The Heist, 2002. Directed by Jerome Tanner.
Starring Hannah Harper, Summer Storm, Belladonna and Brittney Skye.
Timeless classics seem to be applicable to any generation or instance in history. Maybe this is what makes them so enduring. Shakespeare outlived his contemporaries through prototypical plots, just as Citizen Kane will continue to live on through its eternal portrayal of frailty and greed. Others works, however, need time to be good to them. These are the rediscovered films that go unnoticed during their time of conception, yet finally find their existence far in the future when an event or social mood bestows a clarity of meaning upon it. This is true of our current socio-economic climate, and a fine piece of pornography entitled The Heist…
…The Heist tells of Hannah Harper’s addiction to male sperm, a dependence so great that her escapades land her in prison (for [easily] raping a fireman). Once in prison she meets likeminded inmates – Belladonna, Brittney Skye and Summer Storm - where they plan a bank heist for when all are released. But what good would money do our heroines? None - they plan to hold up a sperm bank. The heist goes perfectly. They escape into the sunset, ecstatically downing cum vials, as their unexplained getaway driver pleasures himself happily into the glove compartment.
It is this sort of shamelessness that litters the film – a simultaneous glorification of excess and critique of its pitfalls. These are women with incurable greed, and we are the ones to suffer from it. In the film’s climatic scene (the actual sperm bank heist) the punters’ current source of income (their sperm) is stolen from them. We are the punters, and after the initial confusion/awkwardness over what has just happened, one almost feels anger towards the girls. After all, they used us only for their personal gain. We are left there emotionally and physically empty.
But this undiluted blame is surely born from irrationality. Did it never occur to us that the situation would turn out any different? Did one not consider that a relationship based on gluttony and hedonism could never last? It is impossible to solely blame that gang of vixens for what has happened to us. No one ever complained when they were on top. No one ever genuinely said “Stop!”, and no one ever gave a thought to what would be done if it ever did.
Although the girls’ lack of remorse lingers after the film’s end, it is the knowing that we did nothing to change our own greed that truly turns one’s tongue salty. For in the recession, just like the cast of The Heist, we’re all fucked.
Oli Davis
365 Days, 100 Films
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