9/3/2010 12:52:00 AM

8/30/2010 3:16:00 PM

8/29/2010 11:07:00 PM

8/26/2010 4:32:00 AM

8/26/2010 4:24:00 AM

8/23/2010 6:17:00 PM

8/23/2010 4:52:00 PM

8/18/2010 5:04:00 PM

8/16/2010 5:12:00 PM

5/20/2010 2:43:00 AM

OBSERVE AND REPORT (2009)
When it was first revealed that Seth Rogen would be playing a mall security guard with delusions of grandeur, certainly nobody expected a dark, disturving film. We expected Paul Blart: Mall Cop, but what we got was a movie that wouldn't be out of place in the Paul Schrader filmography. That it has the audacity to be a comedy only makes it that much more unsettling. We're not supposed to find characters like this funny. He is childlike and sweet, yet ready to violently boil over at any moment. These unexpected bursts of brutality keep us on the edge of our seats, producing laughter that is more nervous than joyful.

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3/3/2010 5:22:00 AM

The Browning Version (1951)
What a noble profession teaching can be. The shaping of young minds is viewed by many to be the most important job a person can have. And yet not all teachers can be Mr. Holland or Mr. Keating, can they? In fact, for every truly inspirational teacher, there are a several strict disciplinarians; instructors whose firm hand has choked the life out of their pupils. Andrew Crocker-Harris is just such a teacher, whose career has come to an end. Played by Michael Redgrave as a man deflated by years of academic bureaucracy and a loveless marriage, Crocker-Harris feels as if he has made absolutely no difference in the lives of his students. It's the basic crisis of many teachers in film (Mr. Holland's Opus being a prime example), but the difference here is that he happens to be right. As Crocker-Harris comes to terms with what he views as a wasted life, we are left with a heartbreaking portrait of a sadness and regret.

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2/6/2010 5:23:00 AM

So, I finally got around to watching Up and I liked it. It's a good movie.

But it's far from perfect, which should be fine, except that no one mentions it. I'm afraid we've all bought into our own assertion that Pixar can do no wrong to the point that we're embarrassed to admit to any flaws at all. Maybe we film nerds need to get in a circle, support group style, and take that first step together, admitting that we have a problem. Wall-E was great but, come on. Wasn't the satire a tad juvenile and on-the-nose? Ratatouille was wonderful, but really? You can manipulate a person's body by pulling on his hair?

I found myself having the same problem while watching Up. Yes, this is a moving, intelligent and very mature story of a man dealing with his wife's death and the feelings that's brought up in him, not just grief but guilt and self-pity. But there are occasional flights of fancy wherein I found myself watching some movie I was not watching a few minutes before. These moments were well-executed but their somewhat jarring inclusion prevent the film from true greatness. And that's okay. Few movies are truly great. The fact that Up comes as close as it does is more than commendable. Can we please just stop pretending that every Pixar film is a masterpiece?

Speaking of masterpieces, there have been, in my opinion, two of them produced by the studio: Finding Nemo and The Incredibles. Two masterpieces in the same decade is a pretty stellar track record. My advice is that we be happy for that and evaluate all future Pixar films on a case by case basis. Otherwise, when they inevitably slip up, we'll all look like Buzz Lightyear insisting, against all reason, that he can fly.

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1/5/2010 5:25:00 AM

Nicholas Nickleby (2002)
In high school, I thought I was too cool for Charles Dickens. I thought his sprawling narratives with innumerable characters and outlandish coincidences were nothing more than soap operas in fancy clothes. Luckily, in the decade since then, there have been intelligent filmmakers to interpret his stories in ways that make me realize I was a fool. Though Dickens' plotting lends itself to melodrama, his stories are actually about the voluntary and involuntary ways that people interact with each other within the structure of a society. The recent "Little Dorritt" miniseries was only the latest filmed evidence of this. The first one I encountered, though, after my smug high school days, was Douglas McGrath's Nicholas Nickleby. The theatricality and lush cinematography of the film are there to remind us that, like all Dickens' work, it's just a story. But, like all Dickens' work, it's so much more.

