Review of Public Enemies (2009, Dir. Michael Mann)

Just as one would expect of a Michael Mann period piece, Public Enemies runs a little too long. With his latest venture, Mann delves into the cat and mouse of John Dillinger (Johnny Depp) and FBI Agent Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale), but the weightiness of the world surrounding Dillinger’s crime devours screen time and remains unimportant to the viewer.

The first act plays out as a collection of character introductions strung together by moments from the trailer. After throwing the audience right into the exciting jailbreak of the opening sequence, Mann slows the picture down to let us get a sense of how Dillinger and Purvis live – Dillinger in a high-class world of criminals and women and Purvis in a Hoover-dominated bureaucracy. The peripheral characters introduced here weaken the film most, though they remain critical in contextualizing Dillinger’s demise in the final act. Members of “The Syndicate” offer Dillinger their support, but are only distinguishable by their variance of facial hair. While these men play a critical role in his final setup, they engage the viewer’s interest only half as much as the meticulously crafted mis-en-scene.

Perhaps the grandest blight of the first act is Dillinger’s initial meeting with Billie (Marion Cotillard), soon to become the love of his life. Much like the romance of American Gangster (last year’s ‘villain is the hero’ mobster film), the love story here begins with the male protagonist noticing the female (with another man) from across a club. Once again, we see the Hollywood enforced notion of male competition and chivalry leading to ‘love.’ Yet, Billie and Dillinger do not talk much except for when she doubts him or pushes him away, despite his perpetual charm. Their intimate connections of this act are few and far between: a requisite sex act (complete with Billie telling her life story through voiceover…) and Dillinger presenting her with a fur coat (which is followed by another character walking away with two women and a gunfight). Simply put: love feels silly and out of place because a woman seems silly and out of place in this world of soulless men.

Act two kicks off right at the moment we can no longer endure pseudo-romance or new characters and Depp takes over the picture. Act two could be The Empire Strikes Back if Darth Vader had angular good looks and spoke with a 1930’s mobster accent: Dillinger consumes the audience with his charisma in the courtroom and escape sequence as Hoover and Purvis’ reactions to their own failure further excite the viewer.

Following his escape, Dillinger desperately tries to resurrect his pre-jail life much to the chagrin of the audience. With glitz, glamour and syndicate protection gone from Dillinger’s life, Mann moves the film into a raw and viscerally engaging showdown in the woods. As shots begin firing, Mann enters basic shot–reverse shot depictions of the firefight between the cops and robbers, avoiding the commonly seen chaotic and overwhelmingly dense cutting of handheld action shots. Instead, Mann delivers a beautifully constructed and edge-of-your seat action sequence that rivals any film: we feel the enormous slugs flying into trees and dry wall. Perhaps the most shining moment is Purvis riding the side a pursuant Ford exchanging Tommy gun rounds with Baby-Face Nelson. As if the sequence’s visceral engagement we not enough: Mann shot the scene on location at the original lodge where the gunfight took place.

After this singularly fantastic moment, Dillinger’s desperation in the final act telegraphs his demise as Billie and members of ‘The Syndicate’ reappear. Mann opposes the evilness of the FBI and sides with Dillinger’s longing for freedom, showing cowardice and malevolence with the ‘Fatso’ member of Pervis’ unit. Mann seems to take pride in the havoc caused by Dillinger and shuns the FBI’s interest in maintaining infrastructure and peace: the man who shot Dillinger delivers Billie a tearful message and the film ends with a title revealing Pervis committed suicide – directly correlating Dillinger’s demise with Pervis’ without evidence. This pseudo anarchism and adolescent notion of ‘freedom’ confuses the film’s message: Dillinger dies because the system within which he functions (‘The Syndicate’) no longer supports his crime. Mann asserts that a larger bureaucracy destroys Dillinger, but it is that same system that allowed him to thrive in the first place. That is, Mann seems to be saying: systems work until they don’t, then you need to be free in South America...

Essentially, the film opens with Dillinger and his gang in a shining moment. We then meet the characters that are the film’s downfall (boring Billie and syndicate members). But, jail once again frees Dillinger of these blights on the film for a brief but fabulous jaunt in the woods for some good ol’ fashioned badassery.

71/100