Body Heat

 

Writer/director Lawrence Kasdan

Kathleen Turner and William Hurt

Kasdan and Kathleen Turner

BODY HEAT             A                                                                                                                  USA  (113 mi)  1981  d: Lawrence Kasdan

Ned is caught in limbo, in a dream.  I wanted this film to have the intricate structure of a dream, the density of a good novel, and the texture of recognizable people in extraordinary circumstances.        —Lawrence Kasdan, quoted by Richard Corliss from Time magazine, August 24, 1981, Cinema: Torrid Movie, Hot New Star 

The debut film for both Kasdan and Kathleen Turner, this is a sweaty entry into the heat-oppressed, neo-noir landscape, joining films like J. Lee Thompson’s Cape Fear (1962), Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye (1973), John Huston’s CHINATOWN (1974), and Arthur Penn’s Night Moves (1975). While comparisons are aptly made to Double Indemnity (1944), with Turner playing the Barbara Stanwyck femme fatale, yet perhaps going further to an even darker place, it actually opens just like  Out of the Past (1947), with William Hurt playing the Robert Mitchum role waiting to meet “the girl,” even if he has to wait endlessly at a bar she frequents until she finally shows up, and when she does, the hot and sticky Floridian landscape is ripe for the raw sexuality of a heated erotic thriller with murderous implications.  After co-writing the screenplays of two hugely successful movies, George Lucas’s THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK (1980) and Stephen Spielberg’s RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (1981), the former advertising copywriter was offered a chance to direct his own film, making the most of his opportunity, initially turned down by Fox because he insisted upon casting unknown stars, but George Lucas agreed to help finance the film for a smaller studio, even offering advice in the editing room that Kasdan never forgot, reminding him, “Making movies has nothing to do with the technical stuff.  It has everything to do with what kind of person you are.”  Set in the backwater town of Miranda Beach, Florida in the middle of a heat wave, Hurt plays Ned Racine, a lawyer of dubious reputation, with a slew of one-night stands under his belt, whose best friends are assistant deputy prosecutor Peter Lowenstein (Ted Danson, a year before he landed the lead television role in Cheers) and police detective Oscar Grace (J. A. Preston, a year before he landed a television role in Hill Street Blues), who have a habit of meeting in a local diner, shooting the breeze while catching up on their sordid lives, with Lowenstein living vicariously off Racine’s sexual exploits.  It’s clear this is largely a male-driven film, where everything is seen through the eyes of Racine, a bright, likable guy who is the anchor of the film, a small-town lawyer striking it big when he meets an alluring femme fatale in Matty Walker (Kathleen Turner), who is simply extraordinary, reveling in her sexuality with an undeniably devastating presence that literally jumps off the screen (Hurt gets top billing, but Turner steals the show), married to one of the wealthiest men in the area who is twenty years her senior, trapped in a loveless marriage with an ironclad prenuptial agreement that leaves her nothing, living in a mammoth estate, the kind of thing you only see in pictures, yet what we remember is the haunting sound of the front porch wind chimes.  Their torrid affair is all hush hush, but we quickly surmise what’s at stake, surrounded by swaying palms and the constant threat of danger, though we never really get under her façade to see what’s lurking underneath, becoming a seductive metaphor for the destructive power of ambition, offering a staggering amount of hints and inferences, though it’s typically viewed through the male perspective, a product of the male fantasy, driven by ego and lust, where the sweat and suffocating heat provide the atmospheric conditions for some sizzling sex and lurid ideas that extinguish all rational thought, leading into a danger zone, where murder and sex are the same impulse, resulting in a deal to kill the husband consummated in a lawyer’s office.  This film set the tone for a string of excellent neo-noir films that followed, like Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), the Coen Brother’s Blood Simple (1984), William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in LA (1985), David Lynch’s BLUE VELVET (1986), also Michael Mann’s Thief (1981) and MANHUNTER (1986).

