I wanted to amscray.

Rating: Null/10 (27 February 2010)

Ten minutes into Public Enemies I wanted to amscray. But I'm a culture vulture. So, I decided to stay put, ya see? So I took off my scalp doily for the night and told the pillow puncher to put the cat out before she headed off to the ozoner.
After an hour, I'm in a flush. I says to myself, "somethin's missin'." I press "pause" and make myself a cup of battery acid. Nah, it wasn't the jitters that I needed.
So, my lunch hooks press "play" and I'm hot to go again. But I don't believe my peepers. I see bank robberies and escapes, but they ain't bold. Just noisy. Cause of the bullets. Bullets shooting moonlight into the bad guys. Bullets shooting moonlight into the good guys. Plenty of moonlight, ya see? Maybe too much moonlight.
Then I says to myself, "Geez, Depp ain't no hoodlum. Bale ain't no hero. Who am I supposed to root for? What gives? Public Enemies ain't no documentary. So why play it close to the cuff and cheat us seat renters out of a real gangster-feeling story? Because the relatives are still alive?" And then it hit me. Public Enemies feels like a long, drawn out TV program. Director Michael Mann's laundry list is mostly directing and writing for the idiot box. And then it hits me again – what's missin'. What's missin'? Back in the days when actors were under contract to studios they called it movie magic.
So, I give Public Enemies the grand bounce. I press "eject." Then I take Cagney's G-Men out of the barrister and set my peepers on that for 86 minutes. Like the DVD box says, "There oughta be a law- and his name is Cagney."
I say Public Enemies is all wet.