Miami Vice: Imagery, Texture and Movement
How Miami Vice philosophically and cinematically speaks to us...
There are many films out there that are as great as Miami Vice, especially when it comes to the same genre and style. However, there is none yet out there that can give me peace like Michael Mann’s thriller. It’s a different trip. It’s an intoxicating experience. There’s everything in it that one could ask for. Violence, poetry, dance, music, and romance all coexist. By the time it reaches its third act, you just want to be in it.
Simply focus on the erotically charged soundtrack. Gaze upon those heavens and the azure ocean stretching before your eyes. The film's imagery is surreal. It has an inky texture and color. It's a lean, mean machine that grinds tragedy and beauty together along the way.
There's even a difference in the opening credits (Director’s Cut /alternate version). Had it been anyone else, the credits would have been in a white typeface; nevertheless, Mann went for an inky blue against a tone-appropriate color palette.
I'm always as amazed by it as I was when I saw it for the first time on the big screen back in 2006. And I can't even begin to count the number of times I've watched the film since it came out on Blu-ray and DVD. It's my go-to drug, if that's safe to say. It's an addiction I can't seem to kick, an intoxication that never goes away. It's a party. It's a celebration. And at a celebration like this, boredom has no place.
Miami Vice is a different kind of cosmos. The film employs a unique and alien aesthetic. From close-up of a character gazing at the ocean, to cutting-edge weaponry, villains, heroes, and fashionable cars, boats, planes, and even facial hairstyles, the film masterfully captures the essence of poetry via these elements without flaw.
Speaking about peering into emptiness, it’s a classic Mann trait that we have seen in many of his other masterpieces. Mann claims that such a shot represents isolation, contemplation, and alienation stemming from Alex Colville's 1967 painting "Pacific."
Metaphorically and in its deep undercurrents, Miami Vice deals with responsibility, pride, honor, professionalism, and friendship. Additionally, there is a feeling of intelligence without a sense of urgency, and the characters' mushy pasts are left out because Mann has always preferred to stick with reality. The theatrical version, which Mann maintains is his original cut, opens with the Miami nightclub scene for a reason. Sonny and Tubbs throw us into the world without instruction.
Since Mann treats us like sentient beings, it is our responsibility to follow through in order to understand not only Miami Vice but his whole body of work, for Mann talks in imagery, texture, action, and movement of the film.
Miami Vice is a brilliant example of filmmaking, and anyone attempting to comprehend the profession of cinema should pay attention. Mann has created a work that both philosophically and cinematically speaks to us. I will always hold it in high regard, and I trust that anyone who gives it a chance will also come to appreciate it.