Mann does not pass judgment on these two paradigms but knows many men envaluate themselves and others solely by their occupations and financial success. Max the cabbie is caught between being good at what he does and always having to claim that it’s not really his job. He is the cleanest, most efficient taxi driver Vincent has ever seen, yet in a schizophrenic, paralyzing twist he is forbidden by the code of masculinity to take pride in being good at what he himself considers a menial existence. Vincent is forever defending his amorality—killing for pay without the slightest inkling of who his targets or employers are—with the flimsy statements “it’s my job” and “I do this for a living.” His mantra is a sarcastic mishmash of words and phrases like “adapt,” “roll with it,” “improvise,” “Darwin and I Ching.”
In addition to the battle of wills there are several scenes of brief, intense, and frighteningly efficient violence. Cruise turns gunplay into a dance competition in which the winner is the man who needs the fewest steps. Watch the terrifying quickness with which he dispatches two muggers. Watch Vincent only get angry when he needs the extra adrenaline. “Collateral’s” kinetic highpoint is a bloody encounter in a crowded nightclub. More dancing. Mann is known for his direction of acting as well as action, and besides his leads he gets good, self-effacing supporting performances from Jada Pinkett Smith (“The Matrix Reloaded”), Mark Ruffalo (“You Can Count on Me”), tough character actor Bruce McGill (“Matchstick Men”), Barry Shabaka Henley (“Ali”), Irma P. Hall (“The Ladykillers”), and Javier Bardem (“The Dancer Upstairs,” another great actor in his land cast as a drug dealer in ours).
“Collateral” is also divided along racial lines. Not only is Cruise one of the few white characters Foxx meets, but he is blazingly white: light grey hair, light grey suit, white shirt. This is not just a tactical artistic decision made by Mann so that the demon always jumps out of the crowd. Vincent is at total ease when it comes to bossing around minorities, and he uses an elevated, even condescending diction. He is like an avenging angel sent by the establishment to rub out upstart minorities (only one of his five victims is white). The oppressor has come down from the ivory tower, with all its training and resources, to keep the Morlocks in their place, if you’ll allow me to mix my metaphors. Even “Collateral’s” cops, who are normally white in these kinds of gritty films, are seen in a murky light, and we can’t quite tell if they’re really Latino, or part Latino; Mark Ruffalo’s slicked-haired Detective Fanning pronounces “Ramon” with a perfect Spanish lilt.
After “Ali,” “Collateral” could be seen as Mann’s retreat into the safer, more familiar territory of guns and gangsters, where he made his first splash. Perhaps, but it is another step closer to what I suspect is his dream movie. It certainly reasserts his position as the premiere cinematic painter of cityscapes.
P.S. The actor who intentionally switches suitcases with Tom Cruise in the airport is Jason Statham, who played a virtually identical character in the film “The Transporter.” Klea Scott, who is credited only as “Fed #1,” also played a federal agent in the Lance Henriksen/Chris Carter TV series “Millennium.” This isn’t as satisfying as spotting a pack of Morley cigarettes in “Thirteen,” but it’ll do.
Finished September 6th, 2004
Copyright © 2004 Friday & Saturday Night
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