John Milius's DILLINGER is a hardcore, fast-paced account of a G-Man pursuing and getting his man, one of the most notorious outlaws of the century.
The problem the writer/director faces when dealing with historical figures is what kind of movie do I want to make? Do I want to lionize the protagonist, make him bigger than life, a living myth? Or do I want to show a man with all the failings that implies, struggling with the same emotions the rest of us do? Milius here chooses the latter approach, and Warren Oates as Dillinger is never less than human exudes the requisite bark and menace but lacks, to some degree, the gravitas that would have been needed to make him a more imposing figure.
The film, unlike most of its kind, doesn't bother to probe the psychological impulses that first drives an individual to crime. There are no flashbacks to Dillinger's childhood (we are only shown his coming home to an average, middle-of-the-road American family) and those unfamiliar with the true story will have to assume that John Dillinger, the bank robber and outlaw, is a natural by-product of the Great Depression and the poverty that sweeps the nation. That sentiment is echoed in the scene in which Ben Johnson confronts a little boy. Used to be that cops, cowboys, and firefighters were boys' heroes. Well, not no more they're not. The kid, when told he has to go to school to be a G-Man, bluntly retorts that "Dillinger didn't." "But he's in jail!" Purvis shoots back. The kid waves and walks away. Purvis is puzzled. Things have changed.
Only later on, during Dillinger's confrontations with "Babyface" Nelson do we get hints that Dillinger's bank-robbing spree is fueled by growing megalomania: "You can't kill me, punk! I'm immortal!" He has embraced the myth that sensationalized press accounts of his exploits have created and it becomes clear that Dillinger fancies himself a hero of the people, a rebel fighting Hoover, Roosevelt's New Deal, and Big Government. The films remains even-handed though, never passing judgment on the central figure's morality or lack thereof (though Dillinger himself is a little too often referred to as "nice" despite some proofs to the contrary). Purvis is not necessarily portrayed as an Elliott Ness-like paragon of morality either, he's no arbiter of all that's just and good, he's just a man on a mission -- to avenge the Kansas City massacre in which several FBI agents perished at the hands of gangsters. DILLINGER is almost documentary-like in this way; the viewer is presented with the facts (however fictionalized for creative purposes) and it's up to him to make up his mind, though I'll admit I found myself rooting for Dillinger and his gang during the shootouts (is the failing on my part or Milius's?)
Like all bank-robbery films, the movie tends to be somewhat shapeless, events happen in an elliptical fashion to mark the span of time between hits and the tension in-between what is basically a succession of set-pieces, is relieved by quiet interludes of the wild bunch enjoying the fruits of their labor in the peaceful countryside.
Another problem with the film is that, Harry Dean Stanton apart, none of Dillinger's partners in crime fully register with personalities of their own, not even -- most egregiously -- Richard Dreyfus's "Babyface" Nelson.
Ben Johnson, as tough, stone-faced FBI Agent Purvis, brings the cool veteran assurance of a man biding his time to his role. If anything, Johnson makes Purvis too tough, almost invulnerable -- never once letting a crack in his armor show -- that it's hard to believe that such a man would later in life commit suicide with the gun he used on Dillinger.
Michelle Phillips, in her debut, does a creditable job as a half-breed former prostitute turned Dillinger's girlfriend and her attachment and devotion to her man is never less than credible, bringing a certain kind of poignancy to her scenes with Oates.
Aesthetically, the film's compositions are pleasant (if a tad too tight-cropped) and take full advantage of the barren, scorched earth landscapes of Depression-era little towns. The archival footage, newspaper clippings, and (older) movie clips interspersed in the narrative gives the film its of-the-era feel and further its newsreel-like quality. As for the violent action sequences, they are the highlights really, staged Old West style a la Peckinpah, fast and furious bouts of carnage, mayhem, and death punctuated by the mighty roar of Tommy guns.
DILLINGER may, in the end, be too narrow in scope to fully do justice to as fascinating a figure as its eponymous anti-hero. Nevertheless, it is a very watchable actioner a la Joseph H. Lewis's "DEADLY IS THE FEMALE" (a.k.a. "GUN CRAZY") or the FBI STORY and true crime story fans should give it a try AFTER having seen such gangster classics as LITTLE CAESAR, SCARFACE - SHAME OF A NATION, PUBLIC ENEMY N.1, WHITE HEAT, etc...
