Manhunter (1986)

There isn’t a filmmaker better at crafting that midnight mood than Michael Mann and this is perhaps my favourite piece of evidence of the director’s recognisable style. While you can argue Heat or Thief is the more iconic demonstration of this, there’s something about the way Manhunter’s psychological descent into murder, crime, obsession and passion give it an even eerier sense of nighttime than his other works.

The way this film elicits images of sunsets and sunrises through blue, red, purple hues only further replicates the animalistic side to Mann’s work. Coupled with some truly entrancing sequences such as when Dollarhyde takes the blind reba to stroke a sedated tiger or the way he casually watches home video footage of his next family while she sits next to him is just… chilling. In a way, Mann’s film doesn’t feel like a thriller as much as it does horror because of these jarring and terrifying ideas is so concerned with playing with.

While the subsequent release of The Silence of the Lambs has overshadowed Mann’s work, there’s something deep within this beast that I can barely contain my admiration for besides Jonathan Demme’s masterpiece. It’s a disturbing work, but the overwhelming theme of obsession alongside the unavoidable concept of sacrifice help to give Mann’s film something of a beauty about it. Each frame, while terrifying, could very easily be framed on a wall. Mann is truly a master of his craft and a filmmaker I will always have love for.

90/100