Every Little Thing I Adore About 'Thief'

 

I first saw Thief at an all-night movie marathon dedicated to its director, Michael Mann- and it floored me. After years championing uber-modern classics like Heat and The Insider I was smacked in the face with another film that could stand up to even their genius. It’s just as cutting-edge, viciously incisive and disarmingly human as anything he’s made since- and demands to be seen and loved by anyone with even half an eye on great crime cinema...

There’s something so instantly engaging about this movie’s opening moments: A car’s headlights flick up, it picks up a passenger and it rolls away into the night- all for us to follow. It’s a beautifully simple way to jump into a story, without any pretense of pretty scenery to kill time before a real beginning. Just a car, a guy- and the rain-soaked ambience of Tangerine Dream.

The looooong crane shot that patiently sets the mood for the opening scene: Sprawling apartment complexes stacked so high that their roots seem to run down forever as he trace their endless fire escape stairways down to the city streets. It’s a fantastic image that tugs us right down to where the movie needs us to be: The subterranean shadows of the criminal underworld.

This movie’s perfect synthesis of stygian 70s crime aesthetics with the neon-slaked electricity of the new decade. Gordon Willis’ inky darkness pierced by hot flourescant light. Beautiful stuff.

I fucking LOVE the way Tangerine Dream’s synth score STINGS as Mann cuts into extreme macro close-ups of the drill. The coverage here is great- but the music is doing so much of the work in propelling the glacial tension of this sequence.

This wicked-slick macro zoom through the tiny hole in the vault door to the mechanism inside. It’s this kind of shot that really marks Thief as a landmark cinematic transition between decades- punching the visual language of the past full of a newfound flair and momentum. It’s also worth noting that Mann’s almost exclusive use of static angles throughout this scene makes this bigg zoom hit so much harder!

The way Frank blows dust out of the lock he just broke and smiles to himself. Always search for little ways to let your characters express their personality.

Frank tossing away bags of diamonds like they’re nothing. I think a lot of movies wouldn’t have the courage to let this scene play without an earlier explanation or voiceover specifying that the character should “leave the gems”. Mann trusts that we’re here to watch our lead do what he does best- and that we’ll understand what he wants more intuitively if we watch and learn. It’s also worth noting that allowing a character to play a scene without exposition like this shows the audience that they’re already experienced and know exactly what they want- and how to get it…

Thief was Michael Mann’s breakout movie and a huge part of standing out in any artistic medium is the self-confidence to take big swings nobody else would try. This movie kicks off with a 10 minute heist with almost zero dialogue and it HAS YOU from the first frame to the last. The trick is absolute confidence: Framing the sequence with no compromises in case it ‘doesn’t work’. It’ll work if you trust it- and Mann’s career has flourished for decades off the back of this kind of creative bravado. Give the audience something no-one else would think of- and fewer still would dare to try.

But there’s more than one flavour of guts necessary to make your movie soar- and stacking the story with killer scenes doesn’t always make a great film. Mann follows his ballsy 10-minute cold open with another curio: A tiny little moment between these two old friends in which they discuss nothing to do with the plot. Why? Well, if you wondered why the thieves did what they did, maybe this stunningly surreal image offers a bit of a breadcrumb as to why. They all go home in the morning, back to their homes, down to the café to buy a few fresh Danishes to share with their buddies- and they live. Simply, in the moments they can steal. There’s something so quietly moving about the way Mann always fights to include moments of unscathed humanity like this in his crime films. As calculating as they might seem, his characters are still people- and in many ways including a little ‘plotless’ moment like this perfectly illustrates that when it comes to life, they might be just as lost as we are in their story.

The way we casually cut to Frank on his car lot, wordlessly answering the question of how he launders (and invests) his money- but in this throwaway interaction with one of his staff also quietly show that it’s not just a lazy front. He doesn’t just sit in a back office while his car lot provides cover from his crimes- he genuinely gives a shit about the business he’s bought. Little details go a long way.

Frank’s cute, clumsy flirting with Jessie at the counter. They play their relationship so naturally and it really helps give this stylised movie a very genuine emotional centre.

The way we hold on the revolving phone booth door for a moment as Barry darts out, as if the movie’s taking a deep breath while the players figure out what the fuck they’re gonna do.

