“Thief” Review: Mann’s Masterful Directorial Debut

Micheal Mann helps establish a Neo-Noir canon as early as his impressive directorial debut.

Since it’s debut, there have been infinite reiterations of the very premise Thief itself attempts and succeeds at evolving past the generic lows of a cliched heist film. An impressive directorial debut from Michael Mann, Thief may have the seedy streets lit by poisonous fluorescents, the overtly 80s synth-y score, and the protagonist performing “one last job” that now dots every Neo-Noir, but it is by no means a hackneyed experience. While Thief satisfyingly employs the surface level aesthetics of crime to delight any viewer looking to vicariously live on the other side of the law, Mann provides an attention to detail and level of confidence in his filmmaking that makes this picture stand out as something greater than its contemporaries. While at times the film can seem a bit self-serious with its dated components, these elements come off more as delightfully hokey in an film that typically operates in the grit of an underworld brought to the surface, while at the same time heightening the more dramatic effects and nuanced tricks Mann uses to create a truly impressive debut. In a sense, Mann stole my attention from minute one, and he had no intention on giving it back.

What is immediately apparent about Thief is its undeniable style. Opening on a wide of tough-guy Frank entering a mysterious car in a parking lot resembling a black hole, the neon lights make themselves immediately apparent on the constantly soaked streets. The camera pans down, vertically capturing the dizzying and kafkaeseque urban sprawl that hides not just Frank’s robbery in progress, but the rest of the evil-doers operating in the shadows of what could be L.A., the town with no name, or hell itself. The opening sequence’s confident silence as Frank and gang pull off another heist invites comparisons to Drive, which is but one of many ways Thief’s style has entered and maintained a prominent stance in the cultural zeitgeist that has helped form our culture’s conceptualization of the modern crime film. Mann consistently employs telephoto lenses to flatten the city space and create a voyeristic atmosphere; it’s as if the audience member takes the same position as the lowly police officers that track and beat Frank later in the film not for his wrong doings, but for not letting them in on a piece of the action. Seediness infests the hearts of every citizen, which is visually reflected in the way Mann captures the urban setting. Shooting through destroyed cars, between shattered windows, or wading through a bellow of soot and smoke; Mann’s camera doesn’t capture Frank, but stalks him in a city in real time decay. Slow, confident mobility is employed when Frank is on the move, and is Mann’s preferred means of capturing these somewhat sympathetic anti-heroes whose humanity would be completely untraceable if not for the stellar performances behind the stone walls. There is a nuance, a texture and detail to Frank and his crew that Mann maintains not just in writing, but in his meticulous capturing of criminal activity. Not a single false prop was used for the film’s heist sequences, convicts were brought to set to provide insider knowledge or perform as actors themselves, and the result are thrilling scenes of thievery made interesting not from the fear of failure, but the tactility and thought that goes into executing a crime at this scale. Sparks fly and they *burn*, shots recreated by the likes of *Better Call Saul* have the camera entering locks and elevator shafts for an even more granular perspective into a world no audience member would *really* want to be privy to. However, it’s not just the style that is delightfully detailed to the point of injecting a now tired plot with both life and death, but the script that turns these criminals into true characters.

I specify with the term “criminals” because the film’s most glaring flaw is the completely banal characterization of Frank’s love interest. While the portrayal is in line with Frank’s perspective of her, no one should be in the mind of this man turned machine. Made mechanical from years in prison, Frank is now a crime lord just realizing the life he’s lost. Played by a cold and confident James Caan, Frank at first appears like the typical criminal in personality alone. Swanky clothes and iconic sunglasses give Frank the cool-guy edge expected from the tumultuous “heroes” of this type, but his real character is hidden behind the shades, and he will be the first to tell you that the man behind the mask is the last one you’d want to mess with. Except, in typical fashion, Thief delves deeper than the average crime drama. The criminal mastermind always succeeds -after all - Frank is a professional. But managing crime is different than handling emotion, a fact that becomes evident for Frank as he attempts to execute his life plan in the same manner as his crimes. He is mechanical in his emotions and desires, wanting the “ideal life” with Jessie not out of true love, but because it’s the goal at the end of the finish line. Maybe Frank does love Jessie, but anybody who says they’re “even willing to take the leftovers” of an adoption agency is clearly trying to fill a checkbox instead of their heart. Frank has been so consumed by his life of crime, he simply cannot operate in a way different than a meticulous mastermind. The ensuing plot is one of violent shootouts, romantic slow motion montages, and surprisingly emotional beats of Frank reflecting on the life he himself even seems unsure of wanting. Delighting in cliches while managing to take a step further than the average crime procedural, capturing an urban space where every form of labor is either a thankless office job or big time crime, I cannot help but read more into the film’s themes. Because of its nuanced portrayal of its tortured characters stuck in cycles of dehumanizing and poisoned labor, the capturing of a nightmarish capitalist setting, and dialogue that equivocates work with death, one can easily translate the anti-capitalist themes of the best historical film noir’s onto the more colorful but equally vile streets of Mann’s underworld. The line “Back to work, Frank” doesn’t inspire dread because he has a 9 A.M. shift the next morning, but because it promises a life of unfulfilling, isolating, fatal work.

This thematic nuance is made glossy when expressed with an equally original and delightfully familiar script filled with one-liners that are now iconic epitaphs inscribed in the Neo-Noir canon. Meaning, we return to the fact that Mann manages an incredible balance of style and substance. It may be easy to look at the film with its simple title, now familiar aesthetics, and at times cheesy scenes and disgrace it as nothing more than another entry into the crowded canon of crime. However, as mentioned, Mann provides an interesting insight into the criminal world and the humans at its heart that makes Thief well worth the watch even half a century later.