As a devoted enthusiast of pop culture history, the era of the 1930s crime wave and the legendary figure of John Dillinger have always held a special fascination. My interest isn’t just academic; I’m also a long-time admirer of John Milius’ gritty 1973 film, Dillinger. So, when Michael Mann released Public Enemies in 2009, based on Bryan Burrough’s meticulously researched book Public Enemies: America’s Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933–34, I was immediately eager to see how these two cinematic interpretations of the same historical events stacked up, especially given that both films were significantly shaped by their directors’ writing.
The central question loomed: How does Public Enemies, with its modern sensibilities and big-budget sheen, truly compare to Dillinger, the raw and impactful 1973 classic?
The answer, perhaps surprisingly, is that Public Enemies holds its own remarkably well. It’s not superior to Dillinger, but it’s a compelling film in its own right, offering a different, yet equally valid, perspective on the Dillinger saga.
To understand the nuances of this comparison, it’s useful to frame Dillinger as a masterfully crafted B-movie, a film that maximizes every penny of its budget. It boasts a stellar cast of character actors, faces you recognize and trust to deliver authentic performances, alongside a future star on the cusp of wider recognition. Public Enemies, in contrast, operates on a grander scale. It’s an opulent, almost epic undertaking, unmistakably an A-list production with A-list stars.
Budget and Scope: A Tale of Two Hollywoods
In terms of sheer cinematic efficiency, Dillinger arguably takes the initial lead. Its ability to create a powerful and memorable film experience with what must have been a comparatively modest budget is a testament to resourceful filmmaking. It’s a lean, mean cinematic machine.
Plot and Narrative: Echoes Across Decades
Both films delve into the tumultuous period of the FBI’s relentless pursuit of John Dillinger and his gang, alongside other notorious outlaws who terrorized the American Midwest during the Great Depression. The narrative similarities are so striking that Public Enemies could, at first glance, be mistaken for a remake of Dillinger.
This mirroring isn’t accidental. Both films draw from the same well of historical events and, to some extent, the same source material. However, crucially, neither film aims for strict documentary accuracy. Instead, they both operate within the realm of historical fiction. They use the factual backdrop of the Dillinger era to explore broader themes – the zeitgeist of the 1930s, the public’s fascination with outlaws, and the evolving methods of law enforcement. They are interested in capturing a certain truth about the era and the personalities of Dillinger and his FBI nemesis, Melvin Purvis, rather than adhering strictly to every detail of the historical record.
Both films succeed in telling compelling stories, and within those narratives, grains of historical truth are certainly present. However, both also take significant liberties with the timeline and specific events. For instance, the dramatic tension is heightened in both films by suggesting a direct, almost personal, rivalry between Dillinger and Purvis. In reality, these two figures never actually met or directly communicated during Dillinger’s infamous crime spree. Similarly, historical timelines are compressed and reordered for dramatic effect; Pretty Boy Floyd’s death, which historically occurred after Dillinger’s, is presented earlier in both movies to streamline the narrative and focus on the hunt for Dillinger.
While these historical deviations might irk purists, they are cinematically justifiable. Accuracy for accuracy’s sake can sometimes hinder the pacing and dramatic impact of a film. In this case, these changes serve to amplify the central conflict and maintain focus on the pursuit of Dillinger, the outlaw who captured the public imagination like no other since Jesse James. Depicting the actual hunt for Dillinger and his contemporaries with complete fidelity would likely result in a narrative that feels fragmented, inefficient, and ultimately less satisfying for a cinematic audience. Therefore, the “poetic license” taken by both films is not only understandable but arguably necessary to create engaging and impactful dramas.
Historical Accuracy vs. Dramatic License: A Necessary Compromise
In terms of balancing historical accuracy with dramatic necessity, both films achieve a commendable tie. Neither prioritizes absolute factual precision, but both effectively utilize the historical context to create compelling and insightful narratives.
Structure and Pacing: Parallel Paths to Confrontation
Structurally, both films employ a similar approach, interweaving the narratives of Dillinger and Purvis as they inexorably move towards their final, inevitable confrontation. This parallel storytelling builds tension and allows the audience to see the unfolding events from multiple perspectives.
In Public Enemies, this structural approach is particularly effective in highlighting the evolving methods of the FBI. The film portrays a young, ambitious Melvin Purvis (Christian Bale) confronting the brutal reality that the Dillinger gang operates with a cunning and criminal intuition that the FBI’s fresh-faced recruits, largely college-educated but lacking in real-world experience, are ill-equipped to handle. Purvis’s appeal to J. Edgar Hoover (Billy Crudup) for more seasoned assistance leads to the arrival of Charles Winstead (Stephen Lang), a veteran Texas lawman. This dynamic introduces a compelling subplot within Public Enemies, exploring the clash and eventual collaboration between the old guard of law enforcement and the new, more technologically focused FBI agents. It’s a nuanced portrayal of institutional evolution under pressure.
