Ten Years Later — Man on Fire, Body Politics of Fear and Protection

In Tony Scott’s second of four films with Denzel Washington, he explores the body through the politics of safety. A note at the beginning of the film informs us that “There is one kidnapping every 60 seconds in Latin America.” 70% of the victims do not survive. This is predominately true in Juarez, Mexico, a city that has been declared the most violent in the world.

Ironically, Juarez is located right across the border from El Paso, Texas, one of the safest cities in North America. Regardless, those who can afford protection in the form of body guards happily pay for them. And this is where Man on Fire makes its mark. Washington plays Johyn Creasy – not to be mispronounced as “Crazy” – former assassin, now alcoholic who can’t hold down a job. His peripatetic lifestyle takes him all over Mexico, but he finds himself drawn back to into a connection with Paul Rayburn (Christopher Walken), a man whose luxury and excess in the middle of Juarez bespeak a blaring undertone of corruption.

The job that Rayburn offers is as a body guard to the Ramos family (Marc Anthony; Radha Mitchell) and their young daughter, Lupita (Dakota Fanning). This scene is juxtaposed with a well-suited-up, cigar-smoking Mickey Rourke peddling the importance of security to Mr. Ramos, coercing him into purchasing additional protection for peace of mind, to keep his wife happy, and because his current policy will soon expire. The sentiment offered by a none shortly hereafter that it is regrettable that a position like Creasy’s exists is poignant, but it simultaneously explains why it exists. Or rather, it explains the source of violence: man’s indifference to man.

Despite the kidnapping and the violence that riddles Juarez and Man on Fire, the darker aspect of the film is its illustration of isolation. Most often, this stems from distrust and the temporality of relationships. Lupita wants only to have a friend. We sense this in each scene, but it’s also unnecessarily exposited by her mother. And because she’s locked either in her house or in her school for much of the day, she’s relegated to find friendship in the form of her body guard, a man whose only incentive for being around Lupita is a paycheck.

Despite the connection that ultimately forms between Creasy and Lupita, there’s a sadness that the two must be forced together in a system of supply and demand, or that her parents keep her in this situation for the sake of maintaining a fortune. In this situation, financial status trumps the importance of protection that the parents proclaim that they seek.

As a young actress, Fanning was more adult than most. She has a presence on screen that defies the cuteness associated with youth. Her eyes are focused and she appears always in thought. On the one hand, this places her too often in the role of explicator, prompting personal information from Creasy or providing information about the kidnapping rate in Juarez. At the same time, we see that the child cannot always be protected, despite her parents’ fortune or their best attempts. Lupita is aware that she is in constant danger, and with her knowledge of the ever-changing body guards, it’s clear that she understands that their presence does not necessarily equal her safety.

She, like Creasy, exists in the same isolated world of torment and danger.