Synopsis:

Al Pacino portrays Vincent Hanna, a cop obsessed with bringing down master criminal Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro) and his tight-knit crew.

Thematic Analysis and Review:

In 1995, Michael Mann achieved something no other film director had been capable of accomplishing; Al Pacino and Robert De Niro were finally set to work with one another in the same film*. Renowned for their tireless work ethic, their obsessive preparation and their legacy of skilled performances, the thought of Pacino and De Niro in the same film was a dream come true.

But there needed to be a perfect film** for them to expose their raw acting talent to one another. In Michael Mann’s ‘Heat’, the two of them are presented a blank canvas to operate upon, and as a result, deliver highly effective but yet (on the surface) vastly different performances***.

‘Heat’, in a basic sense, is simply about cops and robbers, which is not all that original of an idea. Especially since Hollywood has tended to exploit the genre to such a degree that it has become extremely difficult to discern one crime film from another. But ‘Heat’ is different. Superficially, the film is about an obsessed and tightly wound cop, Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino), in hot pursuit of a crew who are led by a controlled and emotionally restrained individual, Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro). However, in retrospect, the film is about so much more then simply “good” guys and “bad” guys. It’s about obsession and loneliness. It’s about respect and admiration. It’s about the human condition and how frail it truly can be.

Ian Nathan, writer for Empire Magazine****, may sum it up best when discussing the idea of thematic depth within ‘Heat’: “Michael Mann manages to encompass layers of character and theme, as well as action and extraordinary cinematic technique, to create a coruscating picture of the causes, consequences and human costs of crime in a fragmented world (2001).

To put it simply, Vincent Hanna is a man possessed in his pursuit of Neil McCauley. So much so that it accelerates the deconstruction of his personal relationship he has with his wife (Justine), as they can no longer communicate on a one-to-one level. Neil, on the other hand, lives a structured existence with no attachments to anything (not even furniture). If need be, he is set to flee at a moments notice. As he so “poignantly” points out, “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”. Both of these men live by rules and procedures. They are the best at what they do because they discipline themselves to do so. It is only in personal communication with others that they are left unaccustomed, lost for words.

Nothing sums this up more than when Vincent has been called to the scene of a homicide. A prostitute has been murdered and Vincent seems at ease with it (as if he is used to it). It is only when the mother of the murdered girl runs onto the scene that Vincent is left speechless. He does not know how to verbally console the mother, nor does he know how to assist her in any other way. He simply stares at her, lost in her cries of agony.

T put it simply; both Vincent and Neil are emotionally fragile individuals. One is a cop and one is a criminal, but yet they share a common bond in their lack of understanding of how to connect with someone on a personal and emotional level. That is why their first meeting during the coffee shop sequence is so crucial to the understanding of these men as emotionally aloof human beings. According to Ian Nathan, this scene is the foundation for the whole film: “On the surface, it is just a superficial conversation-two guys shooting the breeze-but actually it’s the delicate dance of two disparate souls finding a connection” (2001).

The Loneliness of Los Angeles

‘Heat’ is a visually stunning film in the fact that it takes place within the overpopulated Los Angeles, but yet is shot in such a way as to depict it as a lost and lonely land *****. Mann and cinematographer Dante Spinotti present a unique vision of the City of Angels: “Filmed across 65 separate LA locations (and no soundstages), this is an urban milieu almost space-age in its abstract beauty, but emotionally desolate, a blank canvass against which the dispossessed act out their desperate dramas. Nothing anchors people-all the houses are stunningly angular, magnificent architectural vacuums free of personality” (Nathan, 2001).
This is no easy feat to accomplish and definitely requires the directing chops of a highly skilled artist such as Mann. To create a sense of anguish and isolation in a land so immense is a true indicator of the talent of this auteur.

‘Heat’ is a highly ambitious (perhaps overambitious?) film which focuses on the plights of eighteen separate individuals******, but yet still manages to create a sense of surreal silence. There is a tremendous amount of dialogue in the film, and it is sparked by extreme violence during some instances, but it never becomes a film one can comfortably connect with*******. All of the key combatants in this extravaganza are emotionally cut off from one another, and as a result, the film becomes more about the quest for acceptance and understanding rather than about the physical confrontation between Hanna and McCauley.

Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of the rock band Red Hot Chili Peppers, may have said it best about the loneliness one may feel in the town that isLos Angeles. In the song ‘Under the Bridge’, Anthony makes a heartfelt reflection about the idea of being alone: “Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner, Sometimes I feel like my only friend, Is the city I live in, The City of Angels, Lonely as I am together we cry”. Is there any better way to sum up the emotional detachment felt by the characters within this masterpiece of a film?

Synopsis:

Max (Mel Gibson) is a cop dedicated to keeping the roads of a desolate lookingAustraliasafe in the near future. But soon after a fellow police officer is severely injured, Max decides to retire from the force. During his hiatus, his wife and child are attacked by a gang of marauding bikers causing Max to seek bitter vengeance against them.

Review:

SPOILERS are included in this piece

‘Mad Max’ is a post-apocalyptic action film with elements of horror, sci-fi and melodrama. But at its core, ‘Mad Max’ is a Western. During the early stages of Australian Cinema, Australia struggled to define a cultural identity for themselves through the language and visuals of their films. As it is with most national cinemas, many filmmakers import ideas, themes and structures from the most dominant filmmaking country in the world, theUnited States of America. One of the most prevalent genres/structures in, not only film, but in literature has always been the Western. The Western, at its most basic level, can be used to symbolically express emotional truths about everyday society. As a result, the conventions and basic narrative structure of the Western have morphed into many types of films ranging from James Mangold’s ‘Copland’ (1997) to David Cronenberg’s ‘A History of Violence’ (2005). The Western has many simple truths and focuses on issues such as family, loyalty, adversity and heroism. So, one cannot truly blame George Miller for incorporating many elements of the Western into ‘Mad Max’. Every nation does it.

It is a very difficult task for national cinemas to define themselves (through their films) when striving to eliminate the imposing influence of American entertainment. American films have always set the standards for modern day storytelling, and have become extremely successful as a result. So in response, what other nations tend to do is to adopt the structure of the American film, and then deconstruct its conventions by using their own themes and symbols. This is definitely the case in regards to ‘Mad Max’. It is an action film fused with a Western, but still manages to create a solid Australian identity anyways.

Here is my Western take on the film. It is a story focused on the idea of a lawless land ruled by lawless people (Simplicity at its best). Multitudes of men ride into town on their motor bikes (horses), and proceed to terrorize it. The police, on the other hand, are powerless to do anything about it. That is until Max (the sheriff) decides to take a stand. It is not out of loyalty to the force or the land, but rather it is a vengeful journey for Max, who seeks retribution for the destruction of his family*. He may be alone in his battle, but his isolation allows for him to bring a sense of HIS own law to the land*.

Australian film and the Western, for that matter, have always been built on one necessary contradicting theme, Wilderness versus Civilization. The motorcycle maniacs enter the civilized city from the wilderness of the land, and then systematically deconstruct the structure that has been set in place. They are anti-establishment and anti-authority, and as a result, carnage and mayhem are enacted with playful exuberance. The wilderness is typically defined as an area that symbolizes masculinity in the Western. There is a kill or be killed mentality that exists throughout it. As a result, the civilized ones are unsure of how to deal with the wanderers from the land, and thus fail.

Max is a member of the civilized world. Yes, he does dress in black leather (which gains him points for masculinity), but he is unequipped to match the unpredictable rawness presented to him by these psychopathic marauders. After quitting the force, he further shies away from any form of masculine trait by becoming a family man. He buys a dog, expresses emotions to his wife (he was unable to before), and journeys with his kin in the family automobile. His mode of dress changes as well (he wears light colors which identifies his transition into a feminized male), which further works to strip him of his title as ideal male. As a result of these symbolic transitions, he is unable to protect his family in their time of need (when they are viciously murdered by the infiltrating bandits). It is only when he has lost everything that he begins to regain a sense of his manhood. He retrieves his black leather garb, obtains a powerful, 600 horsepower beast of a machine (car), and heads out after the bikers. It is at this point that he leaves the civilized world behind and dares to confront the untamed and unfamiliar wilderness landscape. He is expressionless (in other words, emotionless) and determined to kill these men in their own land. To win, he must become what he is not. He feels no pity or any remorse, especially when he handcuffs one of the bikers to a car leaking gas. Max is a new man with a new identity. He has adapted to the harsh landscape and, as a result, emerges victorious.

