There are whiffs of that sentiment coming off the reviews. Lisa Schwarzbaum at Entertainment Weekly says "Public Enemies re-creates clothes, but doesn't fully fashion the man who wore them." Which reads to us like the film is just another feat of stylish camerawork and deftly-applied new technologies (Enemies was filmed entirely in HD, for example). Schwarzbaum sends the film to critical no man's land by giving it a listless B-. What are we to do with a B minus?

There's no doubt that Mann is a supremely talented director—Manhunter is a plodding procedural picture that is probably the most adeptly faithful adaptation of Thomas Harris' often florid prose (Silence of the Lambs is too lovely and sad and mysterious and wistful—it's its own thing entirely). And Heat, well Heat is a crime movie to end all crime movies. There any dash of emotion and depth of feeling (thanks be to you, Diane Venora) was a welcome and surprising respite from what the film needed to be, which was grim and mechanical.

Manhola Dargis at the New York Times, one of our favorite film critics, gave Enemies a rave, but language like this still makes us worry:

The same holds true of "Public Enemies," which looks and plays like no other American gangster film I can think of and very much like a Michael Mann movie, with its emphasis on men at work, its darkly moody passages, eruptions of violence and pictorial beauty. Mr. Mann's digital manipulations, in particular, which encompass almost pure abstraction and interludes of hyper-realism, is worthy of longer exegesis, one that explores how this still-unfamiliar format is changing the movies: it allows, among other things, filmmakers to capture the eerie brightness of nighttime as never before.

See, there she is being dazzled by the same magicks that have left us feeling all dour and depressed after all of the most recent Mann pictures. Sure Collateral looked great, but where was the genuine tension, where was the human spark that should have made us care about Jamie Foxx's survival? Miami Vice had striking visual moments as well, but was otherwise cold as a fish flopping on a Key West dock. The whole "my partner got shot, oh my god" moments were swallowed up by Mann's turgid music, his gloomy, oppressive lighting. (And about that music. It's a semi-known fact that Mann is going deaf, but still insists on doing his own audio mixing.)

Lately we're worried that there really isn't anything else up Mann's sleeve but polished trickery. Public Enemies, what with the economy these days and all, could be a story of poor America bubbling over into revolt. And maybe it is! We haven't seen it! But from the ten or so reviews we've read, it sounds mostly the same as everything else. And yet he's still one of those few directors that thoughtful critics love to love. Because he shows them something gritty and dangerous and, most of all, cool, when most of the Good films they review these days are sparkling indies or message movies. Though it's not like there aren't other people making cannily-shot crime films—the sublime No Country for Old Men comes to mind. But there was something mysterious and existential and, well, deep at work in that movie that Mann has so far seemed unable to conjure.

What do you think? Can 66-year-old Michael Mann make a movie these days that's hinged more heavily on story and character than on technical craft? Do you care?

Image via Getty

The criteria alone defy rationality: only one film per director, lest "City of Angels specialists such as Michael Mann, Quentin Tarantino, Robert Altman and Paul Thomas Anderson" overrun the seminal work of, ahem, Michael Ritchie and F. Gary Gray. But even taking the list on its own terms, we just don't get it — Crash? Jackie Brown? Really, LAT? Find our quick, admittedly incomplete corrective after the jump.

1. Jackie Brown. Come on.

Let's just keep it short: Jackie Brown is not a better film than Pulp Fiction or Reservoir Dogs. No point in fighting or meritocratic debate, like the author wants. It's not debatable — there is nothing to see here but an inaccuracy.

2. Collateral owes its life to Heat.

Two things: 1) Stuart Beattie's original script for Collateral was set in New York, hence the cab driving protagonist and subway. It's an LA film by convenience, which is to say, not at all. 2) Michael Mann conceived and executed Heat a "Los Angeles crime saga," and its use of locations — over 100, interwoven on-screen like the geography itself — predated and provoked Collateral's more nocturnal survey by almost 10 years. Heat's superiority here isn't really debatable either.

3. This list is in no particular order, right?

Because we know nobody listed Charles Burnett's To Sleep With Anger (#21) as sort of a bottom-rung afterthought to everything from Clueless (#7) to L.A. Story (#20). And Mulholland Drive (#11) is beneath Beverly Hills Cop (#5).

4. If you have to include Fletch, you need to condense the list.

Or expand it — a 30-year list would have at least featured the added benefit of Blade Runner, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, The Decline of Western Civilization and E.T. But a 20-year list would have probably been just fine — and you still would been able to keep Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

5. The least obvious omission is the most obvious.

Thom Andersen's three-hour 2004 documentary Los Angeles Plays Itself remains an exhaustive, fascinating exploration of LA's history and uses as a big-screen location. As such, considering these selections, we're not surprised it's not included here.

So what did we miss?

• The top 25 of the last 25 [LAT]