Openly intending to reinvent the seething amorality of the best film noirs from the 1940’s, it’s got it all in this neon-shaded contemporary romance, where lust, greed, murder, duplicity, and betrayal are proud standard bearers for this creatively inspired movie, with a jazzy sax-heavy musical score composed by John Barry (who scored many James Bond movies) that elevates the film, heightening the emotional stakes, remaining sexy, seductive, and a little sad, John Barry - Body Heat - 1981 YouTube (3:17), where perhaps the most recognizable refrain comes near the end of this musical sequence, Body Heat - Track 06 I'm Frightened YouTube (2:36).  The torrid chemistry between lead actors William Hurt and Kathleen Turner helped launch the much-discussed film into part of the public conversation, adoringly shot in ‘Scope by Richard H. Kline, expressing a luxurious and sultry beauty.  Exhibiting a razor-sharp tongue, Matty’s opening salvo is “You’re not too smart, I like that in a man,” Body Heat (1981) Lawrence Kasdan HD William Hurt, Kathleen Turner YouTube (4:56), immediately setting the stage for what follows.   Hunkered down at the local watering hole for the exclusive and the elite, Racine scopes the joint before finding his opportunity, assuming a position next to her that few have been privileged enough to obtain, only to hear that smoky, husky voice offer her lay of the landscape, like a warning shot, “There are some men once they get a whiff of it they trail you like a hound,” yet all her dire warnings of disappointment only whet his appetite for more, getting him so wound up there’s no possible way he could just get up and walk away, Body Heat (1981) - Bar Scene - 1080p HD YouTube (3:48), getting ensnared in a nihilistic vision only meant for the most primal impulses, yet he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he’s heard the call of the wild, Body Heat 1981 William Hurt, Kathleen turner YouTube (1:41).  Once he’s hooked, he’s trapped in the illusion of love and glory, which she feeds to him on a platter, finding himself sucked into believing this is paradise, the answer to all his prayers, yet there’s an insatiable need that drives his every move, living on the edge, where he’s constantly reminded there’s an immovable obstacle standing in his way, who only shows up on weekends, but a formidable opponent, as he has money, marriage, and the law on his side, while Racine would be viewed as an opportunist, an outside intruder, a man driven by the worst impulses, where he hasn’t a leg to stand on, which comes to light in a chance encounter, meeting face to face, where Edmund Walker (Richard Crenna, aka Colonel Trautman from the Rambo movies), is a force to be reckoned with, Great Richard Crenna scene in 'Body Heat' (1981) YouTube (4:27).  She’s the outlier, the exception to the rule, driven by the same darker regions that Racine inhabits, only more cunning and calculating, an unscrupulous and sinister woman whose greed knows no bounds, seemingly smoothing it all out, making murder seem necessary and normal, but it’s an aberration, a violation of all that’s untarnished, twisting things up in his mind and making him think it was all his idea.  Kasdan hired Carole Littleton as the film editor to get a female perspective, especially when it came to the sex scenes, much of which ended up on the cutting floor, as he didn’t want this to resemble a male sex fantasy.  A tagline for the film suggests, “As the temperature rises, the suspense begins.”

Racine is not the Atticus Finch lawyer depicted in the movies, but is defined by his human flaws, with a small practice in a small Florida town about an hour north of Miami, handling all kinds of cases, personal injury suits, wills, real estate deals, more serious crimes and anything else that looks promising.  A womanizer who gets easily distracted by danger and sex, he is introduced in the courtroom as a shady character who leans toward sleaze, with a judge scolding him for his flimsy defense in a fraud charge, with a dubious client who miraculously avoids jail time, warned by the judge not to come back to his courtroom without “a better defense or a better class of client,” with Lowenstein congratulating him afterwards for effectively “using incompetence as a weapon.”  This sets the stage for the murky, rot-infested world he inhabits, a smart-ass with a cynical view about the way things work, a small-time character who has a way of getting away with things, like a grown-up frat boy who’s maintained his childish demeanor, as it’s always worked for him, but he’s purely minor leagues.   Meeting Matty Walker is a step into the big time, where the stakes are greater, and the crimes are much more ruthlessly ambitious, as the source of Edmund Walker’s wealth is an undisclosed secret, where his silent investment partners also have a way of getting what they want, willing to do whatever it takes (“Whatever is necessary”), no matter how devious or underhanded, with suggestions that shadowy, criminal-affiliated behavior is a routine part of their playbook.  For Racine to enter the lion’s lair, he would have to get mixed up in the nefarious business of foul play, and this is where Kathleen Turner does not disappoint, as she’s one of the great femme fatale characters of all time, where she skyrocketed to fame from a position of anonymity.  The murder actually occurs midway through the film, with a surprisingly long aftermath allowing Racine to get lost in a maze of narrative confusion, where that extended breadth allows for a slower pace with some astonishing revelations, as the noose around his neck slowly tightens, discovering he’s not the kind of man he thought he was, weak-willed, easily manipulated, and blinded by male delusion.  The first time seeing this film viewers will likely be gobsmacked by the finale, which completely subverts the film noir tradition, some of it due to the easing of censorship codes, with sexuality inherent to the genre, showing copious amounts of graphic sex that was not allowed in the 1940’s, while modern era neo-noirs can also play with different kinds of outcomes, as women are allowed to be as bold and as devious as men, offering an innovative use of plot twists, developing new realities with a greater sense of authenticity than was present in the 40’s.  This is a film that pays reverence to the film noir traditions, wearing its influences like a badge of honor, with Kasdan having done his homework, writing some exquisite dialogue, offering surprising twists, where it’s not by accident that it is still revered today.  These were also breakout performances by Ted Danson, but also Mickey Rourke, playing a savvy ex-con who happens to be an explosives expert, as their careers were jumpstarted by their work in this film.  Ironically, the film was actually shot during a rare cold spell during the winter in Lake Worth, Florida, where stagehands were actually wearing coats when this was being shot, using sprayed-on sweat to create the illusion of heat, which this film sells in every scene, becoming the predominate mood and backdrop for the moral abyss that swallows up these characters.  Turner’s smoldering performance lays the blueprint for Linda Fiorentino in THE LAST SEDUCTION (1994) and Jennifer Tilly in the lesbian noir mélange of Bound (1996), perhaps the last of the great erotic thrillers, though one might also include Diane Lane in Adrian Lyne’s UNFAITHFUL (2002), along with Meg Ryan and Jennifer Jason Leigh as sex-starved sisters in Jane Campion’s In the Cut (2003).

