Manhunter - 1986
This review may contain spoilers.
Manhunter is just about peak Mann. It contains all of his thematic infatuations and a leading man who is as fastidious and obsessive in his pursuits as the director is in his own. It is also really the birth of the serial killer genre, whose mileage has now run well over three decades. The first of the Lecktor films (though he gets a different spelling in this one), in typical Mann fashion, it's about the descent into a kind of madness for a protagonist consumed with the hunt, no matter what the cost to family and loved ones. (Sound familiar? You'll be seeing this one again 9 years later in Heat).
Speaking of Lecktor, it's worth noting the differences in Brian Cox's performance. Sir Anthony Hopkins' take is steeped in high art and urbane mannerisms. The mellifluousness and erudition of his line deliveries, his slicked back hair and erect posture all contribute to creating a "classy" serial killer. We almost catch ourselves wanting to hang out and listen to this guy for a while. Indeed, it's discovering ourselves in the act of this sort of morbid voyeurism which is one of the more memorable aspects of The Silence of the Lambs. Films which force us to peer into the more rough-hewn aspects of our own psyches, while uncomfortable, are always powerful. Alfred Hitchcock taught us that so many years ago.
Brian Cox' Lecktor, by contrast, is gritty and down-to-Earth. He lounges in his cell with a languid affectation, yet springs to action at a chance to snap back at the investigator who put him behind bars. But the key for Cox's presentation is that there is none of the theatricality present. His Lecktor just seems to know that he's the smartest guy in the room. He's more professorial than creepily high fashion. We're pretty sure he's a world class asshole the first time we meet him, but he hides his cannibalistic cards much better under his sleeve. It's so hard to answer which version I prefer. As a child of the 90's, Hopkins' performance has become ingrained in my brain, but I'll admit that I've spent more than a little time thinking about all that Manhunter's villain has to recommend it.
Of course, nearly all Mann films contain a game of cat and mouse, criminal masterminds and the slightly demented investigators who hunt them. Here, the protagonist has some beautiful film characteristics. In Silence, the agent played by Jodie Foster is so winning in demonstrating her naivete and attempts to "learn the ropes" in contradistinction to creepy superiors and a killer as experienced as they come. William Petersen is the exact opposite in this one. He is SO seasoned in entering the skulls of reprobates that he has actually retired from the force. He's had to step away to cultivate the life of a family man, because the horrors of capturing Lecktor continue to reverberate around his brain.
Yet this is a Mann film. The obsession lives large. So, when a phone call from his former superior (played deftly by Dennis Farina) comes down the wire, we know our tormented hero is gonna rejoin the fray. Petersen's particular gift is to examine photographs and crime scenes in a kind of entranced mental seance in which he begins speaking in the second person - "You needed to see her, didn't you?...And you know you need a bolt-cutter and every other goddamn thing... Because everything with you is seeing, isn't it?" The key, and to my mind, best moment of the film is when this shifts to the personal. "It's just me and you now, sport. And I'm gonna find you." As the camera zooms out, Will Graham is staring at his own reflection in the window.
So the hunt proceeds. Lecktor takes mostly a backseat here to Graham's hunt for the new killer on the loose, dubbed the Tooth Fairy by local periodicals. Tom Noonan's portrayal of said character is not entirely outright creepy, beyond the long sunken contours of his face. In fact, a strength of Manhunter is finding the last shards of humanity underneath the monster. This is done most notably through the introduction of Joan Allen as a blind co-worker who shows genuine attraction and interest in the antagonist. A moving scene of connection is shown and then a crushing defeat to his confused psyche when she appears to move on to other suitors. His pain and resolve now firmly entrenched, Noonan's character proceeds to stalk his next prey.
Beyond these things, I'll just conclude by noting several aspects of the director’s own design. The score, as always, is great here. The incredible bed of synths which open the picture build tension right away and return at critical junctures. The opening shot reinforces an attitude of "distance" between characters, and we see this time and again with individuals sharing the frame but looking and posturing in different directions. Finally, Mann's use of actors lit up against dark backdrops and dark foregrounds against light horizons are terrific. They are particularly affecting in the sequence with Noonan and Allen. In the end, these filmic elements, tremendous plotting, and fantastic characterizations come together to make a crime story which has been vastly underrated in the serial killer canon.
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