Manhunter is proof that Michael Mann is brilliant in every element that lends to creating a sense of style on the screen. He’s great at visually arresting an audience and effortlessly creates a distinct atmosphere for his films. Take the first shot after the opening credits. Not even the first scene, but just that first shot. FBI profiler Will Graham (William Petersen) & his superior Jack Crawford (Dennis Farina) sit on a log on the beach. The calm waters, clear blue sky and horizon serve as their backdrop. Graham looks to the left – facing the viewer – as he holds a drink. He’s clad in a plain shirt and shorts with his bare feet in the sand. Crawford on the other hand is in full office attire, with his suit draped on the log. He has his back towards us as he looks down at the ground. It’s an intriguing image and lingers a few seconds for the audience to take it in. It’s meticulously composed and very typical of the skill that Michael Mann has in creating a lasting image.
The problem, however, lies in his writing. Mann has a tendency to be heavy-handed, and every example of his poor writing tendencies are on display in this film. He’s the classic example of someone who you’d want to yell at and say, “Show, don’t tell!” The worst offenders of this are the scenes where Graham mutters to himself as he tries to get inside the killer’s head. Mann’s script makes him say out loud every detail, thought and move of the killer as if a play-by-play announcer at a basketball game. The end result is that almost every scene in Manhunter ends up being an exercise of style over substance.
Even then, there are actors in the film talented enough to rise above the material. Joan Allen in one of her first film roles works wonders with her naturally soft easiness to balance out the film’s grotesque look and chilling atmosphere. The highlight though is clearly Brian Cox in the role of Hannibal Lecter. The performance is magnetic in the handful of scenes that he’s in. He brings confidence, charisma and a chilling sense of danger to the role. There’s always the impression that much more is running in his brilliant mind than what’s said and shown on-screen. And a feeling that he knows more about everyone else such that one would wish that the film was about him more than anyone else.
I think I need to rewatch Collateral after I’m done with this Michael Mann marathon. As the only film directed by Mann that he didn’t write, it interests me to revisit what he’s done with another person’s screenplay. I’d imagine that if Michael Mann directed a piece similar to Malick’s The Tree of Life or Caruth’s Upstream Color based off another writer’s work it would be an interesting experience. It would be the perfect vehicle for his unbridled style combined with another writer’s substance.
Two mysterious characters come out in the dead of night. The bright streetlights contrast with the dark in stark noir fashion. Rain falls. Smoke fills a lifeless alley. Two thieves work their magic as a riveting musical score pulsates in the background. This is the opening scene to Thief. It runs for ten minutes yet feels like it just blows by once the pair of robbers drive back to their hideout as the sun rises on downtown Chicago. It exhibits the type of patience, control and meticulous attention to detail that one would think it was put together by a seasoned director. But it’s not.
If there were any opening scene from a feature film debut that one could say typifies the potential of a budding filmmaker, this would be it. In Michael Mann’s first theatrical feature, he exudes the visual and aural pizazz of an auteur far beyond his years. He juggles tones with expert dexterity at the same time filling the screen with a flamboyant style, which is to be his trademark in later years. He nails the gritty and sinister atmosphere of a vintage noir. He enthralls with thrilling and bloody action sequences. And amidst all of this, he compellingly tells the story of a tragic hero determined to follow his plans on his terms.
At the heart of it is James Caan infusing his innate tough-guy bravado into the character of an ex-convict we only know as Frank. He’s a businessman by day, running both a used car shop and a bar to front his criminal operations. But during the night is where the real money is, as he and his partner Barry (James Belushi) carefully map out and execute various diamond scores. The grand plan at the center of all of this being the realization of a perfect, normal life. A life with a wife, a child and a modest home in the suburbs.
It’s at this point where Mann shows a knack for playing with the viewer’s sympathies. When Frank’s fence bites the dust, all hell breaks loose. His plans get thrown off the rails, and try as he might to get them back on track his way, it becomes increasingly apparent that the only way may have to be by force. By the time the film draws to its climax, we find ourselves rooting for the criminal – this stubborn, hardened thief – hoping against hope that he comes out of it alive with his dreams intact.
Thief is precise and detailed. It’s intricately planned and slickly executed. It drills down to the details such as testing the voltage of wires for information and running an extinguisher under a thermal lance while melting away at a safe to make sure nothing catches fire. In fact it’s the perfect metaphor for the movie and that’s where the strength of the film ultimately lies. It’s such an intricately-made piece of work in that every shot, every edit, every scene and line of dialogue seems like it’s all been painstakingly plotted on a map.