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1/5/2010 5:24:00 AM

Portrait of a Lady (1996)
After The Piano, Jane Campion could've had it easy. She could've become an awards-bait director, returning to the red carpet every couple years with a new, sure-to-please bit of high-minded drama. And maybe that's what it looked like she was doing when it was revealed that her next film was an adaptation of Henry James' Portrait of a Lady. That was a bit of a trick, though, because this movie is executed with hardly a trace of Merchant Ivory-ness*. It is bizarre, modern and consistently unexpected. In other words, it is a Jane Campion film.

*For the record, Merchant Ivory have produced at least one masterpiece (The Remains of the Day) and a couple other very good films. But they also made The Golden Bowl.

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12/12/2009 5:26:00 AM

I hate when people compare comedy to music. Comedy is terrifying and musicianship is really hard work, just to name a couple of ways in which they differ. Saying one art form is like another art form is just an easy way to sound insightful. That said, let me tell you how comedy is like music.


No one ever says, "I like music" or "I'm a fan of music." That's simply too broad. It's understood by everyone that music is broken down into genres and being a fan of one doesn't necessarily make you a fan of any other. But, then again, no one's really a fan of just one genre of music, except for some punk rockers and they're just obnoxious. Comedy is the same way. Clearly, the Marx Brothers don't have a lot in common with Tim & Eric, other than that they're both funny. Plenty of Marx Brothers fans would be annoyed by Tim & Eric and plenty of Tim & Eric fans would be bored with the Marx brothers.

I've been thinking a lot about these distinctions this years whenever I try to decide what the funniest movie of 2009 is. The more disparate the genres, or sub-genres, of comedy, the harder they are to compare. The fact that my three favorite comedies of this year seem to take place in completely different universes makes it hard to come to a pat conclusion. 

The Hangover is a movie that manages to push the boundaries of taste while still being smart and inventive. In the Loop treads an intellectual line of absurdity by playing to our very real fears about our leaders and their wars. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is pure, inspired silliness designed to make both children and stoners alike giggle uncontrollably. (If we're going by laff-o-meter alone, Cloudy is the clear winner).

Last year, there was only one movie that had enough laughs and artistry, in equal measure, to be named the best comedy of the year (Role Models, of course). This year, it's a much harder decision. Which is a pretty great problem to have.

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12/10/2009 10:48:00 AM

Twilight of the Ice Nymphs (1997)
There has never been a filmmaker like Guy Maddin. Many hate his films, many love them. However one feels, there is no question that you will always remember them. His films don't fade easily from memory. His haunting vision of a soft focus, deliberately artificial world harkens back to the best works of German Expressionism. Maddin is not the only filmmaker doing this, but he is the only one using Expressionism as a way to assault the audience, challenging us to meet him where he is. It's not easy to do, to be sure, especially in a film like Twilight of the Ice Nymphs, where we don't even get the benefit of black and white photography to soften the visual blow. Here, Maddin shoots in bright, saturated color, creating an even more vivid living dream, daring us to try to figure it out (hint: we won't). This film, with insane performances by the likes of Shelley Duvall and Frank Gorshin, is unlike any movie I've ever seen.

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12/6/2009 10:51:00 AM

Maybe it's out of a sense of obligation that Nancy Meyers feels she needs to make comedies. Perhaps she thinks that it's what people expect of her and she doesn't want to disappoint them. Whatever the reason, Nancy Meyers should stop.

Because the basic concept for her new film It's Complicated is essentially very good. A middle aged divorced couple (Streep and Baldwin) unexpectedly find themselves in the throes of passion once again. This situation causes a great deal of confusion and pain for the both of them, but they're determined to discover exactly what it is in themselves that was apparently yearning for this reunion. The story has all the elements of a touching drama. Add in a cast that includes Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin, and you've got yourself the makings of a pretty memorable little movie.
Unless, as I mentioned, you feel compelled to make it a comedy. And herein lay the problem of It's Complicated.

