The Hollywood Mob

This month, coinciding perfectly with the release of Michael Mann's Public Enemies, the British Film Institute hosts a series of high-quality gangster films made between the Great Depression and the end of the millennium. It is entirely possible that the scheduling of the series is a deliberate commentary on the times, as the public has long preferred ruthless criminals who rob with a Tommy gun to weasel-like MPs who rob with a fountain pen.

And why not? For those of us who secretly believe that gangster movies are the only ones worth making - despite our obsequious lip service to Truffaut and Antonioni - the timing could not be better. Aficionados of gangster movies view reality as a daisy chain connecting one gangland saga to the next, with ordinary life - family, children, career, lunch - occurring in between. We do not need an uninterrupted stream of gangster movies to survive, and we certainly do not need half-hearted twaddle like Knockaround Guys to function properly - but we cannot tolerate long gaps between high-quality releases.

I personally could not have survived the last five years without having at least one top-shelf gangster movie to look forward to annually. Last year it was In Bruges; the year before, American Gangster. The year before that, my life was brightened by The Departed, Martin Scorsese's fine remake of Andrew Lau's even better Infernal Affairs. In 2006, gangster movie lovers had to make do with Lucky Number Slevin, the only Josh Hartnett vehicle worth watching. But a half-decent gangster movie is still better than none. The Dark Knight was also sort of a gangster movie; Heath Ledger, a superb villain, just went and spoiled everything for everyone by dying so young. Without a rivetingly amoral, gratuitously violent gangster movie to look forward to every year, life would not be worth living.

Gangsters themselves probably feel the same way. The BFI series offers a fine assortment of recidivist flavors. Dark, cynical Jimmy Cagney and Edward G Robinson shoot-'em-ups appear alongside congenial, fast-paced schlock such as Roger Corman's Dillinger (with Warren Oates setting the standard that Johnny Depp, playing Dillinger in Public Enemies, has to live up to) and artier fare like Sergio Leone's Once Upon A Time In America. Often referred to by addled critics as "a classic", Once Upon A Time In America is in fact laughably awful and unendurably long.

Still, in a summer when filmgoers must rely upon Jack Black, Will Ferrell and Christian Bale for thrills, even the most dismal gangster movie is a more appealing option. After taking in a few of these films, it will immediately become apparent to even the most prissy, lily-livered moviegoer why gangster films have retained their wide appeal since their inception. They never have people like Kate Hudson or Emma Thompson in them. And so far they have steered clear of Orlando Bloom.

• Gangsters is at the BFI Southbank, SE1, Thu to 31 Jul