Dillinger, in contrast, streamlines this aspect by casting the seasoned character actor Ben Johnson as Purvis. While Johnson’s casting deviates significantly from historical accuracy – he arguably looks more like Purvis’s grandfather than the man himself – it serves a different dramatic purpose. The film sidesteps the internal FBI dynamics to focus more directly on the cat-and-mouse game between Dillinger and a more established, almost archetypal lawman figure. The subplot in Dillinger involving Purvis’s engagement to a much younger woman feels somewhat out of place and tonally inconsistent, adding a slightly jarring element to the otherwise focused narrative.
However, despite historical liberties, Ben Johnson’s sheer screen presence and inherent authority are undeniable. He brings a gravitas to the role that, while historically inaccurate, is undeniably captivating. Bale’s Purvis, in comparison, can sometimes feel somewhat restrained, perhaps even a little bloodless, lacking the same immediate impact.
Ultimately, in terms of structural effectiveness and character portrayal within the narrative framework, Public Enemies edges out a slight advantage. While Dillinger operates as a rip-roaring melodrama, prioritizing action and larger-than-life characters, Public Enemies, despite its action sequences, aims for a more grounded and dramatic portrayal. Bale’s performance, in this context, aligns more closely with Mann’s dramatic intentions, inhabiting the character with greater emotional nuance and even bearing a striking physical resemblance to the real Melvin Purvis.
The Dillinger Performances: Oates vs. Depp – A Matter of Interpretation
And now, the pivotal question: who embodies Dillinger most convincingly? This isn’t a contest that requires much deliberation.
The clear advantage here goes to Dillinger, primarily because Warren Oates seems born to play the role. His physical resemblance to John Dillinger is uncanny, almost startling. Beyond mere physical likeness, Oates captures the hard-bitten attitude, the underlying fatalism, and the charismatic swagger of Dillinger with remarkable authenticity. His portrayal is the cornerstone of Milius’s film, imbuing it with a raw, visceral energy.
Johnny Depp’s interpretation of Dillinger in Public Enemies is certainly entertaining and, in its own way, complex. He depicts Dillinger as a more romantic, almost haunted figure. However, in the final analysis, Depp’s Dillinger, despite his charisma, comes across as somewhat detached, lacking the blue-collar grit and desperation that defined the real Dillinger and that Oates so effortlessly embodies. In a curious parallel, Depp’s Dillinger, much like Bale’s Purvis, can feel almost too polished, too refined, lacking the raw edge that characterized the figures they portray.
Supporting Cast and Screenplay: Depth vs. Star Power
A telling scene in Milius’s Dillinger perfectly encapsulates the fundamental difference in approach between the two films. In this scene, Homer Van Meter (played memorably by Harry Dean Stanton) carjacks a college student while evading the FBI. During their brief, tense encounter, Van Meter learns the student plays football. Van Meter casually mentions he played center for the state penitentiary team. The student, incredulous, remarks, “You don’t look big enough to be a center.” Van Meter’s chillingly understated reply, “I was big enough,” speaks volumes about the character’s hardened past and the brutal realities of the era.
This scene highlights the strength of Dillinger’s supporting cast and screenplay. While Public Enemies boasts an undeniably talented cast, the supporting players in Dillinger inhabit their roles with a depth and authenticity that surpasses Mann’s film. The outlaws in Public Enemies, despite the actors’ individual skills, never quite gel as a cohesive gang. In contrast, Dillinger’s ensemble – featuring not just Stanton but also Cloris Leachman, Geoffrey Lewis, Michelle Phillips, and a young Richard Dreyfuss – feels organic and genuinely menacing. They embody a believable criminal fraternity.
This disparity stems, in part, from the screenplay’s focus in each film. Dillinger’s screenplay, penned by Milius, prioritizes character development and ensemble dynamics, giving even minor characters memorable moments and distinct personalities.
The advantage in supporting cast and screenplay unequivocally goes to Dillinger. The caveat, however, is Marion Cotillard’s portrayal of Billie Frechette in Public Enemies. Cotillard’s performance narrowly surpasses Michelle Phillips’s in Dillinger, particularly in Frechette’s final scenes. Cotillard’s portrayal of Billie’s stoicism crumbling under a torrent of conflicting emotions is genuinely breathtaking, adding a layer of poignant tragedy to Public Enemies.
Screenplay Focus: Dillinger’s Gang vs. The FBI’s Rise
Despite drawing from the same historical wellspring and employing similar structural approaches, the screenplays of John Milius’s Dillinger and Michael Mann / Ann Biderman / Ronan Bennett’s Public Enemies diverge significantly in their thematic focus.
Milius’s screenplay for Dillinger keeps its gaze firmly fixed on Dillinger and his gang. Law enforcement, embodied by Ben Johnson’s Melvin Purvis, is depicted as a relentless, almost mythical force – a cigar-chomping, overcoat-clad “angel of death” relentlessly pursuing Dillinger. Warren Oates’s Dillinger is acutely aware of his impending doom. Despite his outward bravado and taunts directed at Purvis, he understands the inevitable conclusion of his story. His actions are driven by a desire to prolong his freedom, to add chapters to his outlaw saga before the final page turns.