Australian Cinema is, in a large way, most concerned about the representation of masculinity in their films. It is an important thematic element to them as it goes to resemble the fortitude, strength and ruggedness of the Australian male. The fact that Max drives off into the wilderness at the end of the film only works to further solidify this point. Max is forever changed and he cannot return to what he was. In two sequels that followed, Max is a lonely wanderer, one with the wilderness. His body becomes beaten and abused but his survival instincts have increased. He has endured because he has adapted to the ways of the land.

‘Mad Max’ is a very low budget film but for its lack of money, the film makes up for it in terms of raw energy and mind-blowing stunts (especially for 1979). Mel Gibson was an unknown at this time, and his Australian accent is prevalent as ever. In retrospect, it is actually a shame that Mel Gibson became such a star in North America (Bear with me here). The fact that audiences will immediately recognize him undermines the overall strength of the film (in my mind). We know that he will succeed….it’s Mel Gibson. Back in 1979, however, audiences didn’t know what to expect, which made this film an enjoyable thrill without preconceived notions of any kind. With this being said, the film still continues to hold its own, and remains one of the most successful and important films in Australian film history.

Synopsis:

After the tragic death of their infant son, John (Sam Neill) and Rae (Nicole Kidman) decide to embark on a sea vacation to help them cope with their loss. However, after three weeks into their journey, they come across a seemingly deserted sail boat. As they study it from afar, they suddenly notice a man aggressively rowing towards them in a dinghy. Hughie (Billy Zane) comes aboard in a panic and declares that everyone on board that ship has died from food poisoning, and that he is the only survivor. John, in disbelief, decides to search the boat himself, and in an instant, their journey becomes a nightmare in more ways then one.

Analysis:

SPOILERS are included in this piece.

‘Dead Calm’ is a simple film. Its story structure largely focuses on the exploits of three people set adrift-both physically and emotionally-in the Great Barrier Reef (off the coast of Australia). The setting is defined by an extremely vast and spacious landscape, but yet the thematic elements prevalent in the film are of claustrophobia and loneliness. Director Phillip Noyce is able to create a foreboding sense of dread throughout most of the film by incorporating many tight framing shots (especially when he frames Rae’s face) and by staging many scenes in small enclosed areas.

As previously mentioned, ‘Dead Calm’ is a very lonely film. Other than the three characters, this film is devoid of any other human element. And even then, there are very few scenes in which the audience witnesses the three characters interacting with one another on screen. Of course, there are scenes between Rae and Hughie, but for the most part, their isolation from one another highlights how truly cut off these characters are from society and themselves.

Adding to these feelings of isolation and loneliness is, perhaps, the most hauntingly written score ever penned for a feature film. The music is eerily chilling, and creates such a sense of trepidation within the audience that at times the film is overly uncomfortable to watch. Graeme Revell, in charge of the original music for the film, establishes such a sense of unease that it provides the film with an added element of depth. As a result, the overall emotional and psychological impact of the film is heightened.

Australian action cinema* has always concerned itself with depictions of the masculine male. Masculinity is crucial to these particular types of films, and the representation of it is largely enhanced by the male’s assimilation into the wilderness of the Australian backlands. In most Australian action films, there is usually an ongoing tension separating the elements of wilderness and civilization. Men are typically associated with the wilderness while women are usually affiliated with civilization.

In ‘Dead Calm’, the wilderness of the outback is substituted with the limitless boundaries of the sea. In regards to civilization, it remains a foreign, unwelcomed entity as a result of the lawlessness typically associated with the unpredictable nature of water. For the first forty five minutes of the film, typical gender roles are reinforced. John, who is skeptical of Hughie’s story, decides to take on the role of active, participating male and search the other boat himself (leaving Rae alone). While on the other hand, Rae is defined as an inactive contributor. She is still greatly traumatized by her child’s death, and thus acts as caregiver who provides Hughie with drinking water when he arrives on board. When John visits the ship, he understands that the people on Hughie’s boat have not died as a result of food poisoning but rather have been murdered. In a desperate attempt to save Rae, John attempts to return to her on the boat. However, it is too late. Hughie realizes that John knows the truth and attempts to take control of the ship. Rae tries to fight Hughie off but he is too strong for her, and she is knocked unconscious. Hughie turns the boat around and leaves John behind.