How meekly Frank plays this little moment where he’s trying to bluff his way into the back office. He gets interrupted when another girl asks if anyone wants coffee but he doesn’t push- just quiets down and waits his turn without making any fuss. It disarms his mark- and gets him through the door.

Plus the way he silently weighs up the room, clocking this potential witness- or problem- and meeting his eye like he’s got nothing to hide.

How real Thief is about Frank’s skill-set and immediate readiness for violence. A lot of crime flicks get weighed down in specialisation: You have ‘the master hacker who can’t fight’ ect. Thief might be a movie about a safe-cracker, but he’s a hardened criminal first and foremost. Frank isn’t a pulp caricature- he’s a rough piece of work who can and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants. His ability just allows the story to work harder to get in his way.

This wonderful cut from the tension of the last sequence smack into this next vital scene. Thief’s patient momentum is a remarkable work of editing.

How helpless Frank looks in this scene with Willie Nelson (whose wild, restless eyes are a perfect choice). He jumps when the bell sounds as if it’s literally saved him from being in there a moment longer. It’s such a great bit of pacing: Carrying us right from his towering dominance in the previous scene straight through to his piercing shame here. Again, Mann’s relentless drive to expose the raw humanity of his criminal characters is a thing of haunting beauty.

The restraint in this scene’s editing. Mann and co. wait patiently for this shot to hit us with a good look at Leo- and instantly reveal his insidious nature. We hear all the amazing things he can offer Frank- and then we’re hit with this face. It’s a devilish slice of dramatic irony that’s not just in this brilliant shot- but the timing of its strike.

I love the middle-aged mixture of desperation and apathy that fuels Frank’s actions, like he’s sick of dating but still wants someone to be with. And Weld’s own frustration seems to keep her from calling the cops when he turns up late and stuffs her into his car. It’s a gleefully twisted scene, bittersweet in its warped bluntness. They both want it to work because they’re both so tired of trying- and Frank’s madman persistence, however ungentlemanly, manages to crack through the bullshit and win them a second chance. Everything about it shouldn’t work- and yet I’ve always found it morbidly endearing.

“So let’s cut the mini-moves and the bullshit and get on with this big romance!”

“…WHAT?!”

Frank using his hand to illustrate how much of an asshole Weld’s dead drug-dealer husband was. BIG asshole.

The two actors taking off their jackets as they gradually ease into the conversation.

When Frank mentions his new, “faster” method of making enough money to get out- the ambient traffic that’s been playing through the scene is shot through with a shrill car screech. A subtle detail easily missed- but even subconsciously its great foreshadowing.

This conversation in the diner remains one of my favourite scenes in movie history. Running over 9 minutes without a single shred of self-consciousness, it’s one of the most profoundly honest- earnest exchanges I’ve ever seen on a screen. This is the kind of human magic movies are made for.

The way little scenes like this might come off as hokey in a lesser movie- but in Thief they work because we know the risk it takes to make them happen. All of this happiness is hanging by a thread- and they’re unashamedly cherishing every minute they can steal.

What a deliciously grimy locker room. You really can’t beat real-world locations like these. Dress a set with as many millions as you can spare- but it’ll never have been lived-in like this one.

How blunt Frank is in all his business conversations- no matter how big the guy is he’s talking to. Cut to bone, without a shred of small talk or bullshit. They might think it’s rude- but they know it isn’t personal. Reminds me of Walker from another one of my favourites, the inimitable Point Blank.

I’ve always loved this slow zoom-out of the couple cuddling after Frank’s blowup at the adoption centre. It’s a little therapy for both of them and underlines the kind of reserved people they really are behind closed doors. But in the context of the fire that burns their brave new lives to the ground by the end of the film- there’s something silently tragic about this precious moment, especially after what Frank revealed in the previous scene. He was state-raised, in a bruised childhood that likely set him on the wrong path. Somehow, some way- a part of him probably thinks the game was rigged from the start; and that all the joy he can manage with his new partner is simply on borrowed time before the shadow that has suffocated his dream of a decent life strikes again.

