Body Heat movie review & film summary (1981)

In “Body Heat,” Kasdan's original screenplay surrounds the characters with good, well-written performances in supporting roles; he creates a real world of police stations, diners, law offices and restaurants, away from which Matty has seduced Ned into her own twisted scenario. The best supporting work in the movie is by Mickey Rourke, in his breakthrough role, as Ned's friend, a professional arsonist. Richard Crenna is Matty's husband. “He's small, and mean, and weak,” she tells Ned, but when we see him he is not small or weak. Ted Danson and J.A. Preston are a D.A. and a cop, Ned's friends, who are drawn reluctantly into suspecting him of murder (Danson's sense of timing and nuance are perfect in a night scene where he essentially briefs his friend Ned on the case against him).

“Kasdan has modern characters talking jive talk as if they'd been boning up on Chandler novels,” Kael wrote, “and he doesn't seem to know if he wants laughs or not.” But isn't it almost essential for noir characters to talk in a certain heightened style, and isn't it possible for us to smile in recognition? On the night they first make love, Ned tells Matty, “Maybe you shouldn't dress like that.” She says, “This is a blouse and skirt. I don't know what you're talking about.” And he says, “You shouldn't wear that body.” Chandleresque? Yes. Works in this movie? Yes.

And there is some dialogue that unblinkingly confronts the enormity of the crime that Ned and Matty are contemplating. In many movies, the killers use self-justification and rationalization to talk themselves into murder. There is a chilling scene in “Body Heat” where Ned flatly tells Matty: “That man is gonna die for no reason but . . . we want him to.”

The plot and its double-crosses are of course part of the pleasure, although watching the film again last night, aware of its secrets, I found the final payoff less rewarding than the diabolical setup. The closing scenes are obligatory (and the final beach scene is perfunctory and unconvincing). The last scene that works as drama is the one where Ned suggests to Matty that she go get the glasses in the boathouse, and then she pauses on the lawn to tell him, “Ned, whatever you think--I really do love you.”

Does she? That's what makes the movie so intriguing. Does he love her, for that matter? Or is he swept away by sexual intoxication--body heat? You watch the movie the first time from his point of view, and the second time from hers. Every scene plays two ways. “Body Heat” is good enough to make film noir play like we hadn't seen it before.

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