The Insider film review

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THE INSIDER

While there may well be no smoke without fire, it now appears there's no Heat without smoke. Or something like that, anyway.

Reuniting with Michael Mann - his director on the crackling 1995 actioner - Al Pacino is Lowell Bergman, fiery, driven investigative journo-producer for American telly network CBS's flagship current affairs prog 60 Minutes.

Getting wind of a landmark story concerning the multi-billion dollar cigarette industry, Bergman follows a tricky paper trail to Jeffrey Wigand (Russell Crowe), the ultimate insider. Wigand had, up to recently, been in the employ of tobacco giants Brown & Williamson as a scientist - head of research and development.

And Wigand may have proof that his company not only knew about the addictive and life-threatening effects of nicotine way back, but took steps to cover up the knowledge and, on occasion, bluntly lied about it. If he's prepared to testify, and Bergman can get the story to air, the ensuing fallout will likely shake the industry to its very foundations.

Now when you've got Pacino and De Niro squaring up in Heat, the grandmother of all slow-burning cat-and-mousers - a rattling good cops-n'-robbers yarn frequently exploding into teeth-jarring showdowns - an epic, highly cinematic urban thriller is, perhaps, the logical outcome.

To achieve the same result with the real-life and largely verbal story of two men confronting two mighty corporations (and their own personal fears) in a battle to let the truth be told, is a measure of Michael Mann's sheer, directorly class.

The antidote to every lame, liberty-taking, based-on-a-true-story turkey you've been forced to endure, this is fascinating, compelling, staggering stuff - cinema, frankly, with a real cutting edge. And for playing a man some twenty years older (and forty pounds flabbier) with absolute, nerve-shredding conviction, Russell Crowe is outstanding.

Our advice: to appreciate the full power of this performance, re-view his rendition of Bud White in LA Confidential (another Oscar-winning pic) and then witness his transformation into Jeffrey Wigand.

With Pacino, of course, you get what we've come to expect: flashing eyes, flashing dentistry, a coupla barnstormingly shouty rants - trademark stuff. But alongside all that, Pacino's trademarks include a dedication to his craft rarely matched by any other actor. That burning intensity and sheer, watchable presence is functioning at full speed here.