Expectations were high when I first saw Michael Mann‘s big-screen adaptation of Miami Vice. The advertising looked like Heat meshed with Collateral, and everyone prepared themselves for another classic crime thriller featuring badass characters acting tough in intense shootouts with formidable villains.
At first, the film went according to plan. Crockett (Colin Farrell) and Tubbs (Jamie Foxx) outclassed opponents left and right; the soundtrack rocked, and the photography was stunning. Farrell was a little flat as Crockett, lacking Don Johnson’s laid-back swagger, but Foxx was excellent, and the plot was interesting.
Then Gong Li showed up.
I have nothing against the actress, but she was a poor choice to carry the film’s emotional core. She’s not terrible, but she’s not entirely likable either. Isabella, her character, is meant to be tough and independent but also sexy and vulnerable. These elements don’t blend well. It doesn’t help that Farrell and Li have very little chemistry and share a handful of awkwardly designed love scenes that bog down the second act. We laughed quite a bit in our empty theater.
Leaving the screening, the only thought I had was that Foxx stole the show. The film was electric whenever he was on screen and dull without him. And that was it. I never went back to Miami Vice. Not even when a Director’s Cut was released a few years later. Not even after I heard about the wonky behind-the-scenes drama, extensive script revisions, and difficult stars. In fact, following Public Enemies and Blackhat, I wrote off Mann as that guy who used to make great movies, which was a big mistake.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate Mann’s style much more. I admit he doesn’t always hit the mark, particularly
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