The sequence in the middle of “Heat” by Michael Mann captures the essence of the movie. Following the segment, Al Pacino portrays a police detective named Hanna who has been pursuing Robert De Niro’s character, a sophisticated thief by the last name of McCulley, for weeks. The cunning McCulley appears to be one step ahead of his pursuers at every turn. One evening, Hanna flashes his badge while he is tailing McCulley, stops his vehicle, and begins to question him.
McCulley waits in his car while adjusting the firearm he has in his possession. “What do you say I buy you a cup of coffee?” is a question he is asked when Hanna arrives his location. In disbelief, he responds with, “That sounds like a good idea.”
The scene that follows unfolds to show both men in a diner sitting at a formica table. This marks a brief respite in their busy routines. With their coffee in hand, they observe one another and silently acknowledge that while each is a reminder of the other’s struggles, they have formed a bond that transcends coffee.
Skilled and gifted, McCauley is a thief of professionals. When Hanna gently hints at the contrary, he retorts, “You see me doing thrill-seeker liquor store holdups with a ‘Born to Lose’ tattoo on my chest?” The cop replies without hesitation, “No, I don’t.” The interaction stops there. Cop says, “I don't know how to do anything else.” Thief: “Neither do I.” The scene condenses the meaning of "Heat" - that these cops and robbers need each other: They are in the same world – cut off from the rest of society, living by their own set of rules.
That may be the relationship in about half the cases, but that is not to say they do not have a deeper emotional bond, possibly a more profound bond than with the other side of the fence who ought to be their companions, their wives, for instance.
The film also touches on the issue concerning women. In “Heat," two of the key players, Hanna (Kirk) and McCauley, have wives, with the latter developing a case of love (in direct violation of policy). Harrison is in the latter stages of his third marriage to a woman named Justice (Diane Venora) who is angry, stating that, “You live among the remains of dead people,” because of his obsession with work. McCauley’s crime associates also include a thief, Shiherlis (Val Kilmer), whose wife, Charlene, is played by Ashley Judd.
His personal rule dictates that he never involve himself in anything that cannot be shed in 30 seconds flat. He gets into a conversation with Eady (Amy Brenneman) in a restaurant, and she starts asking a barrage of very specific questions. “Lady,” he says to her, “why are you so interested in what I do?” She is not trapped in a relationship. “I am alone,” he replies to his claim. “I am not lonely.” Indeed, he is the most lonely man alive but finds, to his utter surprise, that he requires her attention.
As with all action American movies, there is an ongoing internal struggle between the man’s work and woman’s principle, the latter whom wants to herd him into domestication. Mann has insight into the addiction of the lives his men lead in his movie. There is a scene where the thieves have practically everything if they choose to retire. McCauley even has a place chosen in New Zealand. All the action comes with a new job, “it’s the juice; it’s the action." The movie cuts from the self-reflective scenes to bravura sequences comprised of heists and shoot-outs, beginning with a complex armored car robbery that uses towed semis as well as tow trucks, and followed by an intricately planned bank heist.
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The police have eyes on McCauley and his crew day and night, and one day track them to a remote warehouse. McCauley appears to leading his subordinates, whom he is directing in the middle of a great expanse of warehouse land. Later, the cops stand in the same place, trying to figure out what plan the thieves could possibly have had in mind. There are no visible landmarks that can be considered a target. Suddenly Hanna gets it: “Do you realize what they’re staring at? It’s us, the LAPD. We just got made.” And he is right. McCauley has driven out his tail and is now on a roof, staring at them through his lens.
De Niro and Pacino have become emblematic of the genre: McCauley and Dent are portrayed as frenzied, passive aggressors. It’s not difficult to assume that the actors have spent more hours behind the camera pretending to be policemen and thieves than actual policemen and thieves have spent on their respective careers. It is common for a discussion to come up regarding the time an actor literally turns into a human version of whichever character his film listes him to be. If Pacino and De Niro fret over whether their stepping outs will leave them with heads ready to spin, they will likely find themselves tailing a studied character – precisely crafted around their portrayals in yesteryear's crime movies. Everything here works like a precision instrument.
What stands out is how Mann tries to test these roles with the women. In this film, the wives and girlfriends seem to always be positioned as if they are standing at the kitchen door, inviting and coaxing the boys to come in from their play. The hot tempered wife of Pacino, played by Venora, is the most unforgiving of them all: She is literally married to a guy who brings corpses into bed with him, in his dreams of course. Her daughter, rebellious and screwed up, is receiving zero fathering from him. Their marriage is a joke, and when he catches her with another man, she accurately says, `` He forced me to demean myself. “
The other women, portrayed by Judd and Brenneman, are not quite so clear-sighted. They still have some delusions, although Brenneman, who plays a graphic artist, stalls as any modern woman would when this strange, secretive man expects her to leave her drawing boards and her computer only for him to whisk her off to the mystery that is New Zealand.
This is not merely an action film. Most importantly, the dialogue gives the characters the freedom to articulate their thoughts: They are lucid, keen, whimsical, and even lyrical when they need to be. None of them are bound by clichés. Out of many possible imprisonments in our world, perhaps one of the worst is to be inarticulate, that is, unable to express oneself clearly and adequately to another human being. These characters have that capability. Not that it helps them.