In Defense of Miami Vice

Head on over to Wonders in the Dark where they've been kind of enough to let me ramble on about why I think Miami Vice is one of the best film's of the decade (in their recent poll on the subject I placed it number two). Here's a sample:

There’s nothing more cliché than an action film about two cops who go undercover and infiltrate a drug cartel; and that, while undercover, one of the cops will no doubt get in too deep while the other cop can only question his partner’s 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 display for his audiences (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 duty, the inner turmoil (which is always aided by beautifully shot and framed visual correlatives); they’re about why these people are driven by what they’re driven by, and how they function in the world they live in. A lot of people find Mann’s brand of “action” film boring – too much ethereal wandering that result in long, lingering takes on unnecessary close-ups or establishing shots – with not enough shoot ‘em up; I find them misunderstood, refreshing takes on tired genre tropes; existential tone poems of the crime genre that are narratively akin to the French master Jean-Pierre Melville in how the filmmaker is more concerned with the inner dilemma than the external action. If Mann’s crime films are narratively akin to Melville then surely they are visually akin to his American contemporary visual poet Terence Malick in how the film has an ease about its tone; it’s almost as if it wafts from scene to scene as if in a dream.   Miami Vice is a masterpiece of the crime genre that isn’t just the most misunderstood film of Mann’s oeuvre, but also the most misunderstood masterpiece of the last decade.

Read the rest of the entry with comments at Wonders in the Dark

 

Revisiting 1999: The Top Ten Films of the Year, #5 --- The Insider (Michael Mann)

When I began thinking about this project last Spring I remember thinking that whenever (and if) I get to the top five films of 1999 I will have a tough time figuring out which films are “better” than the others.  When thinking about this hierarchical dilemma I began to realize that I would have to type out some kind of caveat with this list. Here is the first of five entries that will account for what I think are the five best films of 1999, a year that I have been talking about on this blog for a while now.  It doesn’t matter what number sits next to these films, they’re all interchangeable at this point, but what is important is that these are five of the best films of the 90’s.  Here’s where I’ve covered so far in case you've forgotten:

The Top 10 Films of 1999:

Intro: Introduction: The Best Films of 1999

10 - The Limey (Steven Soderbergh)

9 - Affliction (Paul Schrader)

8- American Movie (Chris Smith)
7- Rosetta (The Dardenne Brothers)

6- Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze)

On paper Michael Mann’s The Insider doesn’t sound like a Mann film.  In fact, on paper it sounds like another ho-hum docudrama about an ethical everyman who fights the big bad corporation.  However, The Insider – like Oliver Stone’s JFK and Robert Redford’s Quiz Show – is as taut as any thriller released in the 90’s.  It’s a masterful procedural, and Mann and his screenwriter Eric Roth create tension and elicit edge-of-your-seat type scenes out of people talking, reading and investigating, and the fear of what could happen to someone.  It’s one of Mann’s most unique films (there are no Mann character types in the film Actually there are, just not in the sense that they're professional criminals or gangsters.  Thanks to J.D. for pointing this out to me in the comment section) because on the surface it just seems so normal with its big star (Al Pacino) and Oscar premise (it was nominated for Best Picture, Director, Actor, and others, and remains one of the most criminally snubbed films in recent Oscar history).  The Insider is also one of Mann’s best films.  It shows a director who is a master visual storyteller; a director who is able to make 150+ minutes feel like 90; a director who creates one of the most intriguing “based on a true story” type investigative film since All the President’s Men.

Immediately Mann lets us know what he plans on doing throughout the film as his main protagonist Lowell Bergmann (Al Pacino) sits in the backseat of a car blindfolded.  Like Bergmann, the viewer is at a loss from the onset…this is certainly an odd way to open a film.  This is what Mann wants, though, an opening that is essentially telling us that for the rest of the film we’re going to feel lost, as if we’re the ones blindfolded.   It’s an interesting effect and upon re-watching the film made me think of the purposeful confusion of the 2006 geopolitical thriller, Syriana. 