Mann, conversely, directs his narrative focus towards the FBI’s response to the escalating crime wave. He’s less interested in Dillinger as an individual and more fascinated by the institutional evolution of law enforcement. Public Enemies delves into the technical aspects of criminal pursuit, the burgeoning field of forensic science, and the intricate political maneuvering of J. Edgar Hoover as he consolidates power and authority within the nascent FBI. The internal struggles and strategic adaptations of Christian Bale’s Purvis and his team are explored in detail, highlighting the FBI’s transformation into a modern law enforcement agency. The film positions both Dillinger’s gang and Purvis’s FBI team as standing on the precipice of a new era, but it’s Purvis’s team, with their foresight and adaptability, that represents the future of law enforcement.
Thematic Echoes: From Classic Crime Cinema to Mann’s Signature Style
Public Enemies subtly nods to earlier cinematic works, creating thematic resonances that enrich the viewing experience. One scene, reminiscent of the iconic Bledsoe scene in William Goldman’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (another tale of outlaws facing obsolescence), depicts Dillinger confronting syndicate soldier Phil D’Andrea (John Ortiz). D’Andrea coldly informs Dillinger that the mob-run bookie joint they occupy generates more money in a single day than Dillinger can steal in a bank robbery, and this steady flow of illicit cash buys them comprehensive protection from law enforcement… except when the authorities are specifically hunting John Dillinger. This exchange underscores the changing landscape of crime, where organized syndicates eclipse individual operators like Dillinger, rendering him increasingly vulnerable.
Another scene echoes Michael Mann’s own Heat, specifically the famous coffee shop encounter between LAPD Lieutenant Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino) and professional thief Neil McCauley (Robert De Niro). In Heat, Hanna asks McCauley if he has enough time to achieve his aspirations. McCauley’s laconic reply, “No. Not yet,” encapsulates the film’s themes of time running out and the existential anxieties of both lawmen and criminals. Public Enemies mirrors this with a scene where Alvin Karpis (Giovanni Ribisi) attempts to recruit Dillinger for one last major heist, promising enough money for Dillinger to escape to Cuba. Dillinger agrees he desires escape, but not to Cuba, but to a place beyond the reach of U.S. law.
This subtle thematic shift marks a crucial divergence in the portrayal of Dillinger between the two films. Warren Oates’s Dillinger in the 1973 film is essentially buying time, delaying the inevitable reckoning he knows is coming. He operates without illusions about his long-term prospects. Johnny Depp’s Dillinger, however, possesses a degree of hubris, a belief, however fragile, that he can ultimately outwit the system and escape.
This thematic distinction subtly elevates Depp’s Dillinger beyond the working-class origins emphasized in Oates’s portrayal. Depp’s Dillinger engages in philosophical and almost class-conscious dialogues with Bale’s Purvis, suggesting a strange, almost grudging respect between pursuer and pursued. Conversely, Ben Johnson’s Purvis and Oates’s Dillinger operate on a more primal level, their conflict rooted in a more straightforward, less nuanced dynamic.
Despite Public Enemies’ intriguing thematic explorations, the advantage remains with Dillinger. Milius’s film, with its morally unambiguous characters – gangsters and G-men alike operate within a clearer ethical framework – resonates more powerfully. The characters in Dillinger, despite their criminal or law enforcement roles, possess a core of moral honesty that enhances the film’s impact.
Authenticity of Setting: Real Locations vs. Evocative Sparseness
Public Enemies went to great lengths to film in actual locations where the historical events transpired, meticulously recreating the atmosphere of the 1930s with scores of authentically costumed extras. This commitment to location shooting adds a layer of visual authenticity to the film.
Milius, in contrast, filmed Dillinger primarily in Oklahoma, utilizing towns and locales that had remained largely unchanged since the early 20th century. This approach, while perhaps less geographically precise, yielded a different kind of authenticity – a sense of lived-in reality, of places untouched by time.
When Public Enemies constructed sets, particularly for bank robbery scenes, they sometimes leaned towards a stylized, almost theatrical aesthetic, reminiscent of a James Bond film set. Dillinger’s bank settings, on the other hand, were decidedly crummier, small-town, almost dilapidated enterprises. Whether historically accurate in every detail or not, Dillinger’s settings were far more evocative of the economic desperation and social anxieties of the Depression era.
In terms of creating a believable and immersive atmosphere, Dillinger claims the advantage. Its use of sparseness and unadorned settings, whether intentional or a consequence of budgetary constraints, ultimately works in its favor, lending the film a raw, unpolished, and undeniably authentic feel.
Final Verdict: Dillinger (1973) Still Reigns Supreme
In conclusion, while Michael Mann’s Public Enemies is a commendable and meticulously crafted film, Dillinger (1973) remains, for me, the definitive John Dillinger Movie. It offers a more visceral, more character-driven, and ultimately more satisfying cinematic experience. Dillinger’s raw energy and unwavering focus on its characters allow the story to shine without being overshadowed by the scale of its production. It’s a testament to the power of focused storytelling and committed performances.
© Buzz Dixon