The characters in this film are required by the writer to engage in ridiculous behavior. There are the giggly scenes between Streep and her one dimensional friends, there to support or question her actions as needed. There are scenes of middle aged nudity, which is not bad in and of itself, but these very adult characters react as if they were once again six years old and human anatomy is a new and exciting discovery. And, just when you thought we filmgoers had seen enough scenes of dignified actors playing stoned, we get extended sequences in which all three of our protagonists get high at a party and spend the next ten minutes of the film laughing at nothing.

We have John Krasinski of "The Office" showing up from time to time as Streep's soon-to-be son-in-law. He serves no real purpose to speak of, except for a couple cheap laughs as he attempts to distract his fiance from the dalliances of her parents. Oh, and, in one scene, he shows up wearing women's pajamas. Krasinski does what he can, but isn't given much to work with.

The same can be said of our three leads, as well. Streep, in what can only be described as the "Diane Keaton" role, manages to motivate even the silliest of emotional beats. It's always a pleasure watching Meryl Streep act, but this is one of the few films where I actually felt like I was watching her work. Every moment she spends giggling like a child (and there are many) just made me cringe. Streep deserves better material than this.

Steve Martin is, by all accounts, a very mature and cultured person. His over-the-top work in films like The Pink Panther are clearly what he does to pay the bills, while he puts his real effort into work like Shopgirl. The man can seem like a fountain of intelligence and wit when the project allows. In this film, he is given the fairly thankless role of "the nice guy." It is his job to smile patiently as he is emotionally jerked around. Martin's effortlessness in the role is very refreshing, but that doesn't change that the character itself is pretty one note.

Now we come to Alec Baldwin, whose resurgence as a brilliant comedic actor continues unabated in this film. Much like Streep, he mines what he can from a character that spends most of his time acting totally outrageous. Baldwin takes this collection of mannerisms and inappropriate sex chatter and crafts a pretty solid character. It is to Meyer's credit that Baldwin's character is not simply the "sleazy ex-husband" type, but is allowed to be a legitimate contender for Streep's affections and Baldwin brings him to life in a way we don't expect from a bland romantic comedy. His character seems vital and real, even when he is doing completely unrealistic things.

Streep and Baldwin have three children, but they are treated as largely an afterthought by the film. They keep popping up, but Meyers doesn't seem to know what to do with them. No bother, however, as she seems to be unable to write for any character that isn't middle aged and neurotic. Here, the children spend most of the film either wide eyed and wounded or sunny and smiling. We are not really shown much of who the children are as people; they mostly function as moving pieces of set decoration.

The children's relationship with their parents is just one of many unexplored dramatic possibilities in this film. There is a lot of potential here to really delve into topics such as marriage, divorce, aging, and more. Much like Meyer's 2003 film Something's Gotta Give, she deals with some of these issues in a perfunctory way, but her penchant for the broadest possible comedy gets in the way.

There are a few quiet moments in the film, in which the emotional center of the story is allowed time to walk around and stretch its legs. In these moments, Streep and Baldwin reflect on their marriage and life after divorce. The marriage fell apart seemingly due to Baldwin's infidelity. In one of the powerful moments of the film, Streep reveals that perhaps she was partly to blame for the marriage falling apart, but that, in Baldwin's affair, she had the perfect excuse to take no responsibility for her own actions. It's a startling revelation and denotes a maturity on the part of the writer.

Moments like these, both well written and beautifully acted, only serve to make the rest of the film more frustrating. If only Meyers had followed where her characters were leading, we would have a much better, more satisfying film. One in which we are able to spend time with lived-in characters at a confusing moment in their lives, trying to figure out what the future holds.

Alas, it was not to be. Nancy Meyers makes comedies, dammit, not drama!

And so we are left with a film in which we get an "hilarious" scene involving Alec Baldwin's bare ass, a horrified Steve Martin, and a live webcam. Bravo, Meyers.

Bravo.