The story of Bergmann, a “60 Minutes” producer, and whistleblower Jeffrey Wigand (Russell Crowe), a laid-off employee of one of the biggest tobacco companies, trying to take down the tobacco industry seems pretty banal; however, Mann and Roth punch up the story by showing us the inner workings of Bergmann’s TV producer and what it takes to produce a weekly magazine news show the caliber of “60 Minutes”.  Mann’s style, as usual, trumps the writing as he paints his film in blue’s and green’s to great effect showing us the icy world of television.  On the flip side you have Crowe’s Wigand who is trying his hardest to keep his family together after his firing from a tobacco company for making his voice heard in a situation where he was expected to stay quiet and toe the company line.  Once he receives threats, presumably from the tobacco company he used to work for, he feels compelled to meet with Bergmann and tell his side of the story. 

Ah, but this isn’t some “holier-than-thou” type of docudrama.  Mann is too good for that, and throughout the film we see Bergmann and Wigand form a relationship, a friendship of sorts, yet it because clearer and clearer as the film progresses that Bergmann is just working this guy to get his story.  Wigand immediately takes a liking to the fast talking Bergmann, who understands that Wigand has a story to tell, an important story he needs to tell the world.  This recklessness and singular focus on doing the “60 Minutes” interview drives a wedge between Wigand and his family and pulls Wigand into a personal hell – a harsh reward for telling the truth.  When his wife divorces him he first resorts to a hotel, specifically the room where he and Bergmann met for their first interview, and it is here that Mann creates the best moment of the film and one of the best visual moments he’s ever conjured up.

In this scene Wigand is watching TV and realizes that his original interview segment with Mike Wallace (the great Christopher Plummer in an outstanding performance) did not air.  In lieu of the segment was a butchered version with Wallace explaining why they couldn’t show what they originally filmed for air, essentially blaming it on Wigand because of his personal life, which of course had been called into question thanks to Big Tobacco’s lawyers doing some typical mud slinging and character assassination.  Bergmann fought for him and for the original segment, but was outranked by CBS higher-ups who were getting big time pressure from the lawyers about airing such a volatile story.  According to Bergmann, his producer and Wallace too easily succumbed to CBS corporate, and instead of fighting for journalistic integrity, they opted to take the safe, sponsor-friendly route.  Back to the scene: Wigand is sitting in his chair in the hotel room while Bergmann tries to reach him on the phone.  As Bergmann relays a message for Wigand to the hotel manager who is outside of the locked hotel room, Mann decides to drown out the voices in the scene and crank the music.  As this happens we simply look at Wigand and we think along with him about all that has happened to him throughout this process, all he has sacrificed.  As we watch Wigand’s face (in a great bit of acting by Russell Crowe) the walls start to shift as Wigand looks their way.  Soon the room morphs into a backyard where his kids are playing and his oldest daughter waves at him.  It’s an emotionally shattering scene between contemplating what this man has gone through, the visual effect, and the music that Mann employs.  It’s a brilliant scene filled with all kinds of gusto in otherwise subdued picture. 

The original story did eventually air on “60 Minutes”, but by that time it was almost an afterthought.  What’s interesting about the film is the way that Bergmann comes off smelling like roses, the man of integrity who didn’t bow to corporate pressure; all the while Wallace and some of the “60 Minutes” producers come off looking weak, pawns that are easily manipulated by CBS corporate.  Wigand just kind of goes on with his life, coming to terms with the fact that even though his interview wasn’t the big deal he was hoping it to be, at least he can take comfort in knowing that he was the catalyst that set things in motion in regards to Big Tobacco becoming more scrutinized. 

The film did have a rocky production as there were many people who would have liked for this film to have never been made.  Bergmann, a friend of Mann’s, worked closely on the project and it is said that he made himself out to be the hero of the film.  This doesn’t surprise me as with any docudrama you’re almost certainly getting a redacted version.  Wallace was one the bigger names most displeased with the film because of how much of a megalomaniac it made him out to be.  In the film he is portrayed vocalizing his displeasure with the edited version because they edited "the guts" of what he had to say as opposed them editing the guts out of the entire segment; apparently Wallace was just as vocal about his displeasure of the editing of the interview as Bergmann was.  


Watching the film I think it becomes pretty obvious that it’s hard to believe Bergmann could have orchestrated everything he does in the film (setting up court hearings, leaking stories to the Wall Street Journal, fighting off network executives, etc.), but that’s what makes these films so intriguing: one guy against the world out to reveal a truth that some people don’t want told.

