Review: Public Enemies

Don't let the Mann-erisms fool you; you're still watching a movie

More different than innovative, more of a retread than ambitious, Michael Mann's latest crime opus falls short of greatness and ends up wading in hazy mediocrity, with its inspired moments (and even more inspired performances) being drowned out in Mann's self-defeating proceduralism and perfectionism. Even more alarming, however, are Mann's uncharacteristic technical missteps: one, being the already much-discussed decision to shoot in digital, and two, the unfathomably bad—and I mean unfathomably—job of the sound department—composing, mixing, editing...nothing, it seems, was spared.

The story follows P.E. #1, John Dillinger (Johnny Depp), as he travels across the U.S. robbing banks and in search of "baseball, movies, good clothes, fast cars..." and a woman, found in whimsy but tough Billie Frechette (Marion Cotillard). Director Michael Mann's decision to shoot the 'period' piece in digital was controversial from the outset, and its consequences cannot go ignored. The problem with digital is not so much that it makes a period movie look bad, but that it makes almost any movie look bad. The woozy motion, the tacky zoom-ins, the odd-looking lighting (more distracting than realistic), it just takes the whole "movie magic" out of the equation, at least in my eyes.

And, is it just me or did someone forget to hire a composer? Wait, did they forget a sound editor too? What about a mixer? For someone as dedicated as Michael Mann to let this all-out catastrophe to happen is, well, unfathomable. The orchestral cues are more cornball and hammed up than their golden-age predecessors. Half the time we can't understand what Dillinger nor his lady friend (what was her name again?) are saying. And worst of all, is the use of stock, video game-quality effects for doors opening and closing in the prison scenes. I felt like I was playing Goldeneye again, or something. It was ridiculous beyond anything.

Where Enemies (actually, finally) succeeds is in its titular characters and the great performances behind them. Depp, for one, is serviceable and then some as Dillinger; his charisma carries him through the role. Christian Bale, once again (as in Terminator: Salvation) proves to be more effective in sharing the spotlight; his Melvin Purvis is cold, determined, lonely—it's almost as if the personas in Mann's Heat were swapped: Neil McCauley playing cop, and Vincent Hanna as criminal. Cotillard is awkward and only seems to look the part. Billy Crudup's Hoover reads his lines as if the movie was actually made in the thirties, and not just about them (a little ham never hurt anyone). Channing Tatum's cameo as Pretty Boy Floyd is a hoot—seriously one of the best moments of the film. Rory Cochrane and Stephen Dorff make intriguing faces for good and bad, respectively. As with most of Mann's films, the cast is a real joy.

But, above all and any, is Stephen Graham's flat-out invigorating take on Baby Face Nelson. Nothing short of terrifying, never has a character been so unhinged—a little of Baby Face goes a long way—almost too long, in fact, as I'm still scared of him sitting here writing this. He's all monster and no man. It's a character performance for the ages, just spectacular.

In the end, Mann puts the 'true' in true story, playing the film like a history channel documentary with its great sequences (Purvis's intro, Purvis and Dillinger's talk, Dillinger paying a visit to the police, a shootout) being washed away in a broader palette of blandness. Unfortunately, it seems that even the usually visually-lush Michael Mann has fallen to a post-new millennium bleakness. There was a reason Heat was titled such. Somebody's gotta turn up the heat.


** out of ****

~ Patrick Fryberger