It is at this time that the typical gender roles are forced to reverse. Rae must now learn to become an active participant if she is to have any chance of saving her husband. John, on the other hand, has now become an inactive member in the progression of the main storyline because of his isolation from the action. So, as a result of this key plot point, Rae’s character begins to change. She begins to grow stronger and more confident in her abilities. She learns how to load the gun, take control of the boat and defeat Hughie. In the beginning of the film, she was defined as a frail, weakened woman (unable to cope with the loss of her son), but now she has assimilated herself into the role of courageous leader (she is propelling the narrative forward). Rae has absconded with the character typically associated with the male protagonist (her name in itself is highly representative of the masculine traits associated with this individual). Her transition as a character is clearly indicated through Nicole Kidman’s excellent, strong-willed performance.

In perhaps the most telling scene, Rae is able to find and save John from imminent death. In fact, when she does discover and rescue John, she utters the words, “I found you”. Yes, it was her who found him. This woman has conquered the harsh landscape and saved the day. She has successfully subverted all of the masculine ideals Australian action cinema has typically been associated with**.

However, during the making of this film, many studio executives felt that audience members may be confused as to the ambiguous ending of Hughie***. Did he die? Where was he if he did not perish? The studio did not want these questions to linger as debate, so they forced a Hollywood-style ending on the film. Thus, Hughie is not killed by Rae. He returns and proceeds to attack her. She is defenseless and it now becomes John’s job to save her. In one telling instant, everything this film has worked for (the subversion of masculinity) is discarded and the normal gender roles (typical of film) are reinforced. It once again becomes a male versus male battle with the female incapable of action.

In the end, however, this film still remains a wonderful thriller. It is beautifully shot and the acting embraces an unforced naturalness to it. In basic terms, the film is a true classic that leaves one with an undeniable mark afterwards. ‘Dead Calm’ stays with you.

^^Of note, there are many instances where Hughie is associated with the colors of the red, white and blue. To say this Australian film is connoting many negative accusations about America is a monumental understatement.

^^In Tom O’Regan’s book, Australian National Cinema, he provides an idea as to why America is regularly identified as the personification of evil in many foreign film nations (and, on occasions, in American films, as well): “Part of Hollywood’s very popularity turns on its capacity to show American evil through hyperbolic representations of its own social, cultural and political dysfunctionality. And this is a temptation to any national cinema to itself produce American villains as Phil Noyce did in ‘Dead Calm’” (P.283). I’m not sure if this necessarily explains it, but at least it makes a valiant effort at attempting to justify it.

Synopsis:

In 1985, an ambitious young broker, Bud Fox (Charlie Sheen), is lured into the illegal, lucrative world of corporate espionage. His downfall culminates as a result of his addiction to the seductive enticement of power, status and financial wizardry promised to him by Wall Street legend Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas).

Review:

Janwillem Van De Weterling once said that: “greed is a fat demon with a small mouth, and whatever you feed it is never enough”. Greed is good according to Gordon Gekko. It is the template of society. Without greed, there would be no progression, no desire, no nothing.

Michael Douglas’ portrayal of Gordon Gekko is masterly. The slick and calculating financier who uses and abuses the people around him is perhaps one of the most vile and despicable characters in film history. However, for as much as the audience hates him, they can never take their eyes off of him. He controls the gaze through his manipulation and twisting of the emotional core found within the people he is trying to convince. As he notes to Bud Fox, there are no friends in the business world: “If you want a friend, buy a dog”.

Gekko’s name has clearly been inspired by the lizard that feeds off insects less powerful. Scaly and slithery, the gecko is a creature that is quite innocent from a physical perspective, but is driven by a desire to live and survive in the jungles of the land from all adversaries. Gordon Gekko is exactly the same. He is not content with merely surviving in the jungles of the business world, but rather is determined to destroy all of his competition with a vengeance. He is a greedy, self absorbed mongrel but people attach themselves to him as if they were moths to a flame. Bud Fox fits this analogy to a tee, and is definitely burned by it.