There's a crucial moment in the film when Wigand and Bergmann are eating dinner at a Japanese restraunt where Wigand states: "I'm just a commodity to you aren't I.  It could be anything...anything to put on between commercials."  Bergmann replies with a line that makes Wigand feel comfortable confiding in him and to "60 Minutes" when he says, "to a network maybe, but to me you're so much more important."  I believe that Bergmann honestly felt this way, and to that extent he is the hero of the story, but I have my doubts that he was the singular reason why everything fell into place.


Does this make the film any less effective?  Not at all.   You come to expect these things from films of this ilk.  I think what is portrayed in a more glorified manner is what's at the heart of investigative journalism: idealism.  And the Bergmann of Mann's film is the prototypical symbol for the idealist, and in a dramatic film there's nothing wrong with taking some liberties in order to get that point across...it's not as if the Bergmann-friendly version of this story lessens its overall power, or makes it any less effective of a film. 

The acting is top notch across the board.  Crowe, relatively new here and fresh off his performance from 1997’s L.A. Confidential, is just fantastic as the on-edge Wigand.  It’s the most internalized piece of acting that Crowe has ever done, and he does such a great job of always looking someone who won’t let the pressures that are causing the world around him to crumble get to him.  It’s a shame that Crowe, who was nominated for Best Actor, was rewarded for his worst performance (Gladiator) a year after this, his best performance.  I think it’s safe to say that this was probably the last time Pacino was ever any good.  He’s not doing anything out of the ordinary here, but it’s just one of those classic Pacino performances before that became something you rolled your eyes at.  Christopher Plummer, who was nominated for Best Supporting Actor, is great as the assured Wallace.  There’s a great scene where he tells off a network executive without fear of reprisal, and it’s a scary rendition of what is probably a normal occurrence with these television patriarchs.  

I’d also like to mention the great character actor Bruce McGill who has a bit role as a prosecutor who is trying to help Bergmann in getting Wigand’s story recorded by a court so that he won’t perjure himself by going on TV with the information he has.  McGill has a film-stealing moment in a courtroom where he tells off a smug Big Tobacco attorney.  He’s an underappreciated actor and really one of the best character actors working today.

I mentioned the look of the film earlier and how Mann and his cinematographer, the great Dante Spinotti, paint the film in blues and greens.  What's also interesting about the look of the film is how Mann is more mobile with his camera in this picture, evoking that documentary feel he's aiming for.  This is especially more noticeable when held up to his two previous films, Heat and The Last of the Mohicans.  Both films were more sweeping and epic like in their photography, so it was bit jarring at first (and highly effective) when Mann introduces Wigand by shooting the scenes with his family in hand-held (there's an especially nice use of it in a scene where Wigand's daughter has an asthma attack...it's probably the most intense asthma attack I've seen in a movie).  The Insider also seems to mark the first film where Mann flirted with the use of lighter, more mobile digital cameras, an aesthetic he has mastered with his recent onslaught of films.

As I mentioned earlier Mann’s film reminds me a lot of the intriguing and surprisingly intense procedural films like JFK or Quiz Show – films that are essentially people interviewing other people and talking about what they’ve read and investigated – but Mann’s film is so much more than those other pictures.  I actually think it’s more akin to the brilliant David Fincher thriller Zodiac, another procedural film that had a lot of unanswered questions in it.  In both films you have protagonists who are continually stunted in their efforts to get results from the evidence they have amassed throughout their arduous investigative journeys.  You have a lot of scenes of people investigating, and it’s amazing that both films are able to pull you into their worlds and make you just as aggravated by the roadblocks, or just as intrigued by the next possible breakthrough, when really there aren’t any kind of conventional thriller tropes being employed by either filmmaker.


The Insider fits with Mann's other films only in the sense that we have two male characters that Mann is fascintated by; fascinated by what makes them tick and how and why they come to the decision to do what they do.  We're never quite sure about Bergmann's history (he immediatly deflects Wigand's attempt at idle chit-chat about their fathers) or why Wigand feels so compelled to lose everything he loves in life in order to tell his story.  And that stays consistant with Mann's recent approaches to narrative: intimately filming the subjects with handheld cameras, yet keeping you emotionally at arms length.  This is what I love about all of Mann's films, there is nothing explicitly telling us (whether through lame dialogue or cheesy plot tactics) what motivates his characters.  He allows us to look at their faces and contemplate and come to a decision ourselves.  The Insider is all about the nuances, the way that Mann uses music to tell part of the narrative, the icy color palette he employs, the way he is able to speak through visuals that make you feel like you're a part of the investigation, and the way he creates tension out of nothing (seriously...I was riveted by a conversation via fax machine in this movie).  The Insider is in the upper echelon of the auteur's oeuvre, and remains one of the best films of the 90's.


