Public Enemies

Michael Mann's films are always very stylish affairs although his control freak attention to detail sometimes crushes the life out of the narrative. Much as I enjoyed Public Enemies, there's something curiously unsatisfying about it. The film looks astonishing, and with the handheld HD camera, it feels disconcertingly as though the audience has stepped right into the middle of Depression-era America. We get a pair of bank robberies, a couple of prison breaks but Dillinger's career and subsequent reputation suffer from underdevelopment. The set pieces provide glimpses of how the legend came into being but an awful lot has to be taken on trust. It's one of those occasions where I actually wouldn't have minded a film being longer.
Both of the escapes are brilliantly constructed, especially the second, with the viewer following every step of the ingenious yet blindingly simple breakout. The robberies meanwhile highlight how even the talented have to depend on their partners. His trusted gang (post-escape) execute a heist with few problems. By the time of the second bank raid though, most of that first gang are either dead or in jail and Dillinger is forced to break one of his cardinal rules by working with people he doesn't know. In this case, it's the psychotic Baby Face Nelson and events go from bad to worse, culminating with one of Mann's trademark shootouts in the woods.
Likewise, Dillinger's professional calm, maintained under the most trying circumstances, actually comes closest to cracking - and costing him his life - when his only remaining ally, his girlfriend, is arrested. He instinctively gets out of his car, but even though he's in full view, gun in hand, the police fail to notice. This echoes an earlier scene when Dillinger and his gang are in a packed cinema. Mug shots appear on the screen and a voice exhorts the audience to look out for these men. The gang shift nervously but noone recognizes the famous criminals in their midst. Similarly, late in the film Dillinger wanders into a mostly-deserted police station, looking at the boards covered with material about him. The mug shots reveal that his trusted gang are now all dead, and despite his bravado, his fate is already sealed.
In a film of terrific set pieces, the ending is a wonderful piece of editing. For the final time, Dillinger walks through a crowd, unrecognized, but also unaware of the FBI agents closing in all around him. There's no chance of going out in a blaze of glory (or even self-defence). Purvis might have won, but it's Dillinger who still attracts the crowds, gathered around his corpse. There's indications of why he was such a fascinating figure but not quite enough.