The problem the writer/director faces when dealing with historical figures is what kind of movie do I want to make? Do I want to lionize the protagonist, make him bigger than life, a living myth? Or do I want to show a man with all the failings that implies, struggling with the same emotions the rest of us do? Milius here chooses the latter approach, and Warren Oates as Dillinger is never less than human exudes the requisite bark and menace but lacks, to some degree, the gravitas that would have been needed to make him a more imposing figure.
The film, unlike most of its kind, doesn't bother to probe the psychological impulses that first drives an individual to crime. There are no flashbacks to Dillinger's childhood (we are only shown his coming home to an average, middle-of-the-road American family) and those unfamiliar with the true story will have to assume that John Dillinger, the bank robber and outlaw, is a natural by-product of the Great Depression and the poverty that sweeps the nation. That sentiment is echoed in the scene in which Ben Johnson confronts a little boy. Used to be that cops, cowboys, and firefighters were boys' heroes. Well, not no more they're not. The kid, when told he has to go to school to be a G-Man, bluntly retorts that "Dillinger didn't." "But he's in jail!" Purvis shoots back. The kid waves and walks away. Purvis is puzzled. Things have changed.
Only later on, during Dillinger's confrontations with "Babyface" Nelson do we get hints that Dillinger's bank-robbing spree is fueled by growing megalomania: "You can't kill me, punk! I'm immortal!" He has embraced the myth that sensationalized press accounts of his exploits have created and it becomes clear that Dillinger fancies himself a hero of the people, a rebel fighting Hoover, Roosevelt's New Deal, and Big Government. The films remains even-handed though, never passing judgment on the central figure's morality or lack thereof (though Dillinger himself is a little too often referred to as "nice" despite some proofs to the contrary). Purvis is not necessarily portrayed as an Elliott Ness-like paragon of morality either, he's no arbiter of all that's just and good, he's just a man on a mission -- to avenge the Kansas City massacre in which several FBI agents perished at the hands of gangsters. DILLINGER is almost documentary-like in this way; the viewer is presented with the facts (however fictionalized for creative purposes) and it's up to him to make up his mind, though I'll admit I found myself rooting for Dillinger and his gang during the shootouts (is the failing on my part or Milius's?)
Like all bank-robbery films, the movie tends to be somewhat shapeless, events happen in an elliptical fashion to mark the span of time between hits and the tension in-between what is basically a succession of set-pieces, is relieved by quiet interludes of the wild bunch enjoying the fruits of their labor in the peaceful countryside.
Another problem with the film is that, Harry Dean Stanton apart, none of Dillinger's partners in crime fully register with personalities of their own, not even -- most egregiously -- Richard Dreyfus's "Babyface" Nelson.
Ben Johnson, as tough, stone-faced FBI Agent Purvis, brings the cool veteran assurance of a man biding his time to his role. If anything, Johnson makes Purvis too tough, almost invulnerable -- never once letting a crack in his armor show -- that it's hard to believe that such a man would later in life commit suicide with the gun he used on Dillinger.
Michelle Phillips, in her debut, does a creditable job as a half-breed former prostitute turned Dillinger's girlfriend and her attachment and devotion to her man is never less than credible, bringing a certain kind of poignancy to her scenes with Oates.
Aesthetically, the film's compositions are pleasant (if a tad too tight-cropped) and take full advantage of the barren, scorched earth landscapes of Depression-era little towns. The archival footage, newspaper clippings, and (older) movie clips interspersed in the narrative gives the film its of-the-era feel and further its newsreel-like quality. As for the violent action sequences, they are the highlights really, staged Old West style a la Peckinpah, fast and furious bouts of carnage, mayhem, and death punctuated by the mighty roar of Tommy guns.
DILLINGER may, in the end, be too narrow in scope to fully do justice to as fascinating a figure as its eponymous anti-hero. Nevertheless, it is a very watchable actioner a la Joseph H. Lewis's "DEADLY IS THE FEMALE" (a.k.a. "GUN CRAZY") or the FBI STORY and true crime story fans should give it a try AFTER having seen such gangster classics as LITTLE CAESAR, SCARFACE - SHAME OF A NATION, PUBLIC ENEMY N.1, WHITE HEAT, etc...