Review: HIGHEST 2 LOWEST

 by Rob DiCristino

Spike. Denzel. Cinema.

As its title suggests, Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low is an exercise in verticality, a story about a Japanese footwear magnate — played with uncharacteristic reserve by Kurosawa mainstay Toshiro Mifune — whose struggle to retain controlling interest in his company is exacerbated by the kidnapping of his chauffeur's young son. The kidnapper demands a hefty ransom, putting our businessman in a moral quandary: What responsibility does a rich man have to a poor man? What do those who live in ivory towers owe to those who litter about in the slums below? Ever the visual perfectionist, Kurosawa’s blocking and camerawork emphasize this tenuous relationship between high and low lives, in turn questioning the rapid industrialization — and thus, capitalization — of post-World War II Japan. Adapting Evan Hunter’s novel King’s Ransom, Kurosawa literally bisects his film into two distinct acts, a “heaven” and “hell” motif that highlights the inevitable resentment inherent in any system built on divides between economic classes.

Moving Kurosawa’s ‘60s Yokohama story to 2025 New York City, Spike Lee’s Highest 2 Lowest injects it with a freshness and vitality that only our fiercest maestro could conjure up. Denzel Washington is David King, whose uncanny ear for talent helped him build Stacking Hits Records, the early aughts’ most prolific label for black artists. Eager to fend off a buyout by a scrappier upstart — and stave off his own descent into obsolescence — King prepares to purchase his partner’s (Michael Potts as Patrick) shares and override any potential plots his greedy board of directors may hatch. But when Kyle (Elijah Wright), son of his right-hand man (Jeffrey Wright as Paul), is kidnapped, King must decide whether the boy’s life is worth sacrificing the future that he and his wife (Ilfenesh Hadera as Pam King) always imagined. King claims to be a black philanthropist, a black visionary invested in black youth and black potential. But how far does that cultural solidarity go? Does Kyle deserve it? Does anyone deserve it?

Distinguished and rapturous where so many reboots are obtuse and half-hearted — including Lee’s own misguided 2013 Oldboy adaptation — Highest 2 Lowest joins The Thing, Scarface, Ocean’s Eleven, and others in a class of remakes that actually deserve to exist, those that remix familiar chord progressions into a song that feels fresh and new. Lee expertly transposes Kurosawa’s complex themes and elegant motifs into a higher key and — if I can stretch this metaphor any further — a swifter tempo, extolling the extravagance of King’s empire before revealing the shallow promise upon which it’s been built. King had the ear in the ‘90s, sure, and he’s taken every opportunity to catalog his rise from street-wise hustler to boardroom powerhouse. He’s got the swagger, but it’s starting to feel affected to those closest to him — including his son, Trey (Aubrey Joseph), whom the kidnappers initially meant to hold for ransom — who wonder if he’s too consumed with business deals to really hear the music pulsing around him.

That’s where aspiring rapper Yung Felon comes in, but to talk too much about his role in all this would spoil the film’s final movement, a bravura showcase from Washington and, it has to be said, the largely untested but nonetheless impressive ASAP Rocky. What really matters here is King’s moral journey, how pleas for empathy from Patrick, Trey, and Paul — Wright does subtle but devastating work — challenge his air of propriety and self-possession. “A man can’t leave the way he came in; he’s got to add up to something,” a character reminds him; it’s an adage King’s probably repeated in celebration but may forget in harder times. So, what has King’s work added up to? Lee surrounds him with images of black excellence, pioneers of the past who were also asked to set ego aside for a higher purpose. But should he have to make those sacrifices? Is he black first, or rich? Is he father, a friend? A man? Should he hold the door open for these young artists — including singer Ice Spice in a show-stopping cameo — or close it behind him?

Highest 2 Lowest is a thriller, of course, so the answers will come through hostage negotiations, subway shootouts, and police chases — Dean Winters delights as the Obnoxious White Cop in the Spike Lee Movie — and your mileage will vary on whether Lee’s more ostentatious flourishes detract from his narrative intentions. But as we close out another underwhelming summer, one that forced us to give B-plus offerings like Superman credit simply because they manage not to spiral into unintelligible noise, Highest 2 Lowest’s glee and zeal should remind us that fortune favors the bold and that great cinema comes when we take great chances. Even a master like Spike Lee might have balked at the thought of remaking Kurosawa, but those with something to say should always have a venue to say it. Highest 2 Lowest has a lot to say — about what it means to be a minority, about what it means to be an artist, about what it means to be a parent, a mentor, rich, poor — and we should count ourselves lucky that voices like Spike’s are still around to say it.

Highest 2 Lowest hits U.S. theaters today and streams on AppleTV+ on September 5th.