COLLATERAL (2004)

In Navajo mythology, the coyote is considered to be an enigmatic, cunning creature. It’s believed to have existed since the beginning of time, living on the threshold of civilisation and wilderness. These beings are tricksters, greedy and malevolent. It’s for this reason that, in Navajo folklore, people are warned of coming into contact with the coyote. If you encounter one on a journey, you must turn around and return from whence you came… or risk annihilation.

Max (Jamie Foxx) doesn’t know it yet, but a coyote cloaked in human skin sits in the back of his cab. Vincent (Tom Cruise), a brash, well-dressed man with a concerning life philosophy, has asked Max to drive him around for the night. He has five stops to make and views a driver as adept as Max being a valuable asset. Though unconventional, Max accepts… but soon realises he’s made a deal with the devil.

Michael Mann’s Collateral isn’t just an uncommonly good thriller, it’s an invitation into darkness, a meditation on the tacit battle between good and evil. Stuart Beattie’s superb screenplay provides an unsettling insight into poisoned psyches, an astute examination of how nihilistic philosophies are often used to justify depraved and immoral behaviour. Additionally, the story presents a poignant look at how we lie to ourselves, at how our dreams are so often used to buttress an otherwise meaningless existence.

Unlike most people, Vincent finds meaning in meaninglessness. Armed with a nihilistic outlook (and a semi-automatic pistol), there’s nothing that stands between him and his mission: execute five people before the sun rises. All entreaties made by Max to have empathy for the people he is slaying prove fruitless; Vincent is completely unmoved by human sentiment.

When Max laments his coldness for murdering an unarmed civilian, Vincent enlightens him: “Millions of galaxies, of hundreds of millions of stars, and a speck on one in a blink… that’s us. Lost in space. The universe doesn’t care about you. The cop, you, me? Who notices?” It’s a chilling glimpse into an animalistic psychopathy, a man unconstrained by traditional laws of ethics or morality.   

It’s in this way that Vincent deftly avoids any sense of liability for his actions. When Max realises that Vincent killed the man who fell out of a four-storey window and landed on his car, the composed hitman refuses to be held culpable: “No. I shot him. The bullets and the fall killed him.” Our antagonist believes himself to be an agent of chaos, drifting in and out of cosmic narratives in the blink of an eye. When he isolates and eliminates his target, he won’t be noticed. And when he slips away into the night, he won’t be missed.

Max is stunned by his solipsism, unable to comprehend the mentality behind the man in his back seat. When he enquires as to the reasoning behind his brutality, Vincent responds apathetically: “There is no reason. No good reason; no bad reason—to live or to die.”

Max had no idea he was entering such a Faustian bargain. Yet, it’s important to note that Max doesn’t make such a concerted effort to escape from Vincent’s grasp as others might have. Something suggests that as disgusted as he may be with Vincent’s mission, as concerned and appalled as he is by the hitman’s philosophy, he is equally intrigued by the reptilian murderer in the back seat of his cab.

It is for this reason that, when Max masquerades as Vincent when dealing with the hitman’s contractors, he finally appears to flourish. For the first time that we have seen him, Max demonstrates self-confidence, resolve, and a menace that is as empowering as it is unnerving. As far as we can tell, the most formidable experience in this cabbie’s life arrives when he dons the attire of a professional killer, the moment when he is unfettered by ethical concerns: “Tell him to put the gun away—before I take it and beat his bitch ass to death with it.”

Though an action-thriller, this is truly a character-driven vehicle (much like our protagonist’s cab). It’s a story about Max and Vincent, with one serving as a foil to the other. Max has aspirations of creating a luxurious limousine company for the wealthy and elite, though it’s clear that this dream will always remain precisely that— a dream. It motivates him to continue driving, year after year, with his goal always being just within reach, whenever he finds the time to extend his hand and grasp it.

And Vincent? Well, he’s a psychopath. The standard parts that compose a normal, functioning human psyche are found wanting—he’s completely indifferent to the pain and suffering he inflicts on others. However, he’s important for Max’s development: he’s not a talker, but a doer. Unlike Max, who divulges his goals and nascent success to anyone willing to listen, Vincent reveals very little of his personal life or unhatched plans for the not-so-distant future.

