In the end at the end: The final sequences of Heat and Road to Perdition

My talk compares the endings of Michael Mann's Heat (1995) and Sam Mendes' Road to Perdition (2002). Integrating elements of film noir and classic crime-repertoire both are centered around a hunt coming to an end at the end. I aim at showing, that by focusing on both films' finals two different accounts on how New Hollywood deals with traditional genres and narratives will reveal: While the ending of Heat allows for scepticism regarding the necessity of how the story is told, Mendes renders it as a metafictional reflection on the film itself by switching from using a film to tell a story heading to a certain end to displaying the film as a medium of our perception. Heat concentrates in a final gunfight between detective Hanna and bankrobber McCauley the antagonistic constellation generating the drive for the whole plot, but leaves the framework of the film as an non-mediated impression of reality intact. There is a double layer opening up at the end, but only within the ficticious narrative: It is only by chance of a sudden signal light that enables Hanna to take victory over McCauley. In contrast to current interpretations I argue that the result of the hunt is open until the last second. The final scene emphasizes on how the hunt-narrative could have easily seen a different ending. Contingency is hidden within the prima facie straight story. Road to Perdition sets out to suspend the impression of reality by dissolving the world of crime and murder Michael Sullivan has brought is son into into a view of a peaceful beach as a world accesible again for his son, but strictly separated from him. The window through which Sullivan is observing his son at the end opens up a second layer of the film: at the end of the story we realize that a road to perdition could not have happened any different, but are also pointed at the illusionistic character of the whole world it happend in: When we consider the analogy between looking at the beach through a window and watching a film projected on screen, it is suggested we put ourselves into the place of Sullivan. Like Sullivan we are engaged and distanced from what we can see as projected reality. His murder and his will to protect his son remind us of the intrinsic limitations of cinematographic immersion.