Death of the Western Icon
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Today, I found out Michael Mann was officially developing Heat 2...
Get the fuck out of here. I’m so over it.
Exploiting the audience’s ravenous craving for nostalgia.
Heat (1995) is in my top 5. It perfectly captures the dispute between cop and robber, and how the two understand each other better than anyone in the world but just so happen to be in opposing lines of work.
Though, it was ultimately how the film ended which made me adore it. As the two characters interlock hands, and the cinema score picks up, everything is seamless—complete catharsis, a moment of frisson.
An abomination it is; future generations will not get to experience that moment the same way I did knowing there is a sequel, that the question gets answered.
Why ruin the rhetorical ending?
When the question doesn’t get answered, it is up to the viewer to come their own conclusion.
The act of thought, especially when concluding a story or an idea, is crucial for those who lack imaginary prowess to think in its entirety. The work is supposed to guide you to the end, leaving it up to you to put the icing on the cake or the killing blow.
The past is our future. We should not ignore it, nor should we overindulged. Though, it is the overindulgence of the previous which leads me to feel deeply jaded.
Suffocation from the surfeit of the immediate saeculum.