That Vincent appears to be the strongest relationship Max has in his life offers another fascinating angle to the story. Max is irritable with his mother, incapable of contacting the woman he’s attracted to, and seemingly has no other companionship to speak of. From what we can tell, Max is alone, with only his hope for a lucrative career keeping him contented.

This fits the theme of urban isolation that permeates Collateral. As soon as Vincent steps into the cab, he laments the state of Los Angeles: “Nobody knows each other. Too impersonal. […] I read about this guy. Gets on the MTA here, and dies. Six hours, he’s riding the subway before anybody notices. This corpse doing laps around L.A., people on and off.” His disdain for modern alienation—as well as people’s general acceptance of the distance that characterises these megacities—informs his ruthlessness: no matter who he kills, no one will truly notice.   

He believes we’ve become completely detached from humanity in contemporary times. That urbanites could sit next to a corpse for hours at a time without realising serves as a parable for his personal religion. Vincent is a lonely demon, an evil manifestation of his own childhood neglect and trauma. Within the sprawling, towering metropolis of Los Angeles, his murderous actions become miniscule misdemeanours, and our disbelief that crime could ever be solved in such a monumental community lends support to his hypothesis.

The world may not have made him this way—but it certainly never impeded him. If human nature is as righteous as Max claims it to be, we’re left wondering why someone as villainous as Vincent could have come so far, and could have created such powerful connections. Though some of Vincent’s axioms immediately appear to be pseudoscientific or possess other logical fallacies, other maxims are harder to refute.

Amidst all these thematic interests and involving characters, the plot itself becomes of secondary importance. It’s a simplistic MacGuffin, yet it does everything that is required of it: a disenchanted cab driver finds an assassin in his back seat, and is taken on the night of his life. Writer Stuart Beattie shrewdly gets the plot started as quickly as possible, understanding that the true strength of his story lies in the fascinating personalities and not the plot’s occasionally predictable machinations.

This, in part, becomes the greatest asset of Collateral. Though it never reaches lofty heights, nor does it wring out some sequences of all the tension or drama that it possesses, Beattie and director Mann understand where the film’s strengths lie. We’ve seen people killed on the big screen before, but we’ve never seen Vincent kill before, nor have we been made privy to why he does it.

The performances in Collateral augment the already laudable script and ensure the film reaches its full potential. Jamie Foxx is impeccable, imparting a great deal with only a subtle change in his gaze. He was nominated for an Academy Award for ‘Best Supporting Actor’ in this film, though he would lose this coveted prize to Morgan Freeman for his work in Million Dollar Baby (2004). Fortunately for Foxx, he would win a prize even more sought-after when he was rightly chosen as ‘Best Actor in a Leading Role’ for his mesmerising turn in Ray (2004).

Needless to say, Foxx was on fire in 2004. So was his co-star Tom Cruise (Eyes Wide Shut), who chills as the suave assassin with zero moral scruples. Jada Pinkett Smith also demonstrates her acting talent, whilst Mark Ruffalo (Poor Things), Javier Bardem (No Country for Old Men), and Barry Shabaka Henley also make an appearance. Perhaps the greatest cameo of all, however, belongs to Jason Statham (Snatch), who appears for only a brief snippet at the beginning of the film, looking like he’d just wandered off the set of another Guy Ritchie film.

There are many ways one could categorise this film. It’s a great neo-noir thriller, with superlative characterisation and some impressive action sequences. It’s also the angriest road movie ever made, at least in my estimation. However, the film’s strongest elements can be found in the dark philosophy that permeates an above-average thriller, turning it into a sombre portrait of urban isolation and lost dreams.

USA | 2004 | 120 MINUTES | 2.39:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH • SPANISH • FRENCH • KOREAN

Cast & Crew

director: Michael Mann.
writer: Stuart Beattie.
starring: Tom Cruise, Jamie Foxx, Jada Pinkett Smith, Mark Ruffalo, Peter Berg, Bruce McGill, Irma P. Hall, Barry Shabaka Henley, Klea Scott & Javier Bardem.