In 1934, John Dillinger was famously shot dead coming out of a gangster movie.
The movie in question was a Clark Gable picture called Manhattan Madness. Perhaps sensing the obvious irony, director Michael Mann's vision of Dillinger resembles Gable's smooth gentlemanly rep. Handsome and persuasive, romantic even when he's violent.
Johnny Depp's Dillinger is a far cry from the way Lawrence Tierney or Warren Oates portrayed him in previous films about America's most notorious bank robber. This time he's lovesick and mostly troubled by unnecessary violence, behaving more like a prince charming than a dangerous criminal. Hence the many scenes of him spewing schmaltzy pick-up lines to Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard), the gal who had the "honor" of calling herself Dillinger's girl. Elsewhere, a Napoleonic J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup), wanting to push his Federal Bureau of Investigations out of infancy, assigns his super-agent Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) to lead the Dillinger manhunt. One that would eventually end at a movie theater.
The film is so sympathetic towards Dillinger that it happily paints the FBI as a vicious and recklessly incompetent mob that would torture suspects, beat up women and never get anything done. This is troubling because it clearly wants to paint Purvis as a hero, yet aside from a quick gasp here and a remorseful brood there, Purvis is shockingly unaffected. Dillinger, on the other hand, gets some crybaby moments that, embodied by Depp's pretty mug, are supposed to tug women's heartstrings. It follows the trend of hoisting macho action scenes on effeminate men that Mann also applied in Miami Vice and Collateral.
This movie's downfall lies in how Mann seems to have fallen in love with John Dillinger, or at least Depp's portrayal of Dillinger, to the point of underselling the film's more interesting objective, which is visiting the "Public Enemy" era of American history, the era that coincided with the rise of the FBI. There are obvious traces of this, from the title itself to a scene likening the media adoration for both Dillinger and Purvis. The FBI stages photo-ops, while Dillinger likes to joke with the press; both side vying for public endorsement. But the film, strangely, doesn't seem interested in Dillinger's status as public enemy or folk hero, just his personal life and his daring exploits. Halfway into the movie, we see Dillinger transported by car, and Mann shows people lining up along the streets so they can wave to Dillinger as if it was a motorcade. However, before this, there's only one throwaway mention of him caring about the public's opinion, and afterwards, it's inconsequential. The film fails to capture why Dillinger is such a known figure, treating him as just a slippery criminal giving G-Men a hard time.
Mann abandons that side, thinking a Dillinger-worship would be more enchanting. It is unfortunately not the case. Especially not when it reduces enriching characters like Pretty-Boy Floyd, Baby Face Nelson, Frank Nitti, J. Edgar Hoover and even Melvin Purvis, among others, into cameos or one-dimensional historical shout-outs. When, at the end of the movie, the film throws out an on-screen text factoid that Purvis eventually quit the FBI and shot himself, it's almost humorously out of left field, because the film offers no insight into Purvis' personality. Yes, chalk this up to another round of Christian Bale roped in by lazy typecasting. Need an intensely stoic and obsessive or brooding hero? Turn on the Bale-signal. He will give you a perfectly operational but unmotivated performance.
The visuals are a sore point. Michael Mann is a supporter of digital filmmaking, and good for him for that because it is, like it or not, going to become the new standard. But for some unfathomable reason, Mann prefers his shots looking as "digital" as possible, like a home video footage. He makes it even more apparent with the liberal use of jerky handheld motions even in static dialogue scenes. Certain shots look like Cloverfield with period costumes. That's just weird, and so jarring that it often distracts from the scene. The only time the style works to the film's advantage is during a nighttime shootout. The sharper look gives nozzle flares from tommy guns a distinct burst. When edited well, it really boosts up the intensity of the action scenes. There's also the electric-cool score by Elliot Goldenthal, giving the film a near-western feel. Fitting, given its taste for big gun battles.
Public Enemies is extraordinarily researched (thanks to the non-fiction book it's based on by Bryan Burrough) and also meticulously executed, with Mann shooting much of it in actual historical locations around Wisconsin—but it's a cold, cold film. It has no high or low points, just assured moment-to-moment progression, mirroring Dillinger's own crime spree. No goals, no trajectory, and not much thought; he was all about the next heist. He robs, he romances, he fights, he goes to jail, he escapes, and he starts over again. And then he's dead. And the movie ends. Thank you for the timeline, but where's the drama?
"Public Enemies" opens July 1, 2009 and is rated R. Action, Crime-Thriller. Directed by Michael Mann. Written by Ronan Bennett and Michael Mann & Ann Biderman (screenplay), Bryan Burrough (book). Starring Billy Crudup, Christian Bale, Giovanni Ribisi, Johnny Depp, Marion Cotillard, Stephen Dorff, Stephen Graham.
