Michael Mann’s Public Enemies is a strangely distant, quasi-demythification of the tale of John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) and Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) that keeps threatening to turn into a truly fine movie without ever quite pulling it off. It’s an odd mix of obsessive historical accuracy and a lack thereof (the funereal arrangement of “Bye Bye Blackbird” that Diana Krall sings in the film is so not 1933). It’s a movie that wants to debunk the legend and have it, too. In short, it’s a film that finally comes across like it can’t make up its mind what it wants to be—even after wandering around for 140 minutes trying to figure it out.
Part of the problem may stem from the fact that the Dillinger story is simply so well known. In fact, I suspect that the less you know about old “Public Enemy Number One,” the more you’re apt to enjoy Mann’s film. The more you know, the more it starts to feel like Mann is working from a checklist of points that have to be covered—something that increases the likelihood that somewhere around the two-hour mark you’ll start wishing that Dillinger would go see Manhattan Melodrama (1934) already. At the same time, the less historically savvy are apt to not even get some of Mann’s legend corrections—like the fact that the notorious “lady in red” was actually the “lady in the white blouse and orange skirt,” a phrase that lacks the sexier punch of the newspaper-ese of “lady in red.”
Even so, the story of Dillinger—and his crossover with other mythologized gangsters of the early 1930s, such as Pretty Boy Floyd (Channing Tatum, Fighting), Alvin Karpis (Giovanni Ribisi, Cold Mountain) and Baby Face Nelson (Stephen Graham, Snatch)—is sufficiently intriguing to keep the film interesting. Also, delving into the “good guy” side, by placing nearly as much attention on Melvin Purvis and the rise of the FBI, sets the film apart from most gangster yarns, since the forces of law and order tend to get short shrift in such tales. That addition may not be entirely in the film’s favor dramatically, since, let’s face it, we’re here for the blazing tommy guns and the iconic gangsters—not the cops, who tend to be less interesting.
Thematically, however, the Purvis material is where Mann scores his best points. His depiction of the largely futile PR efforts of the FBI to turn their agents—notably Purvis—into good-guy versions of the icons the gangsters so effortlessly became is the movie’s most notable and relevant addition to the genre. That, unfortunately, doesn’t mean the movie has the wit to actually explore the concept, but that’s partly because the film just has too much in it, resulting in too much being sketched-in. You’re in trouble when your seriously intended portrayal of Baby Face Nelson is less persuasive and rounded than the comedic picture of the same character in the Coens’ O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000).
A bigger—perhaps the biggest—drawback to Public Enemies lies in its inability to make the viewer really care very much about any of the characters. Neither Dillinger nor Purvis are presented as particularly likable. Dillinger has a slight edge in that he gets a few clever lines and is played by the inherently likable and compelling Johnny Depp, but there’s still not much there. There’s even less to Purvis, and the film’s single attempt to humanize him comes too late in the proceedings to alter that. This is the problem with trying to view these larger-than-life characters dispassionately: You end up with a dispassionate movie.
Mann’s apparent inability to decide just how much of the myth’s baggage he wants to slough off is ultimately counterproductive to a striking degree. There’s simply no way to avoid wanting to guess at Dillinger’s reaction to the events depicted in the film Manhattan Melodrama, which he saw just prior to meeting his fate in 1934. Did he see himself in the gangster story? Did he see his own fate, or at least a romanticized version of it? Did he buy into that romanticized image? Mann can’t resist guessing, which pushes us back into myth, but he also bizarrely and deliberately omits the most famous and resonant line from Manhattan Melodrama in what he shows of the film: “If I can’t live the way I want, at least let me die when I want.” It’s as if Mann is trying to soft-pedal the myth, but can’t bring himself to quite let it go, which actually sums up the whole approach to Public Enemies. Rated R for gangster violence and some language.
Part of the problem may stem from the fact that the Dillinger story is simply so well known. In fact, I suspect that the less you know about old “Public Enemy Number One,” the more you’re apt to enjoy Mann’s film.
This is very true. I was rolling my eyes over the way the ending seemed to drag on for ‘dramatic effect’. I wanted to yell at the screen, “just shoot him already.”
Dillinger has a slight edge in that he gets a few clever lines and is played by the inherently likable and compelling Johnny Depp, but there’s still not much there.
I felt like Depp’s performance was very held back and subdued. I wanted a lot more of the eccentric, wise cracking Depp that we get in some of his other roles. Take “Once Upon a Time in Mexico” for example; if it wasn’t for his personality in that movie, he would’ve been nothing more that another borderline despicable character. In “Public Enemies” there needed to be more lines like in the jail confrontation scene, where Dillinger responds to Purvis’ question – “what keeps you up at night?” “Coffee.” That was one of the few quirky Johnny-esque moments that I can recall.
I think the problem probably ultimately lies in Michael Mann’s ‘serious’ directing. He’s just not a playful kind of director. Which might, in part, explain why the romance element in his films often feel so fake to me. I just have a hard time buying into the overcooked melodrama element of his movie’s love stories. At times, I felt like I was watching the same silly scripted romance from “Miami Vice” transpire in this movie.
To be fair, I felt like Mann did a superb job filming some of the action sequences. I particularly enjoyed to cabin scene and the jailbreak scene.
I wanted to yell at the screen, “just shoot him already.”
It just occurred to me after posting this comment that I may have just ruined a very important element of the movie for someone out there, and I want to apologize for not originally giving a *spoiler* warning beforehand.
That was one of the few quirky Johnny-esque moments that I can recall.
There was also the “I can’t think of a thing I want to do in Indiana” line, which was already used in the trailer. I suspect that what happened here was a desire to be just too damn “historically accurate” — possibly an admirable concept, but not a lot of fun, in this case.
He’s just not a playful kind of director. Which might, in part, explain why the romance element in his films often feel so fake to me. I just have a hard time buying into the overcooked melodrama element of his movie’s love stories
Mann seems uncomfortable with anything other than male bonding when it comes to relationships — or perhaps perfunctory or simplistic or even uninformed would be better. I am not suggesting anything of a subtext nature here (I know zip about Mann’s persona life), but more of an awkwardness of the George Lucas “Don’t-get-out-much-do-you?” school of romance.
It just occurred to me after posting this comment that I may have just ruined a very important element of the movie for someone out there, and I want to apologize for not originally giving a *spoiler* warning beforehand.
It seems unlikely that most people don’t know how this is going to play out — at least in broad strokes.