Extra Stills:

Public Enemies: Take One

I plan on seeing this again (hence the "take one" in the title), but for the moment here are my ramblings on the film after I saw it this afternoon.

Michael Mann can film a face like no one else. He loves to linger on faces, letting the audience figure out what’s going on behind those cold eyes of his characters. And it’s not just that Mann likes faces, it’s that he loves lingering there with his in-the-moment digital photography and intense music pumping in the background – here is an auteur who is interested in the un-action of action movies. Perhaps no other recent filmmaker has been able to dupe audiences more frequently than Mann has with his last three films: 2004’s Collateral about a hitman, 2006’s reboot of the kitch-tastic 80’s hit Miami Vice, and now in 2009 with Public Enemies – a gangster film about the last year of John Dillinger’s life. All three of these films (and to an extent all of Mann’s pictures) share the same trait of on the surface seeming like a commercial action film created to rake in the Summer dollars; whether it’s with big stars (Tom Cruise, Jaime Foxx, Johnny Depp) or sure-fire plots that sound exciting and seem to guarantee action (movie about a hitman, buddy cop movie, gangster film), but what’s buried beneath these seemingly simple plots is something that is always more interesting than the bang-bang, shoot ‘em up films they sound like. Mann is interested in the action that drives his subjects, here is it John Dillinger, but it could be anyone; Mann, like the French master Jean-Pierre Melville, loves to look deeply into his characters who commit crimes because that’s more interesting than the crimes themselves.

I can imagine this film taking in the same opening box office that Miami Vice did on it’s opening weekend…then audiences figure out that this isn’t a Scarface or Godfather type crime film and run away to the comforts of mind-numbing summer fair like Transformers. So be it. They don’t know what they’re missing. Public Enemies fits Mann’s oeuvre like a glove, and it’s easy to see why he was so drawn to the material. No, not because of the gun battles and the bank robberies (although those do remind us of Mann’s earlier films like Heat and Miami Vice), but because here are a two men, John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) and G-Man Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) who are on opposite sides of the law, but are driven by the same force to excel at what they do, no matter what the cost, and to only think about the present.

Bale’s square jaw is at home under his stern look and fedora, and surprisingly his morose tone works here as Purvis is a man who gets no joy in his job – believe me when I tell you that this man is the antithesis of Al Pacino’s cop in Heat. Depp is just outstanding as John Dillinger, a man who, as he introduces himself to people, “robs banks.” And that’s the Dillinger Mann showcases. There are no flashbacks into his past to try and understand why he does what he does (although in one scene he does mention that his dad beat him because he didn’t know what else to do with him), he is a man possessed, a man who is cold and calculated and can get through a bank in under two minutes…he doesn’t have time for backstory. He is also a man of the people. He understands the need to play to the people as he will no doubt be hiding out among them, and the way Depp handles the moments of celebrity are nice dashes of humor in an otherwise humorless film.

Depp and Mann decide to showcase this Dillinger as a man who is not likeable. Sure, he may have some redeeming qualities about him, but for the most part we don’t like this man, even though we’re spending the better part of two hours with him…up close and personal, too. Just like in the most recent Michael Mann pictures, digital cameras are used to great effect. Here he films Purvis mostly with film, and in a cold, detached manner; but Dillinger is filmed up close with digital – and it’s obvious that it’s digital, maybe the most obvious Mann has ever made it that he prefers this medium – but there we are, as in-the-moment as we can be, but as is the case with any Mann character, we are also kept at a distance from them, left to figure out what makes them tick and why they do what they do.