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12/5/2009 5:27:00 AM

I remember first seeing the marketing campaign for Robert Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol and rolling my eyes. The trailers and billboards featured a mugging Jim Carrey as Ebenezer Scrooge being put through the computer generated ringer; he gets flung through the air, shrunk down to the size of a mouse, and other supposedly hilarious things. This couldn't seem less like the Charles Dickens classic; instead, it seemed like Zemeckis was taking things that we all knew about the story and was exploiting them. As such, I had no interest in seeing the film. "A Christmas Carol" has long been one of my favorite stories and I was in no mood to see it ruined by an overly-ambitious director with a limitless budget.



Due to unforeseen circumstances, I wound up seeing it and thought it was surprisingly okay. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised, though. There is such inherent power in Dickens' story that all the special effects in Hollywood could never completely outshine it. If you're going to make a movie of "A Christmas Carol," all you have to do is remain fairly faithful to the source material and make a serviceable film and, almost by default, you've got a very watchable movie. Such is the nature with Dickens; he created such intriguing tales and characters, it's nearly impossible to totally screw them up.

As expected, the action sequences stick out like a sore thumb, as if accidentally edited in from a different- worse- film. Their inclusion smacks of pandering, as they seem to come right in the middle of extended periods of genuine emotion and reflection. It seems as if Zemeckis was afraid of losing the audience with all this British dialogue and had to do something to keep their attention.

This is most problematic during Scrooge's encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Future. In what is undeniably the darkest and most foreboding section of the story- as it should be, giving Scrooge's emotional journey- our protagonist finds himself shrunk down to the size of a mouse and chased through the sewer pipes of London and comically smashed in the face by ice sickles. This makes so little sense dramatically, I wonder how a director as savvy as Robert Zemeckis was able to justify keeping it in. Perhaps he thought that some comic relief was needed. If so, it mystifies me as to why he felt the need to make the Ghost of Christmas Future so frightening in the first place. Don't get me wrong; the dread is perfectly realized, and I count it as one of the film's strength, but if the director felt the need to break the tension with some humor, perhaps he could have simply tried to make the section less frightening, rather than try to shoehorn in some broad physical comedy.

As frustrating as moments like these are, there's no denying that Zemeckis is a master at utilizing cutting edge technology to create a fully realized world, as he did in Beowulf, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, and The Polar Express. While some of the character designs are still a bit too creepy for my taste- the impish Bob Cratchit being a prime example- the slightly off-kilter landscapes and grotesquely exaggerated characters seem to fit with the tone that Dickens so often strove to create.

The animation also allows Zemeckis the freedom to pursue his unique interpretation of well-known scenes. For example, as Marley's Ghost clatters out of Scrooge's house, we find him joining a veritable army of miserable ghosts haunting the streets of London, pleading for the forgiveness of the living. There are so many of these melancholy apparitions that we find ourselves coming to a harrowing conclusion: the greed and indifference of Scrooge and Marley is not an uncommon thing. Marley is merely one of the thousands- millions- of people that could have done something valuable with their money and time, but chose instead to hoard it and look down on those without it. Perhaps we know a few people like this. Perhaps we are people like this.

As entertaining as Dickens is, his commitment to stimulating social and economic awareness has always fascinated me. "A Christmas Carol" is one of his more straightforward treatises on the subject of the responsibility of those that have to those that don't. It is dark and lingers on the precipice of condemnation, only to allow Scrooge- and, by extension, the audience- a chance at redemption. And, if we don't take it, God help us, everyone.

As frustrating as some of Zemeckis' artistic choices may be for me, I admire him for standing by the central idea of "A Christmas Carol." He clearly understands the power and appeal of the story and, with a few notable exceptions, allows Dickens to speak for himself. And, as always, he has a lot to say.

