Rating: 3 Pulses
Johnny Depp, Christian Bale,
Marion Cotillard
Directed by Michael Mann
Rated R
Public Enemies is a new film that tips its fedora to mob movies of old. Director Michael Mann (Heat, Miami Vice) eschews flashy effects and editing for scenic ’30s set-pieces and authentic cars and garb. Adapted from Bryan Burrough’s book of the same name, Public Enemies is conversely an observer of the cult of celebrity and a willing participant in the worship of characters too thinly drawn to warrant either.
Though Mann’s cinematic eye is sharp, creating an often striking mise en scene, the script (honed by Mann and two co-writers) is eager to present John Dillinger (Depp) as the mysterious smooth-talker whose witticisms prove to be meaningless double talk rather than inspired wisdom. Add to that the unnecessary inclusion of every two-bit hoodlum and gangster to cross Dillinger’s path and Mann and Co. are left with very little room to add any real characterization to this character study.
Dillinger’s nemesis is the stone-faced FBI agent Melvin Purvis (Bale as another non-emotive crime fighter) hired on as head of the Dillinger Department by J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup). The film stops short of revealing any motivating forces behind Hoover’s and Purvis’ drive to stop Dillinger beyond their being on the right side of the law. They just ARE the “good guys” in the same way that the Dillinger gang just ARE the “bad guys.” Similarly shallow is Dillinger’s courting of the dark and doe-eyed Billie Freschette (Marion Cotillard, giving the best performance in Enemies), the depth of whose relationship can be likened to the sheltered girl falling for the rebel on a motorcycle. Their sudden undying love has no foundation on which I can build any desire to give a spit.
Mixed in the muddle of elements in Public Enemies?the myriad characters, extravagant sets, stark depictions of violence?are barely-there themes on the nature of good vs. evil, society vs. the individual, etc., buried beneath Depp’s capable depiction of Dillinger, but Mann’s compulsion to cover everything broadly and nothing deeply is sure to keep the rabid scholar at bay.
Ultimately, Mann has skillfully made a film filled with good-enough performances in the style of Scorcese or Coppola without the substance of either. Despite its appearance, I guess that makes it the perfect summer flick.
