One of the lesser known revolutionary filmmakers from the early

One of the lesser-known filmmakers to emerge from the '70s USC generation, John Milius was never destined for the sort of career his contemporaries like Spielberg and Coppola enjoyed. His fascination with historical figures, military history and weaponry of all sorts just didn't jibe with the audience that grew out of the hippie generation. But as a counter balance to the fading counter culture, his scripts for macho icons like Dirty Harry, Jeremiah Johnson and 1973's Dillinger (which he also directed) improbably found purchase in the rocky crags of Hollywood.

Shooting from the hip, Milius mixes fact with plenty of outrageous fiction in his story of Public Enemy #1, John Herbert Dillinger (Warren Oates), and his gang of colorful bank robbers whose depression era escapades turned them into populist heroes. FBI Chief Melvin Purvis (Ben Johnson) is the man charged with bringing Dillinger, plus notorious gangsters like Baby Face Nelson (Richard Dreyfuss) and Pretty Boy Floyd (Steve Kanaly), to justice...preferably not in a court of law.

An AIP release that was lost in the shuffle of a slew of better (and worse) Depression flicks over the years, Milius' film is a bit clumsy out of the gate. The pacing is haltingly episodic with Ben Johnson's lifeless voice-over narration trying in vain to tie things together. And Dillinger as a character - in particular his relationship with a love-interest Billie Frechette (Michelle Phillips) - is poorly developed with about as much depth as a paper target at a shooting range.

Milius seems out of his depth trying to shape the material as a whole, but he comes up with plenty of memorable cast-off scenes and characters. The supporting cast, including Harry Dean Stanton and Geoffrey Lewis, get almost as much screen time as the leads. And it's these creative detours that make the biggest impression, like an early scene with Stanton attempting to bully an elderly gas station attendant who seems immune to intimidation. Whenever the movie drifts off script, something interesting happens.

That's not to say that it's all happy accidents. The action scenes are, as one might expect with Milius' military obsessions, a carefully planned assault to the senses. While not as revolutionary as Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch, the farmhouse siege that pits Purvis against Dillinger's team of super villains is a cacophonous symphony of hot lead, gas fumes and hand grenades. Completely fictitious and historically inaccurate, but a real showstopper nonetheless.

And it's from this point on that the film gives up all pretense of focusing on Dillinger himself (Oates performance seems rushed and poorly coached anyway) and stretches out to show us the predictably violent fates of the rest of the gang against the backdrop of lonely Oklahoma roads, bridges and town squares. It's in these unexpected asides that Milius stumbles upon the right blend of mythmaking and moviemaking.

Arrow Video's Blu-ray / DVD combo is an unexpected but welcome surprise. The 2K restoration looks very nice, retaining the foggy '70s cinematography but adding tons of detail. Extras include an audio commentary with author Stephen Prince, interview with producer Lawrence Gordon, composer Barry De Vorzon and cinematographer Jules Brenner, plus stills, trailers and a collector's booklet.