To rid ourselves of the lingering aftereffects of Walk the Line's formulaic schmaltz, the Fesser and the cinetrix engaged in a little homeopathic healing by liberally applying the cool blues of Michael Mann's Heat. So shiny and machined!
Round about the 2 hour and 10 minute mark, a drowsy Fesser observed, "It's like The Seventh Seal of heist movies. When does DeNiro play chess with Death?" And then fell asleep, leaving yours truly to white-knuckle it alone for the final 40 minutes.
Just one question: What happened to Val Kilmer? Answer either in terms of the film or in a larger sense, if you'd like.
