Collateral

By James C. Hess

At a recent gathering of writers and like-minded types, heavily lubricated and subsequently influenced by large quantities of alcohol and food, tempered by loud and noisy opinions, many obscene and rude, a curious, but serious and certainly disturbing revelation was brought forth: The Hollywood Machine is dying.

Slowly some days. Faster others. Regardless,it is dying, and the rattle from deep within is heard more and more, signaling what is certain to come: The demise of a once proud and mighty industry.

Of course, such a demise is avoidable. But for this to happen certain changes from within must take place, and sooner, not later.

Unlike many of my fellow scribes I am an optimist, and I believe these changes are already being made.

Consider as proof the latest vehicle for Tom Cruise: "Collateral", a superficially disturbing effort about a professional and a working class joe, and how their lives come together as both lives unravel over one night, that mostly takes inside a cab, as they travel from one destination to another.

"Collateral" opens with Cruise exchanging briefcases with a stranger in an airport. Why? What is this all about? Before the question can be answered, before other questions relating to the situation can be asked the movie turns and seemingly becomes another movie: Now there is a cab driver named Max (Jamie Foxx, in a role that will no doubt get him more dramatic roles, if he so desires them), who picks up a fare named Annie (Jada Pinkett Smith). She is business, professional. She quickly lists the streets he should take to get her to downtown Los Angeles. He responds with a typical cabbie answer: He knows a faster route. There is a long discussion about this and they finally make a bet: The ride will be free if he doesn't get them to downtown faster.

The ride begins and the two of them continue their exchange. Logically such an exchange would be based in sexual dynamics but this dynamic is void of such things. Because it is the action moves quickly and facts are quickly established: She is a federal prosecutor who has a confession to make: She is so nervous the night before a big case she cries and cries. He tries to soothe her by revealing a fact of his own: He wants to own his own limo service. As a result they come to like each other. Then he lets her out of the cab, and realizes he should have asked for her number. She taps on the window and gives him her card.

Why? And what does any of this have to do with Cruise and the briefcase he swapped? 'Why' will be answered soon enough. What any of this has to do with Cruise, with the briefcase, will also be known soon, because this is a thriller.

A thriller. That's right: A thriller. And it is the thriller, I suggest, that may prove to be the saving grace of the Hollywood Machine. Of course, the fact it has as its lead Tom Cruise is a bonus.

Speaking of Cruise, let's go back to the cab seen previously: No sooner has Annie exited it and Cruise becomes the next customer. Cruise plays a character named Vincent, who superficially seems all right: He comes across as nice, polite, confident. As he enters the cab he informs Max he needs a driver to spend the night with him as he goes from one destination to another, for a total of five. Max is willing to do so and the incentive of six, crisp one hundred dollars bills does little to change his mind.

The first stop for this journey is an apartment building, that lacks parking in front. Vincent instructs Max to wait for him in the alley. Max is pragmatic, so he agrees as requested. As Max waits a body lands on the top of the cab. Max is understandably shocked. And then outraged when he figures out Vincent was responsible.

You threw him out the window and killed him, he demands of Vincent.

No, Vincent replies calmly, coldly. The bullets killed him. Then he went out the window.

Now we know more about Vincent and now we know more about Max. Perhaps things we do not want to know: Given the horror he just saw it seems Max would cut and run, but he stays.

Superficially "Collateral" is a thriller about a cold-blooded killer. It is the sort of fare that condemns the Hollywood Machine to its certain demise. That is, it would, but for Cruise and the fact this film is brilliant, owing to how the narrative is constructed and subsequently presented: A long conversation between a professional killer and man who fears for his life. But these elements, too, are superficial: As the night passes, as the killings are committed, we are allowed glimpes into given lives, and it is by way of these glimpses we come to know and understand people we may know or may not want to know.

Director Michael Mann has successfully worked in this particular genre before: "Heat". He made mistakes with that film, but has learned well from them, and achieves success here that is unmatched. It is success that can go to assure the survival and long-term existence of the Hollywood Machine.

But therein is a problem of sorts: Is Mann merely telling a story or is he intending to achieve something else? Morality by way of immorality? As I watched "Collateral", transfixed by the horror presented with each stop, emphasized with dialogue and punctuated with detailed characterizations, I came to realize that Mann was not just telling a story. He was, in fact, preaching: Through acting by Cruise and Foxx that we are not what we seem: That we have secrets, secrets and hidden aspects of our persons that embody what we really are. Cruise, for example, is not a killer; that is just his job. Foxx, for example, is not really a cab driver, he is a businessman.

I don't mind message films. What I do mind is attempts by actors, screenwriters, and directors to suggest they are doing otherwise when they are not. Simply: I have a low tolerance for liars of this stripe.

But personal prejudices aside my only true complaint of this film is the ending: Director Mann suffers from the what-do-I-do-now syndrome so many film- and movie-makers suffer, and instead of trying to overcome it he gives in to it, and offers a weak chase as conclusion.

About the Author:

James C. Hess graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he earned a Bachelor's Degree in English Literature, with an emphasis on Editorial Journalism and Film Studies.

Hess currently makes his home along the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies.

Article courtesy of http://www.suite101.com.