Like many Hollywood stars of the 1930s and ’40s, James Cagney is familiar to a lot of modern viewers primarily through impersonations of him — “You dirty rat!” and so forth. Never mind that he never actually said that in a movie, he played a lot of gangsters and tough guys who said things like that, starting with Tom Powers in The Public Enemy. Along with Little Caesar, which came out the same year and had Edward G. Robinson (the other Old-Timey Actor Who Played Gangsters), Public Enemy created the crime flick as we know it. But what value does it have beyond that historical significance? Let’s cram a grapefruit in somebody’s face and investigate.

The praise: The Public Enemy was nominated for an Oscar in the “best story” category (the forerunner to best adapted screenplay) but did not win. The American Film Institute includes it on the list of cinema’s best heroes and villains (Tom Powers, #42) and best gangster movies (#8). It is also part of every single montage ever created regarding James Cagney, movies from the Depression, or old Warner Bros. productions.

The context: Some of the biggest news stories of the Roaring Twenties involved Prohibition, bootlegging, and colorful underworld figures like Al Capone and Bugs Moran, so it was no surprise when Hollywood started adapting these tales for the big screen. There had always been movies about criminals, of course, but the rise of the gangster genre really began in the early 1930s, coinciding with the rise of Depression-era bank robbers like Bonnie and Clyde, John Dillinger, and Baby Face Nelson.

A novel called Beer and Blood, by John Bright, was the basis for The Public Enemy, which went into production at the tail end of 1930 and was shot in January and February of 1931. The director was William A. Wellman, a former actor, World War I fighter pilot, and all-around rugged adventurer who holds the distinction of having directed the Best Picture winner at the first Academy Awards (Wings). Public Enemy premiered in April 1931, less than three months after shooting wrapped, and had the advantage of arriving on the heels of Little Caesar, a popular film that had whetted the public’s appetite for hard-boiled gangsters but had also suffered from the stagy stodginess that characterized a lot of early talkies. Public Enemy was more polished and sophisticated, with interesting camera movement and Cagney’s rat-a-tat delivery. After being made for $150,000, it became one of the first talkies to gross $1 million at the box office.

James Cagney was a song-and-dance vaudeville-and-Broadway type who’d gotten good notices for the few movies he’d made at this point. The Public Enemy was his first starring role, though, and it instantly shot him to stardom. He talked very fast, which was discouraged in those early days of sound recording, and his mannerisms were eccentric. Audiences couldn’t look away when he was on the screen as Tom Powers, which meant they were lured into watching him perform deeds that grew in infamy as the movie went on. Cagney was typecast for a few years after this (not that he complained much), playing thugs and tough guys regularly before breaking out into other types.

The movie: A kid named Tom Powers (James Cagney) starts out as a petty criminal and works his way up to robbery and murder in gangland Chicago in the 1910s and ’20s. He is at odds with his brother, Mike (Donald Cook), but nice to his mother (Beryl Mercer). His buddy Matt Doyle (Edward Woods) does whatever he tells him. One of Tom’s girlfriends winds up on the wrong side of a grapefruit.

What it influenced: Inspired by the success of The Public Enemy and Little Caesar, Hollywood cranked out numerous gangster pictures over the next few years. None were huge hits, but they tended to be profitable. Audiences liked them for the same reason they liked sensationalistic tabloid stories about real-life crooks, and for the same reason they went to the movies in the first place: harmless escapism and the indulgence of wishful thinking. We are upstanding citizens who would never break the law, of course … but it sure is exciting to watch other people do it.

The grapefruit scene was immediately famous for its sheer meanness, and was frequently imitated or parodied over the years. It was a prime example of something a character could do in a movie to indicate his anger or cruelty without physically harming anyone. The simplicity of the act is what was so shocking. He didn’t slap the woman, or shoot her. He just crammed half a grapefruit in her face. But he did it with such contempt and fury that the effect was chilling, and ripe for emulation.

Martin Scorsese has professed being a fan of Cagney in general and this film specifically; The Departed has a scene patterned after the murder of Putty Nose. Stanley Kubrick and actor Malcolm McDowell were also admirers — no wonder, then, that McDowell’s lead performance in Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange borrows some of Tom Powers’ mannerisms and gestures.

What to look for: Since the film was released during the so-called Pre-Code era (after Hollywood’s Production Code had been established but before it was enforced), there are a few things in it that are slightly randier than what you’d have seen in a movie from later in the decade. Perhaps it would be a fun game to watch the movie and try to guess what had to be cut out when it was re-released in 1941, when the Code was in full effect.

If you don’t feel like guessing, here’s some of what had to go: the scene with the outrageously gay tailor who flirts with Tom while measuring him for a suit (“Such a muscle!” he says, squeezing his bicep); the moment when Mamie (Joan Blondell) serves Matt breakfast in bed, which implies they slept together; and the scene in which Tom gets drunk with Paddy Ryan’s girlfriend and is seduced by him. All of this is restored in the DVD versions now available. But other elements that were cut — and a few had to go even for the original 1931 release — are presumably lost forever.

The movie starts with a disclaimer to let us know that it intends to “honestly depict” certain unseemly elements of society, and not to “glorify the hoodlum or criminal.” The Production Code forbade such glorification and mandated that criminals be punished, and while Code enforcement was pretty lax in 1931, this was something Warner Bros. couldn’t get around. Besides, audiences were well acquainted with the real-life criminals who inspired The Public Enemy, many of whom had become folk heroes of sorts. There may have been legitimate cause for concern about whether a movie like this would encourage similar behavior. At the very least, there were valid reasons to have a conversation about it. Of course, even with the disclaimer, and even with the “crime doesn’t pay” moral at the end, audiences loved Tom Powers. That was the point, after all, no matter what the studio said in its press releases.

James Cagney and Edward Woods were originally cast in the opposite roles, with Woods in the lead and Cagney as his sidekick. Exactly what prompted director William Wellman to switch them is unclear, but the predominant story is that Wellman saw Cagney’s scene-stealing work in The Millionaire (which the same studio, Warner Bros., had shot but not yet released), recognized his magnetism, and decided he’d be better as the lead. You’ll notice that the Public Enemy scenes showing Tom and Matt as adolescent boys have Tom as the taller one, while the grown-up versions of those characters are the other way around. That’s because the scenes with those younger actors had already been filmed when Wellman made up his mind, and no one thought it was worth the expense of reshooting them.

What’s the big deal: James Cagney’s electric style of acting became the standard for tough guys throughout the 1930s, and was an influence on the hard-boiled detectives of 1940s film noir. Gangster pictures have been a regular presence in Hollywood ever since, often following the same pattern of the criminal’s rise to power, his success, and his downfall. And while all of the real violence takes place off-screen, The Public Enemy nonetheless came across as a savage and unforgiving portrayal of crime, helping open the door for portrayals that have gotten bloodier and bloodier over the years.

Further reading: Mark Bourne’s review of the 2005 DVD edition is a great overview of the movie and its significance, as is Richard Maltby’s essay at Senses of Cinema.

Tags: james cagney, little caesar, the public enemy, what's the big deal?