Body Heat
Without closure, there can be no catharsis, but some of the strongest neonoirs of the early eighties take a less open-ended approach; they lock into place like iron maidens around their hapless protagonists, fine-tuned mechanisms in an era of high-concept studio engineering. It’s telling that Steven Spielberg and George Lucas’s right-hand man Lawrence Kasdan, the cowriter of The Empire Strikes Back (1980) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), was keen to try his hand at another old-school homage, and also that he tried to reinject some of the sexiness that had become neutered in the surrounding blockbuster deluge.
In Body Heat (1981)—set, like Night Moves, in Florida mid-heat-wave—William Hurt’s inept lawyer gets warned about “following his dick into a very big hassle.” […] Kasdan’s satisfying, putatively progressive girl-on-top scenario deviated significantly from the seventies sacrificial-femme template (and generated reams of academic discourse as a result), while De Palma’s Blow Out ends, much like Chinatown, with the scream of an innocent woman slain on the altar of an upwardly mobile (and spiderily all-encompassing) conspiracy.
—Adam Nayman
“You’re not too smart, are you? I like that in a man.” For anyone who’s doing the neonoir marathon, Adam Nayman’s recent Criterion article is essential reading. He gives a killer synopsis of all the films (in order too!). Top tier stuff. Highly recommend. What to say about Body Heat? One of my faves that only improves upon multiple viewings. What struck me most on this rewatch is that the genius of Kasdan’s script is not that we don’t suspect what’s going on or how it will end; it’s watching Ned finally figure out what’s going on. The suspense is completely in what he’s going to do in response. Like Rififi—which I also saw recently—you reasonably assume that the crime’s going to be the end or the climax, and in both cases, it’s just the centerpiece leading to a more complex human conundrum. That’s what sets these apart in my mind & raises the standard.
Plus, let’s be honest, this movie’s just stylish and sexy as hell with not a single scene wasted or unnecessary. Still consider Turner one of the most fully formed femmes whose only possible rival is Ellen Barkin’s seductress in Sea of Love. As Ebert observed: “Women are rarely allowed to be bold and devious in the movies; most directors are men, and they see women as goals, prizes, enemies, lovers and friends, but rarely as protagonists. Turner's entrance in Body Heat announces that she is the film's center of power.” Electric chemistry between Turner and Hurt, who I’ve been permanently in love with ever since Broadcast News. His role’s totally different here, which he plays with a perfect combination of reckless passion and unraveling naivety.
Fun to see Ted Danson & Mickey Rourke so young, standing out even in more minor supporting roles. And of course, the heat. The sunshine’s almost a character in itself making you viscerally want a cup of iced tea the entire duration. In sum: Maybe it’s pure nostalgia, but I love a good erotic thriller, and Body Heat’s got that satisfying, sweltering hotness down for days. Great movie.
