment. As an unabashed, drooling and hyperventilating fan of that 1992 film, I can only remain in awe of how Mann made such a fantastic movie out of one thoroughly coma-inducing snorer of a book. Heck, if I could only go back in time just once, I'd head back to the 19th-Century and congratulate Twain on his list of James Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses... but that's guano for another cave. After the success of Mohicans, the former Miami Vice executive producer turned his sights on a subject that had been on-the-brain for decades: a realistic take on "cops and robbers", based on real people and events, epic in scope while at its core remaining a gritty procedural. Mann's first take on the subject matter was the 1989 television movie L.A. Takedown, which formed the basis for 1995's big-budget remake Heat, a thrilling and first-rate crime drama that is primarily noted for its on-screen pairing of acting legends Al Pacino and Robert De Niro. Surprisingly enough, the $60 million movie grossed a disappointing $67 million in domestic box office, although the film cleaned up on home video, becoming a cable and rental favorite among the masses.

It's not too difficult to see why; some flaws aside, this is a great picture.

Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Pacino) is a hunter, a ruthlessly commanding and aggressively tenacious officer in L.A's Robbery/Homicide division. Hanna's a phenomenal cop, in no small part due to his inability to balance anything else in his life. He's been through three wives with no noticeable success on the domestic front; he remains icily distant from wife number three Justine (Diane Venora), who is ostensibly cheating on him, while ignoring her disaffected daughter Lauren (Natalie Portman). Hanna's criminal counterpart is Neil McCauley (De Niro), a first-class thief and consummate professional. McCauley is nothing short of smart, calculated, and guarded. He takes no risks, nor does he engage in any thrill-a-minute kicks. His criminal activity is his job, and he covers every single angle with nothing less than 100% dedication and patience. If he has to drill through steel, he spends his nights reading up on metallurgical stress fracture points. His personal credo provides proof positive of the dedication he retains for his profession: "Don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner." He lives alone, retains no personal attachments, and lives a non-descript life that will in no way distinguish him as anything other than mundane and ordinary.

Both men are tangential to each other. They are anthropomorphic personifications of their careers, the very best at what they do, the epitome of everything they represent, both positive and negative. Hanna cannot keep a marriage afloat, given that he has to disassociate what he does during the day with what (and who) he comes home to at night. And yet, Hanna can never achieve true disassociation, remaining obsessed to the spectre of his job. Comparatively, McCauley has the freedom to achieve any kind of domestic situation he desires, yet he consciously eschews that type of personal connection with anyone. His complete dedication to the perfection of his technique requires that he avoid any sense of permanency in all aspects of his life. Both men are razor-sharp brilliant, but the film transposes traditional roles – the brash, explosive intensity of the cop contrasts against the cool, calculating precision of the robber.

Heat begins with McCauley and his gang knocking over (literally) an armored car in a well-planned bond heist that goes awry thanks to loose cannon Waingro (Kevin Gage). A new recruit for the gig, Waingro's callous and capricious execution of one of the guards (thus forcing the gang to have to execute all of the guards) brings them to the attention of Hanna and his crew. While the heist is successful, McCauley ends up in the position of having to eliminate Waingro as an unacceptable loose-end. Through a fluke of luck, Waingro escapes execution, and McCauley moves on to another endeavor: the daytime heist of $12 million from a downtown L.A. bank, with Hanna hot on his tail.

The plot is almost simplistic in description, but the movie is anything but. The two-hour, forty-five minute film is an elaborate character study, and not just of the two main actors either. The storyline is rich with fully fleshed, realistically depicted and thoroughly researched characters. Val Kilmer delivers a strongly understated performance as Chris Shiherlis, McCauley's right-hand man and perhaps the closest thing he has to a brother. Chris is a degenerate gambler; any money he can score goes to paying off his various debts, a fact that does not go unnoticed by wife Charlene (Ashley Judd), a former prostitute who is always a stone's throw away from leaving him. Both actors are so strong in their roles that they leave an indelible impression on the film. Jon Voight makes much out of his small role as Nate, McCauley's contact and go-to man. He only has a handful of scenes, but he owns each and every one of them. Also memorable in their roles are Tom Sizemore and Danny Trejo as other members of McCauley's gang, Dennis Haysbert as a paroled con finding the road to legitimacy a hard one indeed, Amy Brennerman as McCauley's budding love interest, as well as Natalie Portman, Hank Azaria, and William Fichtner. There is a ton of great acting talent put on parade in this film.

The film suffers from a slightly bloated running time. The histrionics of Hanna's domestic life drag the film somewhat; some judicious editing may have made these elements more compelling. The subplot involving Waingro's murder of a black call-girl almost seems superfluous. Yet, Heat succeeds in almost every other facet. Mann's richly detailed script and cool directorial hand produced one of the most engaging crime dramas ever filmed. And the bank heist sequence is easily one of the most exciting and white-knuckle action scenes ever filmed, bar none.

Then there's the entire "Al Pacino / Robert De Niro in the same movie" angle. Those awaiting scene after scene of both actors squaring off against each other will be sorely disappointed. Even though De Niro and Pacino share only two scenes against each other, the mere presence of one carries over to the performance of the other. When Hanna professes admiration to McCauley's prowess, or when McCauley sits bewildered at what brought the heat on his crew, there's a metatextual cinematic connection between the conflict of the characters and the masterful performances of their respective actors.

The DVD

Heat comes in a deluxe two-disc special edition from Warner Brothers.

Video:

Heat is presented in its theatrical aspect ratio of 2.35:1, and has been anamorphically enhanced for your widescreen-viewing enjoyment. The film mostly looks good, with the dark, stylized look of LA coming to vibrant life. Colors are strong and richly delivered, while image sharpness is mostly consistent throughout the picture. Some minor print wear pops up throughout the transfer, as well as some edge-enhancement. Black levels are the only real detracting element; they are not quite as deep and delineated as they should be. Nighttime and dark scenes lack that requisite oomph needed for a highest-quality transfer. The film looks very good, but not quite in the impressive to excellent range.

Audio:

Next up is Pacino and De Niro: The Conversation, a ten minute featurette that details the climactic dinner scene that features both actors facing off against each other. Interviews with various critics, crew and cast members, and interview footage of Pacino and De Niro are interspersed with clips from the scene as its context is analyzed and discussed. Especially interesting is how Michael Mann discusses how much he, Pacino, and De Niro "couldn't wait" to film the scene. Understandable, to be sure, but the scene's success is not in its fireworks, but rather its understated intensity. This featurette is short but provides some genuinely engaging material.

The last featurette is Return to the Scene of the Crime, a twelve minute look back at the various locations used throughout the filming of Heat. Not quite as compelling as the other material, this is still a reasonably informative featurette, but not one to which one might return to often unless you had an interest in location scouting. Rounding out the supplements are ten minutes of deleted scenes (there are 11 of them in all).