Miami Vice: Michael Mann's Misunderstood Masterpiece

This review was inspired by J.D. who is hosting the Michael Mann blog-a-thon over at his blog, the always brilliant and fun to read Radiator Heaven. It's going on all week, so head on over and take a look at all of the great entries as we head into the release of Mann's newest film Public Enemies.


There’s nothing more cliché than an action film about two cops who go undercover and infiltrate a drug cartel; and while undercover, one of the cops will no doubt get in too deep while the other cop can only question his partners commitment to the case. Such clichés are evident in almost all of Michael Mann’s films; however, he always sidesteps the banal inevitability of said clichés by taking a fresh look at the men who lead such lives through an introspective and microscopic lens. 2006 brought Miami Vice, a film popping with beautifully filmed colors, meticulously framed skylines, and, most importantly, the type of scrupulous itemization Mann loves to perform with his crimes films (just watch the way his characters create sing-songy dialogue with insider jargon). For Mann, it isn’t so much about the action, but about the “why” that these people are driven by and how they function in the world they live in. A lot of people find Mann’s brand of “action” films boring – too much exposition and long, lingering takes on unnecessary long shots – with not enough shoot ‘em up; I find them misunderstood, refreshing takes on tired genre tropes, and Miami Vice is one of the most misunderstood of all Mann’s films.


The film’s story seems like something off of the old TV show that the film shares its namesake with; however, that’s the only thing they share as Mann is doggedly determined to make this film a straight crime drama, not the campy TV-to-film adaptations that were all over the multiplexes in the mid-2000’s (Charlie’s Angels, Starsky and Hutch, Dukes of Hazard). I think that’s what fans wanted: a popcorn summer film, and Miami Vice, released in the heart of the summer blockbuster months (much like this years Public Enemies), was anything but what the fans were clamoring for (the film had a strong opening weekend, being the first film to unseat the sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean which has been atop the box office list for a month) wasn’t exactly what the masses were asking for: a talky, heavy-on-drama crime film with a middle 45 minutes that is trying.

The film was, however, a fine look at some of the boring old tropes found in these undercover cop thrillers. Collin Ferrell and Jaime Foxx do a great job of making these characters into fleshed out entities rather than 80’s pop caricatures, and Mann’s camera always finds something easy-on-the-eyes to settle on. Like most of Mann’s films it’s a test of one’s will power whether they can muster up the empathy for such morose, one-line spouting characters. Mann’s male characters are never that interesting when they’re speaking (exception: Al Pacino from Heat, but that’s because Pacino can’t play subtle the way Mann likes it), but what Mann does so well is let his camera linger on their weary eyes or he stays on two-shot just long enough for the audience to get a sense of what the characters are feeling; simply put: his characters are always interesting in the things they do. Think about James Caan’s thief (Thief), or Pacino’s television producer (The Insider), Cruise’s hitman (Collateral), or DeNiro’s criminal who falls in love and breaks his own rule about women mixing with “the job” (Heat) – they’re all interesting because they love what they do and they do it with an unremitting passion (Pacino’s cop from Heat is another example).

Mann’s men are also always conflicted. Often times they let themselves forget what they’re intent is, or they don’t realize how their passion to see something through will hurt those they love; and sometimes they’re so passionate about those they love, they don’t care about their job. That is the case with Foxx’s Rico, the more level-headed cop (Ferrell’s Sonny is more of the “act first” kind of guy) who is troubled by their latest covert operation. His girlfriend Trudy (another cop on the force played by Naomi Harris) is being watched by those they plan to do business with, and even though Rico convinces her that if they trace their names all they’re going to get is their fake histories, she doesn’t seem at ease. And this small scene, with Rico and Trudy talking in a diner, is one of the great moments of Miami Vice. It shows Mann’s interest in talking about the things that these people would talk about. Rico says to Trudy that “even if they find something, they’ll just find more layers of out fabricated lives.”

Mann broaches the idea that these men, who have real relationships, can never lead real lives, therefore ruining all of their very real relationships and hurting the ones they love. Rico and Sonny will never have a normal life – once you’re undercover and creating these fabrications it would seem impossible to be able to emerge “normal” out of a career being someone else – but they try during their brief run to take down a major Colombian drug czar. By the end of the film while Trudy sits in a hospital bed, Rico turns more sour on his vocation, proclaiming that he doesn’t care if Trudy dies for the “cause”, the cause is “bullshit” as Rico says, and even though Sonny tries to ease his mind by countering with “is that what Trudy would say?” Rico shoots him down: “No, that’s what I say.” Things have become all-too-real for Rico, and it has all happened while leading this fabricated life; playing pretend as it were.

