The Long Take: The Fabulous Fashion of Michael Mann’s Movies
How fashion matters at the movies.
Before you read this, check out my review of Michael Mann’s latest effort Ferrari in the New York Sun, which is a comparison piece to the themes of the essay.
Michael Mann captivates a certain set of cinephiles. Call them neo-formalists, vulgar auteurists or just weirdos from another planet, Mann is the kind of haughty filmmaker one gets obsessed with at a young age. To understand why, if Jean Luc Godard and Quentin Tarantino aimed to be the coolest filmmakers, Mann set out to combine the experimentation of the former and the postmodernism of the latter, while maintaining the popcorn appeal of methodical manliness. That has the effect of becoming cool to that kind of audience.
Much has been written about Michael Mann’s stylings; his stoic characters, their pursuit of perfection, and his visual realism. But there’s one aspect that is neglected, yet fits into his oeuvre very easily and that is his consistency for fashion.
Before we look into that, we should talk about the importance of fashion in film culture. Costuming in film is one of the most salient parts of the visual medium, establishing and defining anything in the visual backdrop, whether it’s the setting or genre. If you are watching a political thriller, for example, some characters are more likely to wear suits and ties to present their professionalism. Think of James Bond, and you’ll also think of suave suits and cocktails. Watch Call Me By Your Name, and the clothes that Elio and Oliver wear are a pair of polo pants and shirts in Italy during the summer. But they are surrounded by characters of an academic background, so it could reveal how snobby these men could be.
Much of that is obvious, but it also enhances the appeal of its film. The clothes of Call Me By Your Name have the effect of making its men and the period it’s set in look attractive. And so do the big costumes of Moulin Rouge and Strictly Ballroom, both directed with lavish excess by Baz Luhrmann. The latter, particularly, adds to the conflict between the professional and amateur dancers into the forefront.
Few commentators combine fashion and cinema like no other than Abbey Bender and Calum Marsh. Bender, who is also an archivist, sees fashion as a part of history; Marsh writes fashion like a piece of consumption, which could be read as a complement or insult, wherever you stand. Either way, both individuals see fashion in film as important as writing, camerawork and editing. And Mann certainly does too.
Mann is far from the first or last director to make fashion important. You can boil down his films through the colours his characters are wearing: grey suits and hair, navy blues (The Last of the Mohicans, with its periodic costuming, is the exception to his rule). I feel that fashion is the most prominent part that comes to mind with Mann, compared to many other directors. They may use theme, and play with lighting, but I can’t think of anyone who uses fashion as a point of consistency.
What effect does the film’s taste in fashion have on the viewer? Does it make him or her want to feel like Neil McCauley, robbing a large bank in ski masks or sitting amongst his crew during a celebratory dinner wearing a sturdy suit? The most important explanation is that it establishes what kind of character he is. Here, I’m going to talk more specifically about what the men are wearing, and little else.
In Thief, Mann’s feature debut, Frank’s clothes elaborate on how aware he is of the inauthenticity of his status. The watches, suits and slacks are all expensive and Frank can only afford them, thanks to his criminal heists, not because he contributes to society. Frank tells his date, to be honest with her after she comes in a bit late. There, it brings up two things that we need to know about the character and the tensions that were brought about if we were judging by the attire that he wears. And with James Caan’s amazing performance, it brings out much of the personality that we need to know about him. More importantly, that Caan can pull off a leather jacket, alongside a navy blue turtleneck makes Frank a lot cooler.
Manhunter is one of Mann’s more visually intricate and vibrant efforts. Compared to Thief, Will Graham’s attire is bleaker, matching much of the darker lighting that saturates much of the film. His clothes become much warmer and lighter, if the cinematography is brighter, showing that he’s not out of place with the environment he surrounds himself. The only contrast is when Will enters into the crime scene which acts more like a dream, making his skills to lose himself in the killer’s mindset more disconcerting. A disturbed and meticulous individual disrupts the peaceful, blemished comfort of a bedroom.
Heat is the quintessential film of Mann’s career, particularly its taste in fashion. The battle between the cops and crews is clearly defined. Both Neil McCauley and Vincent Hanna, all wear darker clothes and only in one scene do the shirts they wear resemble any sense of contrast. Hanna has an untidy tie, conveying his exhaustion from being a detective. McCauley is calm, emotionally restrained and often in control of his destiny. These are the meanings of their clothes.
But then, why are Nate and Chris Shiherlis donning mullets? The hairstyles show how youthful or carefree they are, especially Nate, who’s been in the business of heists for a while now. But that practically matters, once Chris gets in the run with the law, to avoid being caught by the authorities after that one great heist. But this shows the styles having two utilities in the film, presenting either the state of one’s being or one's effort to evade the status quo.
The Insider, Collateral, and Miami Vice both continue this pattern of dudes wearing greyscale. Each of these personalities wears them under their sleeves. In The Insider, Jeffrey Wigand is vulnerable, but Lowell Bergman is pretty sturdy and strong. Vincent (showing Tom Cruise embracing his silver fox look) is mysterious. Like Neil McCauley, the grey suits reveal their experience of being a professional threat. Vincent, unlike Neil, wallows through manipulation and nihilism, which makes him more frightening.
Miami Vice is already well-known for its cool fashion from the 80s TV series, so Mann doesn’t reinvent anything in the film, except remix the clothes to match the modern setting. The Tubbs and Crocket here, and are much in tune with the grungier and tacky aesthetic of the 2000s. The only time the fashion becomes cooler in the viewer's eyes is when Crockett asks Isabella, the financial adviser for the drug lord Montoya, out for mojitos. That’s about it. But it’s cool due to the mood the film emits. It’s melancholy and relaxed, so one could associate it with either that moment or Crockett twirling with his mullet.
Ali doesn’t have many fashion moments and Public Enemies is more generic for a period film set in the 1920s and 30s. Blackhat’s fashion is also unremarkable, except during the climax where Chris Hemsworth’s computer hacker confronts the final villain.
Where does Ferrari, his latest film, sit in terms of style? Somewhere in the middle, as it has Enzo Ferrari’s three-piece suits to a tee. But the film is built on certain moments, and Ferrari the character is rather passive. Although it's quite cool to witness Pierro Taruffi making an appearance.
This is not the only piece that breaks down the fashion of Michael Mann. Calum Marsh has a old piece on Michael Mann’s fashion in Esquire that’s close to being detailed, and it does a better job of describing its significance than I could. But that speaks to the testament of the director’s recognizable traits and also why a piece of fabric is about as important as anything in film that keeps appearing in so-called film discourse.