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11/20/2009 10:53:00 AM

JOY RIDE (2001)
Before Jigsaw embarked on his lethal brand of moralising, there was a trucker named Rusty Nail. Paul Walker and Steve Zahn play a pair of brothers whose relationship has been fairly nonexistent for the last few years. They reunite and head east in a beat-up jalopy, bored out of their minds and looking break up the tedium. They install a CB radio and pull a prank on a lonely truckdriver. When their antics land a man in the hospital, they are given an extended, cross-country civics lesson by the angry trucker. Director John Dahl manages to take a fairly familiar concept and crank up the tension, making an undeniably-Hollywood situation unbearably, excrutiatingly real. With a solid script and terrific performances (particularly Zahn as the black sheep of the family), Joy Ride deserves to be listed as one of the most effectively suspenseful movies of the last decade.

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11/9/2009 10:54:00 AM

I didn't expect this to be a good film. I really didn't. My misgivings about filmmaker Michael Moore's dubious tactics aside, there's no question that the slew of straight-to-video retaliatory movies made in response are pretty bad. Often, they've been made by people that have no filmmaking experience. They are as sloppily constructed as Moore's films are technically brilliant.

For all the anti-Moore films that I had seen, I was hesitant to watch Michael Moore Hates America. With a title like that, who could ever hope for subtlety or nuance? Any director that picked that title surely must be unable to craft a watchable film, right?

Turns out that my reservations about Michael Wilson's film were largely without merit. Despite the inflammatory title, this movie tries as hard as it can to be truthful, ambitious, and comprehensive. As one would expect, there are budget constraints; this is never more clear than when Wilson attempts to mirror Bowling For Columbine's animated NRA sequence with one of his own. The animation is shoddy, and it detracts slightly from the point he winds up making.

What Wilson lacks in financing he makes up for in honesty. Perhaps the most powerful moment in the film is when Wilson lies to a subject about the nature of the documentary in order to get an unbiased reaction. Afterward, there is a discussion between Wilson and his producer about resorting to Moore's methods. Wilson sends a letter to the subject coming clean. The subject writes back, stating his disappointment in Wilson's deception, but allowing the footage to be used anyway.

Wilson didn't have to use the footage of his producer's dissenting opinion. He didn't have to tell us about sending the subject the letter. He does anyway. Why?

Perhaps because, briefly, he realized just how easy it is to tiptoe across our own moral boundaries when we believe ourselves to be on the side of right. For just a moment, Wilson saw what it was to be Michael Moore, a man whose unquestioning belief in the purity of his own motives has led him to mislead millions of filmgoers.

It's the clearest example of Wilson's approach to the material. Many of the other anti-Moore films are merely reactionary. Wilson has chosen to make his frustration with Michael Moore a jumping off point; an opportunity to talk about larger things than his quibbles with one filmmaker. He also seems to see it as an excuse to show us the America that Moore so often disparages.

Wilson talks to rich people, poor people, soldiers, business owners, and countless others. The portrait of America that is created is one of promise and optimism. An admission that we're certainly not where we should be, but an acknowledgment that we've come a long way in relatively little time. Interview subject Penn Jillette sums it up nicely by stating that, taking large chunks of history at a time, we'll find that there are two things that are always true: the world is always getting better and there are always people claiming that it's getting worse. 

Michael Moore Hates America is a surprisingly humble attempt to show the other side of the conversation. Moore has constantly stated that the majority opinion is on his side, which is why he has had so much success (a decidedly free market way of thinking, it should be noted), and so it would seem to those of us whose opinion of Moore's work is not very high. Living in Los Angeles and having previously lived in Chicago, I can attest to being in the minority when it comes to my feelings on Michael Moore.

However, what Wilson shows is that there are plenty of people out there that see Moore for what he is: a shameless- yet talented- propagandist. Most notable among these people is Albert Maysles, a pioneer in the documentary field, responsible for such brilliant works as Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, and Salesman. Maysles' views on what makes for a documentary seems to stand in direct opposition to those of Moore. He feels that a documentarian must first find a way to love his subject (or at least attempt to understand it) before making a film about it. This love will engender a desire for honesty. Moore, he says, is motivated by a hatred for his subjects, which leads to an urgent call to do anything and everything to help others hate them, too. As documentary is arguably a search for truth, we can only conclude from Maysles' philosophies that Moore, while having considerable talent in filmmaking, leaves a lot to be desired as a journalist.