Sonny is quite different from Rico – he always seems to be teetering between “knowing what he’s doing” and “getting in too deep”. His relationship with Isabel (Gong Li) is a perfect example of the high wire act these undercover agents play out on a daily basis. What I liked about their relationship is that you’re never quite sure who is playing whom and after a while you being to believe that they really love each other, and, in the ultimate bit of irony and pathos, you realize they would have been happy in another life. And that “other” life is always prevalent in Mann’s film – it’s always the carrot that dangles in front of the protagonist, and it’s one of the subjects Mann likes to explore in great depth, making his films always seem more interesting than the others that tackle the same material.

Like Mann’s previous film Collateral, Miami Vice was primarily shot using the Thompson Viper Filmstream camera which creates amazingly beautiful nightscapes that pop (especially on Blu-Ray) and the scenes’ beauty are captured in a way that film just can’t compare. The rest of the film was shot on 35mm, but it’s the digital moments that make this movie’s aesthetic something to behold. Digital gives you a sense of urgency -- something palpable. It's also just really damn nice to look at. Mann's films always have a sexy swagger about them, and Miami Vice is teeming with style; but, unlike the films of say Tony Scott (whose films also have a visual swagger about them), there's a lot of substance buried beneath a Mann film. He always knows where to frame the camera, and like the aforementioned Collateral and The Insider, he uses snap zooms and shaky-cam to great, emotional effect. This film is always jaw-droppingly beautiful, and even in the soggy middle, still just a joy and a feast for the eyes. There's also two great action scenes towards the end of the film. They're unconventional in their execution because Mann opts to go for the more realistic approach, the action is quick, over in an instant because that's they way it would be with professionals doing the job. There's also a shoot-out at the very end that rivals the one from Heat (in quality not in quantity), it's perfectly blocked and the sound is just fantastic throughout the scene, placing the viewer in the moment. It's really an inspired shoot-out scene, and it's what Mann does best: arty action.

I think Miami Vice is one of Mann’s most misunderstood and underappreciated films. It has a rich aesthetic with beautiful, bright colors that are always interesting to look at, but also serve a purpose in foreshadowing the narrative and speaking for the characters. Much like another American masters, visual poet Terrance Malick, Mann is a master at letting the visuals act as the poetics; he allows them to evoke the themes, emotions, and feelings, an onus that usually falls on the actors, but with Mann’s films he almost always wants his main characters to be enigmas, people who say little and speak with their actions. At the end of Miami Vice before the big bust Rico asks Sonny if he is prepared for what’s going to happen (the bust signifies the end of Sonny’s “playtime” with Isabel) and wonders if his partner’s head is in it. Sonny replies with brutal honesty: “I am most certainly not ready.” A line that means he is indeed going to go through with it all and that his partner can trust him to do the right thing.

Most action films don’t stop for these moments of dialogue, but this little exchange at the end of the film says a lot about the characters and they kinds of films Mann is interested in making. Mann reminds me a lot of French New Wave master Jean-Pierre Melville, another director who loved the crime genre, but rarely was interested in the crime itself. Like Melville, Mann loves to create action scenes that are more about the nuances instead of trumped up action clichés. Mann's films have an uncanny ability to be simultaneously grounded in realism (the action scenes in this film), scenes that are palpable in their intimacy (look at the scenes quieter scenes between Sonny and Isabel, especially their "courting" process and specifically their scenes in Havana), but are also poetically striking; ethereal moments that leave you in awe of their visual splendor all while watching something that seems so capital r Real.

Miami Vice may have just been released at the wrong time of the year. Mass audiences wanted something more along the lines of Lethal Weapon or Bad Boys mixed with the campy, faux-serious nature of the original television show. They wanted to see the neon blazers, 80’s hair, and flamingos; but instead, Mann delivers one of his best films, and had the film been entitled something different, the populace might agree. It’s not as taut or interesting as The Insider, or as crisp and exhilarating as Collateral, but it certainly ranks as one of his deepest, and most existential looks into the subject he loves to delve into, and it stands as my favorite crime film Mann has made (yes, better than Heat).