RED HEAT: A Bunch of Laughs and a Real 80s Guilty Pleasure

The two world-shaking giants increasingly started clashing on the big screen – and not only in the propaganda-laden, muscle-bound and testosterone-driven ventures like the second and third parts of Rambo or Rocky IV, but also in a purely comedic manner, usually reduced to red comrades stumbling (un)steadily on American soil. Thus, the decades-long uncomfortable conflict became another money-making machine. A good representative of this trend is Walter Hill’s film, Red Heat which is almost forty years old.

Already in the opening scene – just after the traditional play with Soviet motifs under the opening credits and to the tune of Sergey Prokofiev’s classical music – Arnold Schwarzenegger flashes his bare backside, then turns a Moscow bathhouse into ruins. Later, in the style of Greta Garbo in Ninotchka, he speaks Russian and mangles his accent, maintaining a stone face and mechanical movements of the Terminator. His Ivan Danko – an officer of the law enforcement – is an exaggerated, comic-book type with distinctly Aryan facial features who, apparently, got lost beyond the eastern border. But somehow, we buy it. Especially when later – after a visit to the Yankees, where he hides a drug lord with an assaulting face played by Ed O’Ross – he clashes with James Belushi as Art Ridzik (sic!), who does what he usually does, trying to look cool, clowning, and systematically throwing sharp retorts at his muscular colleague. It’s not hard to guess that Arnie has better comebacks up his sleeve. What is remarkable, however, is that all of them have withstood the test of time and political changes – and this is surely due in large part to the script by Troy Kennedy-Martin (famous for the TV series Edge of Darkness), who worked on it alongside Hill and four other (!!!) colleagues.

Moreover, considering the fact that the script was constantly being rewritten even during filming, the entire production holds up remarkably well. Of course, the story is as improbable as they come, and its finale is so absurd that… It’s simply absurd and jumps the shark more than once. Ironically, this close-to-parody convention – which so strongly resembles Hill’s earlier works in the buddy/action genre – remains surprisingly serious. Occasional word-situation jokes, as well as very sharp jabs at both cultures living under starry flags, periodically relax the tension. And the shootouts and numerous fistfights are accompanied by almost cartoonish sound effects, which automatically put a grin on one’s face and, as a result, create the right distance toward the on-screen reality and its heroes. Yet the investigation itself and almost all side plots are, as Americans would say, dead serious.

The not overly complicated but sufficiently engaging intrigue introduces us to a world of crime that has hands and feet – complete with all the usual trappings, including dialogues in foreign (here: hostile) languages, with mandatory subtitles. Some of the directorial ideas for portraying the underworld even have ambitions worthy of The French Connection, even if they are ultimately not fully utilized, disappearing like another gangster. Blood flows, breasts occasionally shine in full splendor, and curses fall as thickly as bodies – in this respect, the film certainly earned its R rating (though it’s still far from the best achievements of the Austrian bodybuilder in this regard). And no one fools anyone into thinking that the real world is different, more beautiful, or more noble.

In addition, almost everyone, apart from the cardboard-cutout – or rather: steel – Arnie and the nice guy Belushi, has emotions so strongly written on their concerned faces that their engagement is worthy of an Oscar-level endeavor. Peter Boyle, the still-young Laurence Fishburne, the beautiful Gina Gershon, or even familiar faces of second-tier villains like the late Brion James and Pruitt Taylor Vince – each of them represents a walking stereotype and a ready set of characteristics for a B-class thriller. Yet they all have dramatic determination, street credibility, and can behave and speak like real people. They are honestly genuine in their artificiality.

Incidentally, it is worth noting that with equally exaggerated zeal, work on the set was carried out. Mr. Universe spent three months learning Russian, even though over the course of a hundred and forty minutes, he only speaks a few uncomplicated sentences in that language. His American co-star worked for two weeks at a real police station to prepare for a role that ultimately boils down to the standard big-screen cop image – the one who jokes and disregards orders from superiors. However, no matter how it was, Hill deserves credit for (once again) managing to skillfully combine all the conflicting elements into an attractive, coherent, and consistently atmospheric spectacle, which goes down in a truly Russian manner – without chasers or snacks. All at once. Then again for the second round.

Interestingly, the production by Mario Kassar and Andrew G. Vajna – the legendary duo from the Carolco studio, which was churning out hit after hit (or making classic VHS after classic VHS) in that era – is not especially spectacular, almost intimate. Filmed on streets in Hungary and Austria pretending to be Moscow and in native Chicago, the film doesn’t stand out technically. It doesn’t blow you away visually (though cinematographer Matthew F. Leonetti certainly didn’t slack off), nor in the audio department (composer James Horner repeats not only Prokofiev’s themes but also his own from 48 Hours or the also USSR-set Gorky Park), nor especially in terms of destruction and general spectacle. It’s definitely closer to the restrained Raw Deal than to the boundaryless Commando. Perhaps that’s why the embarrassing finale of the Red Heat with two buses and tons of steam seems so absurd in the context of the slightly absurd whole, giving it the general feeling of yet another guilty pleasure from a bygone era.

Perhaps this is also why the action movie, now almost four decades old, holds up better today than logic would suggest. Notably, when it was released, the audience reacted with mixed feelings, making Schwarzenegger earn more on the purely comedic Twins. Almost thirty million dollars in budget – of which eight went to the main star – only returned to the creators over time, through secondary circulation and indestructible video cassettes, where Red Heat looked a bit more impressive. And it had much more charm than that later, “Christmas” one, where Arnie made a fool of himself in a different way. It should be noted, however, that Walter Hill’s work was cut just before distribution and lost several important scenes, meaning its pacing does not quite align with its content. But who cares! The important thing is that it’s not boring.

Red Heat – also known worldwide under the titles Inferno Vermelho, Danko, and… Red Bull – did not fall apart like the Soviet Union. Its solid quality is evidenced by the fact that despite all its stupidity, shallowness, lack of specific style, or really memorable scenes, and a bunch of other shortcomings, the one thing that stands out the most here is the scene with Arnold flying through the streets of Chicago in a full Soviet police officer’s outfit and a huge winter hat. But, as Osgood Fielding III said in Some Like It Hot: nobody’s perfect…

And for dessert, a few Red Heat trivia:

– A few shots on Red Square were made guerrilla-style because the Americans were not allowed to film there.

– Schwarzenegger’s weapon is called Podbyrin and has a 9.2 mm caliber. However, you won’t find it in stores, as the creators made up the brand, and the pistol was created by modifying a Desert Eagle Magnum.

– The film is dedicated to stunt coordinator Benny E. Dobbins, who had a heart attack during the preparation of one of the scenes.