Boys and their guns in Mann’s ‘Public Enemies’

The aesthetic of “Public Enemies” presents the audience with a new method of digesting “historic” films and perhaps a new sense for biography films, where actions are just actions, the driving force of characters is as simple as enforcing vs. breaking the law and there are no attempts to delve into intricate and implicit psychological factors. Yet amidst all the gung ho gritty realism, there is that enticing nuance missing in Mann's film: the satisfaction of character development and the onscreen chemistry of its three main characters.

Johnny Depp is Dillinger, and one is almost surprised at the physical similarity between the actor and the real man. It is 1933, and we are introduced to Dillinger, escaping from prison with his gang of criminals. The suspense of this opening sequence is thrilling, as we breathe in the aura of a Dillinger who is diligent and efficient, harboring the kind of cold blood that is required of such a predisposition. But is that a twitch of emotion on his face as he must forsake one of his men?

Back in Chicago, he roams in his turf, plotting the next available heist and enjoying a grand time with his crew in the clubs of the city. When he lays eyes on the half-French half-Native American dame Billie Frachette (Marion Cotillard), he knows what he wants, and in one penetrative sentence he admits (more like gloats) to her and us what he's made of, “I like fast cars, fine suits, movies, baseball and you.” They dine, and she asks what he does for a living; the answer -- straight off the bat -- is “I rob banks.” And yes, in this film, that is all that Dillinger is; he is solely a criminal, and he pretends to be nothing else. That doesn't counter the fact that Depp emanates a bizarre charisma made of wit, charm and fine suits, but don't expect to find out anything about his inner workings other than the fact that he knows what a damn fine bank robber he is.

Dillinger might be a Robin Hood of sorts in the eyes of the destitute American masses, but the big boys in blue will not tolerate him. It is only the beginning of the formation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), and administrator J. Edgar Hoover (a buffed up Billy Crudup) is determined to bring public enemies like him down. Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale, continuing his ascetic, intimidating Bruce Wayne glare) is delegated as the head field officer to capture the infamous man. As we watch a nonstop cat and mouse game between Dillinger and Purvis, we are also introduced to the new methods of the FBI -- brain over brawn. But can the bright young officers handle the unsparing menace of Dillinger's kind?

Dillinger will be caught, and in his final moments of truth, as he watches a Clark Gable crime melodrama in Chicago's Biograph Theater, we will witness a beautifully tragic scene where he watches mesmerized, the downfall of Gable's screen character, perhaps intuiting his own. The sequence is lustrous, cut between Purvis waiting in front of the theater in anticipation and Dillinger enthralled throughout his first and last moment of vulnerability.

Mann's film does not deem it necessary to be bothered with any substantial plot; it is the momentum that counts and the extremely primal glamour and lust for the power of arms -- more specifically the hunt -- that pushes “Public Enemies” through its 140 minutes.

Following Depp with his two right men armored in their brilliantly designed hats, coats and rifles walking adamantly into a bank, Mann's camera flows effortlessly, caresses the scene and leaves hypnotizing images in our cerebral parts that we cannot possibly forget. The package is all geared up with the support of director of photography Dante Spinotti's lens and the production design of Nathan Crowley. But lo and behold, the style and visceral and raw satisfaction is there, but the meat of the film has gone adrift as we are still left wondering what kind of a man Dillinger really was, why his girl Billie ever waited for him since they didn't seem that much in love, why Purvis and Dillinger never gave us the pleasure of watching a well-written confrontational conversation and, most importantly, why we should care about Dillinger after getting only a few glimpses of his character. Well-tailored suits are fine, but underneath is just a criminal; where's the real man?