PUBLIC ENEMIES review
Michael Mann returns to (true) crime with the sprawling thirties period piece [i]Public Enemies[/i], dealing with the life and death of John Dillinger in another of the epic crime dramas that have won the veteran director so many fans. If you already know how the legendary bank robber met his end – or you don't mind finding out – find out how Mann attempts to make the story his own after the break.
There is a fine art involved in putting together a film where either the well-informed viewer already knows, or for dramatic purposes it is plainly foreshadowed, that one or more of the leads are not going to make it to the credits. It's not the destination, it's the journey, they say; you need to make your audience care whatever happened, happened; make them ask why, or how. Sometimes it's the actors involved who manage this, sometimes the script. If the story deals with a person or persons who actually existed in some shape or form, perhaps it's their story – whatever people heard or read somewhere before walking into the theatre.
So why is Michael Mann's [i]Public Enemies[/i] such a disappointment?
The film tells the story of the final years of John Dillinger (as played by Johnny Depp) – the bank robber-cum-national hero who for several years remained one of the most wanted men in the United States during the 'golden age of crime' in the early 1930s. Returning to the myth-making that informed [i]Miami Vice[/i] (2005) or [i]Heat[/i] (1995), [i]Public Enemies[/i] adapts the book of the same title by Brian Burroughs. The book takes the reader through the key events of Dillinger's later life and times, placing this in context against the background of the Great Depression, the rise of organised crime, the formation of the FBI and the manhunt set up to catch Dillinger which culminated in his death.
On paper it seems like a project Mann could sleepwalk through, in the best possible sense. In the tradition of numerous crime dramas over the years, procedurals and action films both, he sets up two opposing sides; Depp's Dillinger, his assorted confederates and hangers-on, and the forces of law and order seeking to bring him in 'dead... or dead'; primarily FBI director J Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup, sans [i]Watchmen[/i]'s blue CG makeup) and his trusted lieutenant Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale). As the FBI struggle to make headway against criminals far more experienced, dedicated and ruthless than most of their new recruits Dillinger flits across the country, robbing banks wherever he pleases, briefly stopping off to romance coat-check girl Billie Frechette (Marion Cottilard, [i]La Vie En Rose[/i]) and sweep her up into his whirlwind orbit.
Mann arguably left his mark on cinematic history with the cat-and-mouse character dynamics between Al Pacino's tightly-wound police detective and Robert DeNiro's calmly philosophical master thief in [i]Heat[/i]. We knew chances were high one man would be dead by the time their two and a half hours were up, yet the veteran director never let this seem like a deficit, throwing twist after set-piece after side-story at us so there always seemed to be a chance what ultimately happened might not be about to. While it's laudable Mann evidently wanted more out of [i]Public Enemies[/i] than that very same lengthy chase kitted out in sharp suits and Thompson sub-machine-guns, his latest film tries to take in so much in comparison it never really finds a focal point. It is an action film, a history lesson, a jailbreak (two), a heist (several, in fact), a nod to the mob, a doomed romance... and it suffers as a result. The script never really succeeds in making these anything other than jarringly disparate parts; one minute Bale is all business, he and his fellow G-men preparing an assault on one of Dillinger's safehouses; the next he's trying for grimly sardonic, baiting Dillinger from outside his prison cell; then he's playing sensitive, wounded, torn apart when a comrade is savagely gunned down in the line of duty; then he's left struggling to deal with his responsibilities as the figurehead of the government's war on crime.
It's difficult to puzzle out precisely why it is the film doesn't gel – the editing? Particular members of the cast? Or perhaps before all that, the idea that few if any of the different plot strands really say anything particularly interesting? Other than a few laconic wisecracks from Dillinger the film feels depressingly unmemorable – no-one stands out as [b]bad[/b] per se, but most of the actors either struggle to make something of their limited parts (Crudup with a pitch-perfect Pathe News accent, Bale with the moments his steely facade cracks) or retreat into anonymity. Depp's Dillinger comes frustratingly close to the latter; the star adopts a laid-back persona so wry and reserved for the most part, it comes across as vastly incongruous when he's actually asked to cry. His role works neither as a folk hero nor a showman, lacking the backstory or fine detail to ground him or the flair to make him superhuman.
The only person who truly stands out is Marion Cotillard, and yet Mann never seems particularly interested in doing much with her beyond the obvious. It is a credit to the actress she makes so much of her part regardless – much of her screen time with Depp is a joy to watch. Billie Frechette knows Dillinger's a fool, seemingly more than Mann wants to admit; she's scared of him, fed up with him but she loves him all the same. Marion Cotillard makes the relationship both plausible and much more than a throwaway plot tangent, and Depp visibly livens up whenever he's playing off her – but the romance is, of course, long out of the window before the climactic ambush, and all the swelling strings and slow-motion tracking shots in the world can't hide a nagging feeling of frustration with the rest of the film. It is telling the brief coda just before the credits visits Billie one more time, as if Mann realised his story was somewhat empty without her.
The director's developing fascination with his own brand of [i]cinema verite[/i] also proves his undoing in some respects. [i]Public Enemies[/i] continues Mann's love affair with the digital camera that began with [i]Collateral[/i] (2004), pushing further into high-definition closeups, points of view, deep focus and shaky framing shots. The results are mixed; while there are plenty of aesthetic flourishes and a broad range of camera techniques, like the acting and narrative the visuals never quite come together. Cold exterior shots which previously seemed in keeping with the director's urban settings are far less successful here, and the general emphasis on the intimate (handheld cameras following closer than ever before) along with an interior colour palette close to a television broadcast makes several sequences seem shockingly cheap. Lighting levels may have been a conscious attempt to add a further touch of realism, but the (almost totally) pitch-black night scenes still feel frequently frustrating as much as anything else. The audio also suffers from puzzling technical decisions, with entire lines of dialogue mumbled so quietly they're frequently rendered inaudible.
Overall, it is some way above average – Mann has long since established himself as a director whose second-string projects are generally still worth investigating – but [i]Public Enemies[/i] struggles to make any lasting impression. It feels like pieces of a dozen different films snipped out and glued back together at random, with a cast who no longer understand what they're supposed to be doing. With everything it tries, it manages to do something that impresses, but none of it really hits home as much as it seems it ought to. You've seen it done before, and better – better shoot-outs, better character development, better exposition, better use of technology. The harshest criticism of [i]Public Enemies[/i], yet probably the most significant, is that in the end it feels rather superfluous. And coming from Michael Mann, that can't help but be a disappointment.