Putty Hill

PUTTY HILL                          B                     

USA  (85 mi)  2010 d:  Matthew Porterfield

This is what you might call spur-of-the-moment filmmaking, because as the filmmaker was set to begin filming one movie called METAL GODS, the financing from grants for that project fell through at the last minute.  But since a camera crew and a group of non-professional actors were ready to go, they instead shot this film on the fly from a hastily put together 5-page script, costing $20,000, shot on HD Cam in less than two weeks in Baltimore in August of 2009.  It’s taken nearly two years following a year on the festival circuit for this project to find the public, and even then, opens on very few screens.  Porterfield’s first film, HAMILTON (2006), ran just slightly over one hour and felt like a minimalist, non-narrative mood piece, a near wordless, slice of life mosaic that was interesting in the abstract, where the story was secondary to the rich construction of character and place, where the artful beauty was in lyrical observation.  Once more, offering few embellishments and only a scant narrative, this film offers a window into a lower-middle class fabric, feeling almost like eavesdropping, offering a rare authenticity into the world of the people inhabiting this neighborhood.  But in an unusual twist, the director himself from behind the camera asks random questions to kids on the street that have a connection to a young twenty-year old who recently died of an overdose, asking if they knew him, for how long, and if they’re going to the funeral service.  This is reminiscent of THE BIG CHILL (1983) or RETURN OF THE SEACAUCUS SEVEN (1979), but it’s a much more scattered approach, as many of the friends barely know one another, and are connected to only one small piece of the puzzle, while his neighbors may have known him his entire lifetime. 

This approach offers a broader range of social fabric, including kids coming in from out of town who fit right into their little cliques that they were a part of when they left.  Unlike the spoiled brat rich kids seen on TV shows or in Hollywood comedies, these kids lead more modest lives, where a large part of it is sitting around and doing nothing, feeling bored and alienated not only from the adults, but the world around them.  Many of their conversations together don’t really lead anywhere, as feeling disconnected and not having anything to say is what they’re used to.  The offscreen questions have a way of bringing people together by a common purpose, but the viewer never gets the impression this group is a cohesive whole, more like a collection of various parts, where the camera observes their behavior one piece at a time, like a finely observed character study.  There is an exquisite scene where a bunch of kids go swimming in the natural flora of a local creek, and another where the camera finds a lone soul at a bike and skate park, where the commonality of age and interest begins to represent a social strata, but more often than not we observe these characters one at a time as they interact with family or friends.  Unlike HAMILTON however, here it feels important to know the myriad of relationships, such as who’s related to the family of the deceased.  With many of the kids feeling like interchangeable parts, this gets lost in the maze, which is a troubling factor.  The film simply doesn’t provide much help in identifying the relevant players.  Instead, it prefers to mix them all together while insisting upon its own structural ambiguity, which doesn’t really work with a documentary style questioner.

Nonetheless, much like Portland indie director Gus van Sant, this film offers a unique portrait into adolescence just by allowing kids to be kids in their natural habitat.  The cluttered interior rooms where they hang out are especially insightful, having a much more anarchistic look of rage and alienation, offering few signs of the typical look of teenage conformity.  The young high school girls, however, all look like hippie chicks, where in that respect, this could just as easily be a West coast van Sant production.  Gone are the copycat mall reproductions, each kid an Abercrombie & Fitch assembly line copy of the next, including that mile-a-minute mode of Valley girl speech.  These kids speak naturally, even quietly, without the incessant use of cell phones and without forcing their opinions on others, where none of them seems to spew a political agenda.  But despite the window into youth culture, which certainly feels authentic, one wonders if that is enough, especially as it’s all leading to a funeral service which has a noticeably quicker editing scheme, where people are cut off abruptly, which doesn’t happen anywhere else in the film.  As a viewer, one might have preferred to keep the cameras rolling, continuing the theme of feeling like an observer at a real event, such as the rambling but unforgettable bar sequences with Gene Hackman doing a striptease from Jerry Schatzberg’s SCARECROW (1973) or Cassavetes’ classic imperfections in the roundtable bar tributes to the deceased from HUSBANDS (1970).  Instead, perhaps due to lack of time, this sequence feels hastily put together, where we’re only seeing the edited highlights, like a greatest hits montage.  Still, despite the quibbles, the film extols a natural sound design where cars passing and dogs barking are every bit as important as words getting lost in various conversations, where like Altman, the director can change the focus not just with the lens but with the use of sound.  The final sequence returns to an exquisite lyrical abstraction, a free-ranging experimental design of music and light that inventively goes out in style.