I love how much Frank’s blunt frustration throws Leo. He’s so used to guys being scared of him that Frank’s lack of manners kicks him square in the gut. But again, the relationship works because its build on mutual respect. James Caan isn’t playing a stereotypical hotshot who thinks he’s above everyone else- he’s a veteran criminal who just expects everyone to do the same level of business that he does.

The way Frank cheerily calls this random waiter back over to inform him they’ve named their son, especially after being a little icy with him mere moments earlier. A load really was lifted here.

The simple, potent coverage throughout this heist set-up scene.

This officer literally hitting Frank with the phonebook to cap off a brutal beating- and the way his colleague watches on, impassive, like he’s seen it all a million times before.

How long Mann relishes tracking around this bus to reveal the wild goose chase Frank has led the cops on- and the way it flows seamlessly into the next scene with a simple graphic pan up into the night sky- with the darkness pulling us back down into the city skyline where the heist is already underway. Beautiful stuff.

The way Mann and Co. wanted the camera DIRECTLY BEHIND the molten-hot stream of pure head so it spits a storm of sparks right into the lens.

A smoke-slaked Frank wearily pulling up a chair to sit back and breathe once the vault door is down. This is a minor moment- but so real. Your characters aren’t superhuman, and Frank’s master thief slouching back after a hard day on the job is an oddly relatable moment.

The way Tangerine Dream’s score steadily builds to this big reveal, with Frank and Jessie happily enjoying the fruits of their labour. I saw Thief for the first time on the big screen, smack at the start of an all-night Michael Mann marathon at the Prince Charles Cinema in Leister Square (ALWAYS worth a visit!) and this moment hit me like a rocket. So rarely do crime movies actually show their characters enjoying the spoils of their trade- and the beaten-up 35mm print of this radiant beach scene was bleached out in all the right ways, like it was literally melting out of some hazy dream. I actually thought this was the end of the movie- and in a way this should-be capstone climax makes what happens next even more tragic…

This fun fluff shot of neon signs bleeding across Frank’s hood as he cruises across town.

This beautiful little tracking shot of Frank pacing back onto his car lot. Nothing to add, shit’s just gorgeous!

The utter genius of letting Leo deliver this harrowing monologue straight into the lens, framed upside down- and in chillingly out of focus. Every choice here is a risk that pays off in one of the most blunt, haunting villain speeches in crime movie history. Leo repays Frank’s lack of manners in kind- and its horrifying.

Frank’s disassociated, robotic delivery while he asks Weld to tear down their lift and move on. Even if he kills every last ‘bad guy’- the man’s hope has been snuffed out like a light. His chance at a good life is gone, forever.

These shots of Frank sitting alone after he’s thrown his wife and child out of their own house, especially the reverse as we watch the trees through his eyes- holding on them as they sway in the breeze. It’s a moment of calm desolation beyond description- a life in ruins while the moonwashed world waltzes on in their wake.

How smooth Frank’s movements are as the score drops out and he breaks into Leo’s house. Even when it comes to revenge, he’s all business.

This moment of a woman (Leo’s wife?) witnessing the break-in but just silently going back to watching her TV. How many years of living with these monsters did it take to numb someone like this?

I love the silence and lack of coverage that makes this shot so potent. We know Leo is onto Frank- and he’s gone… but where?

The trippy frame-rate racking that helps this kill stand out.

Frank rising into frame and tugging his jacket back on when the carnage has finally ended. Fun fact: During an interview, Tangerine Dream literally said the killer closing score here is directly based off Pink Floyd’s ‘Comfortably Numb’, which had released 2 years earlier. Instead of trying to top that composition, they wrote this piece as a fun take on a very similar sound. Great stuff.

So that’s Thief, quite simply one of the finest crime films ever made. It’s a slick evolution of the previous decade’s inky underworld fare with more than enough depth and desolation to keep it leagues above the pulpy genre fare that would follow over the coming years. In spite of TG’s triumphant music I’ve recently realised the end of this story is far from a celebration. Frank’s life is effectively over- and he’s given up all hope of chasing his aspirations to release himself from the criminal world. Walking off into the dark, with only a void waiting for him. Mann recognises that the life of a movie criminal is a tragedy, perhaps because their intense drive and masterful skill could have been put to use making the world better, instead of slowly ruining their own life. This is the lesson- and he explores it with thrilling conviction every single time.