This isn’t a gangster film like that of Scorsese or Coppola. There are no family gatherings or quirky characters that make you laugh and think “hey they don’t have such a bad life.” These are gangsters who rob for a living, but never seem to enjoy themselves (except for Baby Face Nelson who takes great pleasure in shooting things up). Like most of Mann’s crime films this is a deeply existential one (again reminding me of Melville). Mann loves for the viewer to come up with their own theories on the histories of the characters and why they do what they do. Like I mentioned in my Miami Vice review earlier this week, it’s rare for a filmmaker to have the patience for this kind of thing, and it just cements what the director is more interested in. He may make action movies, but it’s the deep thoughts and pondering of the films main characters (again the shots of those faces) that he’s most interested in. And he when he does do action, he does it better than anyone else, he does arty action, comparable to anything Terrence Malick has made.

It’s funny, after reading a lot of the fine entries from the Michael Mann blog-a-thon hosted by J.D. at Radiator Heaven, I’ve noticed a lot of the same themes swirling around all of Mann’s pictures, and Public Enemies is no different. Here’s a film that seems to be a pastiche of Mann’s most famous work: Thief, Heat, Manhunter, and my personal favorite Miami Vice. The pacing, as is the case with most of Mann’s films, is not for everyone, but the man never films an uninteresting scene, and I love the way the viewer is dropped into scene after scene with very little use of establishing shots so that we may get our bearings. The film is deliberate, but felt like it went by quickly because of this decision by Mann. In addition to all of the usual themes at play, here, there’s also the usual aesthetic goodness that one finds in a Mann picture.

Dante Spinotti re-teams with Mann (he shot his first foray into digital The Insider) and evokes a lot of the classic gangster film feel. He also gives several visual nods to a lot of Mann's other crime films. What’s most amazing about the way the film was shot was that we have never seen a period piece shot with digital before. So, it’s a little jarring at first, but it also feels all the more real, like we’re there watching all of this happen. It’s so much more affective than sepia tone or muted colors. It’s yet another example of one of the many things that has always fascinated me about Mann’s pictures: his ability to make you feel in-the-moment, yet simultaneously keeping you at arms length. The film is beautiful to look at, but that hardly comes as a surprise to anyone who enjoys Mann’s work. I can't wait for the film to be released on DVD so I can take a look at some of the scenes shot by shot.

What else can I say about this film? I feel like I haven’t even really done the film critical justice. I think that’s because I need to let the film settle into my mind for the weekend, think about it some more, and then come back with some better thoughts. I know I’ll see it again (especially since the showing I went to a woman decided to treat the theater like her own living while she dealt with her baby and fielded cell phone calls in the theater.) and when I do I feel like there will be even more to say. As for specific elements of the film besides the usual Mann themes…I loved how Mann showed J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup) trying to implement the Bureau in its early phases of clean-cut men in suites, and the way Purvis challenges Hoover saying he needs men who know what to do in a gun fight. I also like how they show the shift of crime towards the end of Dillinger’s life. Robbing banks isn’t sufficient enough anymore, it’s too risky for the meagerness of the reward; so, instead gangsters turned to bookies and the betting system as a way to steal money, and the scene where Dillinger finds out that his skills aren’t really an asset anymore is one of the best scenes of the movie. Conversely law enforcement was now starting to become dirtier and dirtier where it was okay to rough up witnesses in order to get information (even women weren’t above these harsh interrogation methods). Crime was becoming more organized, almost more civil, while the black and white police ethos was becoming grayer. Needless to say the action scenes were typical top-notch Mann stuff – meticulous and brilliantly executed. I also really enjoyed the Robin Hood style of bank robbing that Dillinger subscribed to. There’s a great scene where he tells one of the bank customers who has put his money on the counter for Dillinger to take to keep his money, and that they’re there for the banks money, not theirs. I thought the way Dillinger endeared himself to the public was one of the most interesting things about the movie, and especially as an anti-hero – a man who was stealing from the rich during a time of great depression.

I know there’s more I want to say, and I am sure this isn’t the last this film will be discussed on the blog. I haven’t even mentioned the dynamic between Depp (whose performance I feel like I haven't said enough about, but he understands Mann's love of actors acting with their face...he hits everything just right in this movie) and Marion Cotillard who plays Billie, Dillinger’s love interest. It’s rare for a woman to be the focus in a Mann film, but like Amy Brenneman’s Eady from Heat, Billie is integral to the story. Public Enemies above everything else is just a great entertainment, and cements Mann as a true poet of the cinema. More thoughts are sure to come, but for now, I feel pretty comfortable calling this one of the best films of the year.

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).