I went into this film expecting to be told things that I already knew in a way that simply wasn't compelling; a meager first attempt at filmmaking by a conservative reactionary. What I got instead was a sensitive, personal film made in defense of an America that Michael Wilson truly loves and believes in. I'll be the first to say that there are a lot of things wrong with the country. In fact, a few of my opinions would probably be shared by Michael Moore. But when the film was over, I found that I felt proud of the country in which I live and optimistic about both its future and my own.

As Jillette commented, given enough time, things are always going to get better, but some will only ever see it getting worse. I think that those people are necessary; we need people that are dissatisfied with how things are. But I think we also occasionally need somebody to remind us where we've been and how far we've come. That's what Michael Wilson attempts to do with Michael Moore Hates America, and the result is a film that is both uplifting and compelling.

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10/18/2009 7:21:00 PM

The Holy Girl (2004)
There’s no better cauldron in which to boil the burgeoning sexuality of a teenager than strictly observed Catholicism. Luckily they have plenty of both sexuality and Catholicism in South America, which is why it’s the world’s sexiest continent. Lucrecia Martel’s soft and quiet film The Holy Girl explores the intersection and the muddling of religious and hormonal fervor. Anything that approached with so much passion at the age of sexual awakening is going to be the natural receptacle for repressed urges. So when Amalia, the film’s teenaged heroine, is groped in a public place, her moral and sexual reactions, though technically quite different, begin to merge and mutate. The film is slow-paced but never leisurely, building in just the kind of slow burn that Amalia is experiencing inside.

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9/17/2009 10:55:00 AM

Body of Lies (2008)
Like so many other movies that we've discussed in the past, Ridley Scott's Body of Lies is not perfect. In many ways, it is quite unremarkable. However, in one crucial detail, it is one of the more memorable movies I've seen that deal with counterterrorism efforts in the Middle East. The story is about a field operative, Ferris, whose inability to trust his contacts or boss, Hoffman, keeps him from ever truly achieving any of the albeit minor victories he's working towards. After watching the film, somebody asked me, "So, Russell Crowe is the bad guy, right?" My initial instinct was to say no, but I started to think more about it. In a situation as horrible as that of the field agent, it is imperitive to be able to trust those giving you orders. Played by Crowe with a cynical smile, Hoffman proves over and over again to be completely untrustworthy. He gives commands, then will impatiently do something else, without telling his agent. This cuts the legs out from under our protagonist, and he must start over again. Hoffman's unreliability, mixed with his general callousness to the suffering of others- and his insufferable positivity- makes him more dangerous than those out to directly harm Ferris. It is this element that made this film stick out in my mind. Like Paths of Glory before it, Body of Lies illustrates the cluelessness of those that give the orders just as much as frustration of those that must carry them out.

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9/3/2009 4:52:00 PM

Bugsy (1991)
Style and substance don't always have to be at odds with each other. Often, one will be neglected in favor of the other. Movies that do this can still be good, but the truly great films are those that achieve the perfect balance between the two. Barry Levinson's Bugsy manages to have all the glitz and glamor of 1940s Hollywood while never shying away from the darker, more complicated layers of gangster Ben "Bugsy" Siegel. Here, Siegel is a handsome man whose extensive wardrobe seems to be his primary concern in this life. He is a charming womanizer whose singular vision eventually led to the creation of Las Vegas. Everything about him is perfectly-tailored and practiced. It is all about image. And yet, for all of his work to create an elegant, cultured mask, Siegel cannot hide his violent upbringing and unbalanced temper. Played with surprising commitment by Warren Beatty (in what is probably his best performance), Bugsy is totally unpredictable. His actions are no different than those of his fellow mobsters, but his veneer makes him seem more like a movie star than a criminal. It is Levinson's perfect handling and balance of both of these sides of Ben Siegel that makes Bugsy such a satisfying film to watch.