The 1980s were a decade in search of an identity. The 1960s and 1970s had been tumultuous years for America, and great change was thus needed in the 80s in order to instill some sort of defined leadership to appease society. When Ronald Reagan entered the White House in 1980, he demanded alterations in hopes of witnessing the revival of The United States of America. He pushed forward the prospect of individual freedom and the idea that the individual could accomplish anything on the strength of himself, rather than through a reliance on government institutions. In connection with this, Reagan also wanted to reinvigorate the United States economy.  Driven by the idea that dreams could be accomplished through capitalistic practices, America became a self-absorbed culture of excess. Greed was good!

Bud Fox is a man driven by these very needs. A broker who frantically must sell himself to clients all day long finally begins to become disillusioned with his current status. At one point, he notes that he wonders when he will be on the other end of the line. Instead of selling, he wants to be buying. His desire is to be like Gordon Gekko. He is passionate and determined and after 40 days of constant harassment, Gekko finally agrees to see Fox. But he is in over his head from the get go. When he enters Gekko’s luxurious office (which is ten times the size of his apartment on the upper west side ofNew York), he stares in amazed wonderment. Gekko is such an imposing figure that he intimidates the young Fox. Being slightly coy with him, he demands that Bud tell him something worthwhile. He is playing and toying with him the entire time (just setting him up for the kill). That is until Fox surprises him with a tip. Gekko no longer feels the need to kill him off (figuratively) and cast him back out in the harsh world of bureaucratic business. Gekko understands that he can now use him and mold him into someone who can help him become even richer.

Fox is so enamored by the chance to alter his present situation of financial strain that he quickly becomes enveloped into the lecherous world of Gekko.  Immediately, Fox begins to change both externally and internally. His suits become darker, his hair becomes slicker rather then frazzled, his ideals begin to change and arrogance begins to manifest itself from within (which has never been transparent before). In one instance, his desire to become someone has corrupted his ideals, and thus transforms him into the man Gekko wants him to be.

Oliver Stone provides an interesting sub-story at this point of the film. Fox’s father, Carl (Martin Sheen), is an honorable working class man who fixes airplanes. He is a morally centered man. He dreams that his son will make something of his life and desires the best for him. He truly cares for his son whereas Gekko merely uses him. In a sense, Carl Fox and Gordon Gekko are vying for the soul of Bud. He must choose between the ideals emphasized by the character traits of these two men. Bud’s desire has always been to become successful and rich, and he is easily manipulated by the temptation of what Gekko has to offer him. Gekko not only blackens the soul of Bud, but he also becomes a new father figure to him by lavishing gifts and women on him (which Carl never had the ability to do). Bud turns his back on his father because success has tainted him. Money has become his life; his new family (quite reminiscent of an important Biblical story involving God, Jesus, and the temptations by The Devil).

‘Wall Street’ is not a perfect film in any way. In fact, it is not one of Oliver Stone’s masterpieces. But it does capture a time period with magnificent clarity as a result of Stone’s ability to capture greed at its finest. With this being said, there are some elements that detract from the overall impact of the film. For instance, Darryl Hannah’s performance is forgettable, Sean Young’s turn as Gekko’s wife is small and unmentionable (she is barely in the film, although I assume that this is the point-the business world and personal world do not mix, and Gekko has clearly chosen the professional world as his family), the music is typical cheesy 80’s fare, and the self- reflecting dialogue by Fox is sometimes forced and illogical.

Though the story follows a familiar trajectory with rise, fall and redemption elements, there is still something truly intoxicating about the film. As we journey with Fox, we realize what he is becoming. He is no longer in control of his destiny. He has sold his soul to the devil in order to embrace superficial happiness. It is a morality tale that can speak to the likes of everyone. How much is too much? Is financial success the true meaning of happiness? Gekko is happy but he never truly lives in this film. He lives for the money and power but for nothing else. Is this the symbol of what life should be? Only you, the individual, can decide for yourself.