Collateral is the kind of movie that feels like it should have left a larger cultural footprint. Released in 2004 between several of Michael Mann’s better-known films, it arrived as a sleek and atmospheric crime thriller built around an unlikely pairing: a mild-mannered Los Angeles taxi driver and the contract killer who forces him into the most dangerous night of his life. Nearly two decades later, its strengths have only become more apparent. Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx deliver terrific performances, Mann creates one of the most distinctive cinematic portraits of Los Angeles and the film uses its confined premise to explore some surprisingly deep questions about choice, agency and the lives people allow themselves to live.
Max and Vincent represent two radically different approaches to life. Max is passive, non-confrontational and comfortable maintaining the appearance of ambition without actually taking the risks necessary to pursue it. He has plans for his future and carefully imagines what his life could become, yet he continually finds reasons not to take the next step. At the same time, he is meticulous and highly competent at his job. Vincent is his opposite. He is charismatic, cunning and decisive, but his confidence comes from an almost complete detachment from the value of human life. Vincent has agency without morality, while Max has morality without agency. Their encounter forces Max to confront the uncomfortable possibility that simply having good intentions means little if you never act on them.
That contrast extends into the film’s larger examination of fate versus choice. Vincent initially appears to be the lion while Max is the gazelle. One has control over nearly every situation he enters, while the other seems content to let circumstances dictate his direction. But Collateral gradually complicates that relationship by asking whether fate is something that happens to us or something we allow to happen because we refuse to make difficult choices. Vincent may be the person physically controlling Max’s night, but Max has spent years surrendering control of his own life in much quieter ways. His journey is therefore less about becoming like Vincent and more about realizing that passivity is itself a choice.
The film’s title becomes increasingly appropriate in that context. Max spends his life carrying other people’s stories while putting his own on hold. His taxi becomes a physical representation of that existence. He drives other people to their destinations while remaining stationary in his own life. Vincent, meanwhile, arrives with a very specific purpose and treats everyone around him as disposable pieces in a larger plan. The two men are trapped together, but they represent opposite forms of imprisonment. Vincent is controlled by his own worldview and emotional detachment, while Max is controlled by fear, routine and his reluctance to disrupt the comfortable life he has constructed.
Los Angeles functions almost as a third character. Mann captures the city at night as a living network of lights, highways, buildings and reflections without allowing the ambient glow to overwhelm the characters. That visual approach is particularly important because so much of the film takes place inside Max’s taxi. A movie that spends this much time in one confined space could easily become visually repetitive, but Mann constantly finds ways to make the environment outside the vehicle part of the scene. Reflections in windows, blurred lights and the constantly shifting Los Angeles skyline create the sensation that Max and Vincent are moving through a city that never stops, even when they are trapped together.
Mann’s decision to predominantly shoot the film using early high-definition digital cameras was equally bold. Rather than relying on the traditional visual language associated with 35mm crime films and film noir, Mann embraced digital photography to capture Los Angeles with an almost documentary-like immediacy. The image has a distinctive texture, particularly in the nighttime sequences, but it serves the story by making the city feel both beautiful and slightly alien. The digital format allows Mann to capture the ambient light of Los Angeles in a way that makes the city feel expansive even when the characters are confined inside a taxi.
The pacing is another major strength. Mann understands that tension doesn’t always require action. Silence can carry just as much weight as violence, and Collateral repeatedly alternates between the two. Long conversations inside the taxi create an uneasy intimacy between Max and Vincent before sudden bursts of danger shatter the calm. Mann also understands when to inject humor, allowing moments of levity to interrupt the tension without completely deflating it. Vincent’s first major act of violence, for instance, demonstrates how effectively the film can move from casual conversation to shocking brutality while maintaining the same rhythm.
Tom Cruise gives one of his best performances as Vincent. The beard, gray hair and short haircut initially obscure the movie star audiences were accustomed to seeing, but Cruise’s natural charisma remains underneath the surface. That is precisely what makes Vincent so unsettling. He can be charming because Cruise is inherently charismatic, but when that charm disappears, the character becomes genuinely menacing. Vincent isn’t frightening because he constantly behaves like a monster. He is frightening because he can appear completely ordinary while possessing an almost total lack of empathy. The performance also calls to mind Christian Bale’s famous comments about looking to Cruise while portraying Patrick Bateman in American Psycho. Both performances understand that the most disturbing version of a sociopath isn’t necessarily someone who looks dangerous, but someone who can blend effortlessly into the world around them.
Jamie Foxx provides the necessary counterbalance. His Max is not initially an obvious hero because much of his predicament could have been avoided if he had been more willing to assert himself earlier in his life. Foxx plays that passivity without making Max pathetic. There is intelligence underneath his hesitation, and Vincent recognizes it before Max fully does. Their conversations gradually force Max to confront the disconnect between the person he claims he wants to become and the choices he actually makes. His increasing willingness to challenge Vincent becomes the emotional foundation of the film because his transformation isn’t about suddenly becoming fearless. It is about finally understanding that he has to act.
The supporting cast is where Collateral becomes somewhat less developed than its two central performances. Mark Ruffalo brings credibility and urgency to Detective Ray Fanning, and his investigation provides an important perspective outside the taxi, but the subplot ultimately feels underwritten. The film spends enough time with Fanning to suggest that his role will become more significant than it ultimately does. Javier Bardem also makes an impression in a relatively brief appearance, demonstrating how effectively Mann can establish a character through only a handful of scenes. Still, the movie’s overwhelming focus on Max and Vincent means that much of the supporting material feels secondary.
The final act is another slight weakness. For much of its runtime, Collateral avoids conventional crime-thriller expectations by making the relationship between Max and Vincent the primary source of tension. As the story approaches its conclusion, however, it increasingly falls back on familiar cat-and-mouse conventions. The result isn’t ineffective, but it is less interesting than what came before. After spending so much time examining the psychological relationship between these two men, the finale feels somewhat more conventional than the rest of the movie.
Even with those shortcomings, Collateral has aged remarkably well. It may feel like a movie that came and went in 2004, but Mann’s visual experimentation, the chemistry between Cruise and Foxx and the film’s examination of agency give it considerably more staying power than its reputation might suggest. Beneath the sleek crime-thriller exterior is a story about two men who have surrendered themselves to very different forms of control. Vincent has chosen a life devoid of human connection, while Max has allowed fear and passivity to keep him from pursuing his own. Collateral ultimately suggests that freedom requires more than knowing what you want. Sometimes it requires the courage to finally choose it.