"Heist"

In his screenplays for "The Postman Always Rings Twice," "We're No Angels" and "The Untouchables," Mamet has attempted to blow up old-movie clichés to the level of archetypes. "Heist" is awash in clichés: the aging crook looking to make one last score and get out; the hotshot newcomer who sends a gang's relationships into a tailspin; the femme fatale whose sexuality acts as a disruptive force; the carefully planned jobs that go suddenly wrong. But his dried-out approach strips the meat from their bones.

You can still watch movies like John Huston's "The Asphalt Jungle" or Stanley Kubrick's "The Killing" and, for all their genre familiarity, feel that there's something vital going on in them, that even the small, crooked dreams of the characters have some human meaning. (I can't imagine anyone watching Sterling Hayden deliver his last line in "The Killing" -- "What's the use?" -- and not feel as if they'd been kicked in the gut.) Cooks reduce stocks to concentrate their flavor; Mamet reduces motivation, characterization and the affection between his characters as if flavoring and color were an intrusion on his pipsqueak view.

Actors love Mamet (as they love Pinter) because the terse, ping-ponging dialogue is keyed into actors' rhythms. He's not, like Pinter, so vague that actors and audiences can read all sorts of meanings into the menacing, portentous atmosphere. Mamet writes to achieve a rhythm that can fool you into thinking you're seeing the characters open up and connect with each other. What's really going on is more like the exercises actors do in classes or rehearsals -- they toss the lines back and forth like riffs, establishing a tempo and then tossing each other variations.

It's a drag to watch most of the good actors in "Heist" forced into a gap where their personalities are canceled out. Sam Rockwell brings some scummy energy, and Ricky Jay (who provides the only warmth in the movie) gets off a line about why he doesn't like the Swiss that highlights Mamet's talent for loopy, obscene humor. It's somewhat fascinating to watch Gene Hackman. It's a crummy role, but in a way it tells you exactly why he's such a great actor. Hackman has always taken a low-key, lived-in approach to his roles, disappearing inside them. Faced with Mamet's minimalism, he does whatever he can to season the part, sometimes with no more than a smile or an inflection. He works overtime to flesh out his character.

"Heist" is the sort of minor picture that, a couple of hours later, can make you forget you've seen a movie. But there's something offensive about how Mamet continues to win praise as a serious filmmaker with such a joyless picture, a picture that -- intentionally -- gives the audience so little.

Especially if you've been lucky enough to see Richard Kelly's remarkable debut "Donnie Darko," which is currently struggling for its life on a few screens. "Donnie Darko" is flawed, but there's not a scene that doesn't communicate the 26-year-old Kelly's joy at working in movies, his desire to convey his vision, his willingness to go his own strange route and take audiences with him on the journey. He's a rarity, an avant-gardist who's also an inclusionist. He wants to reach an audience, and it's easy to look at "Donnie Darko" and think that one day he'll make great movies. Mamet isn't a hack, but in some ways he's worse. Hacks at least want to deliver the goods. Mamet dutifully works his pathetically narrow patch of dry land as if it were some sign of integrity. If his sensibility were any punier, you'd need a microscope to see it.

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