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8/21/2009 4:51:00 PM

As is the case with most Michael Mann films, Public Enemies is a brilliant technical achievement. From the authentic art direction to the crisp editing to the energizing digital cinematography, this film has all the technical elements required in a memorable film.

It's a shame that I didn't care about the characters at all. 

Public Enemies is about John Dillinger, the legendary bank robber whose exploits made him a would-be folk hero across the country. The story of Dillinger- and the lawman that pursues him- seems like it would be great material for Michael Mann, who revolutionized modern crime movies with his exceptional Heat. Certainly a technical master, Mann has been a favorite of mine for years; not just for his directorial flourishes, but for his ability to relate interesting stories about fascinating people. Watching him delve into what made Dillinger tick could have been a deeply satisfying cinematic experience.

Unfortunately, however, Mann has allowed himself to get so mired in the minute details of the period and the intricacies of the events that he forgot to make Dillinger relatable. The character certainly doesn't have to be sympathetic, nor does he need to be an open book. As a film watcher, I like having to figure some things out for myself. However, in order to do that, I need to be given some information. Just give me the slightest hint of character motivation and I'll be happy to take it from there.

Such things are not to be found in Public Enemies, however, as I left the theater feeling no closer to knowing who John Dillinger was than when I entered. The same goes for Melvin Purvis, the federal agent tasked with catching Dillinger. His motivations remain as elusive as those of his quarry. We sometimes feel that Purvis is conflicted about the measures to which he must go in order to gain the upper hand, but we don't know why. Does he not have the stomach for it? Does he secretly admire Dillinger? We just don't know.

The story of Dillinger and Purvis has been related before, most notably in John Milius' 1973 film Dillinger. In that version, we got a strong sense of who this man was. Played with gusto by Warren Oates, Dillinger seemed like a living, breathing person, not the shadowy legend embodied by Johnny Depp. Oates' Dillinger is not remarkably likable; he is more of a charismatic brute. But at least he has a pulse.

I don't know why Mann was apparently reluctant to dig deeper into his subject. He is clearly committed to preserving the authenticity of the period and events; perhaps he felt strongly about not overly fictionalizing an already larger-than-life historical figure. Whatever his reasoning, Mann's hard work at bringing Dillinger's world to life ultimately amounts to nothing. What does it matter how amazing this created world is if we don't care about the people inhabiting it?

There are a couple of characters that stand out. Marion Cotillard transcends the fairly thankless role of Billie Frechette. In films like this, there is almost always a woman whose job it is to worry about the protagonist. Here, Cotillard imbues Frechette with credible vulnerability, helping us to believe that this woman still exists when Dillinger isn't around. Billy Crudup is also memorable as J. Edgar Hoover, who capitalizes on the crime wave to snatch more power for himself. Played as an unshakable optimist, whose smile doesn't even fade when being berated by his superiors. Lastly, Stephen Graham creates a truly loathsome Baby Face Nelson. His recklessness and indifference to human life does more to define our protagonist by contrast than anything Dillinger does directly.

For me, the most notable directorial choice is in regards to the violence. Michael Mann has never glorified violence. In his career, Mann has done everything he can to emphasize the fragility of the human body and the inherent brutality and heartlessness of violence. He takes no joy in depicting these scenes, and we take no joy in watching them. We cringe when innocent people are hurt, as one would expect. What's interesting is how heartbreaking it is to watch Dillinger's men go down. Dangerous though they may be, when they've been shot several times and are slowly bleeding out, their sad acceptance of their fate reminds us that these men are human beings, too. The graphic depiction of Dillinger's assassination may seem excessive to some, but I view as wholly necessary.

It is unfortunate that only in death do we feel something for these characters. Perhaps if Mann had put as much humanity and care into depicting these people's lives as he did their deaths, Public Enemies could have been one of the best films of the year and a worthy addition to the gangster genre. As it is, it feels like little more than a missed opportunity. A prime example of style over substance.

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8/15/2009 7:23:00 PM