Casting for William H. Macy’s directorial debut is well underway.

Hey, do you have a name? I don’t care really. You’re not famous. Neither is Frances Gumm. Or should I say JUDY GARLAND. Come on peeps, we all know they laughed at old Gummy’s face when she came to an audition. Why, Virginia McMath was probably a boffin before she became Ginger Rogers, and don’t even get me started on Archie Leach. What’s in a name? Well, I’m gonna show you.

Imagine that all that was once gold has turned to rusty iron. Yeah, it’s bad, but most of us have too many responsibilities and not enough in the bank, to just go swanning off for a year. But say if you were an unhappy, attractive American woman with money to spare who longs to “marvel at something”, then you probably wouldn’t find yourself laying about in your pjs, picking fluff out of your bellybutton. Most likely you would go galavanting off into the sunset. Puh-lease. Come back to the real world, Julia Roberts.

Michael Mann’s expertly crafted tale of Depression-era gangster John Dillinger’s final exploits looks good on paper, with standout performances from Johnny Depp and Christian Bale. But it fails to get to the heart of one of America’s craftiest criminals.