REVIEW. Inspired by Akira Kurosawa, HIGHEST 2 LOWEST emerges as another Spike Lee original.

I just want to do the right thing.

-David King (Denzel Washington)

Since 1986, I have looked forward to the latest Spike Lee Joint. From School Daze to Malcolm X and Do The Right Thing to BlackKklansman, Lee's always edgy view of all things related to Black culture, in general, and New York City, in particular, has challenged existing stereotypes, encouraged dialogue, and changed the molecules that define American cinema. Like Martin Scorsese and Sydney Lumet, Lee has cultivated a perspective of New York that is clearly his own, unapologetically direct, and totally original. His newest film, Highest 2 Lowest, is no exception.

Comparisons to Akira Kurosawa's1963 masterpiece High and Low may pop up, but Lee's "modern-day re-imagining" of the Japanese classic, a neo-noir morality tale, is fresh, gritty, with just the kind of Spike Lee Joint swagger befitting an auteur director entering the autumn of his career. Less focused on police procedure than the original, Lee examines more closely the impact of culture: how it is constructed and distributed, destroyed and resurrected, dissecting the underpinings of movie production details and artistic integrity, from financing to creative ownership, in the process.

Recent reviews of H2L, including Richard Brody's recent assessment in The New Yorker, have noted a growing number of "late-career" shifts among some of Hollywood's most notable directors, citing Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola as prime examples. With these two, their subtle changes have been related to film financing - Scorsese sought independent investors for Killers of the Flower Moon, Coppola self-financed Metropolis (though not the first time he'd anted up for one of his passion projects). For Lee, who has owned his own production company throughout his career, the shift is more internal and personal, as he uses the tale of a recording industry executive (Denzel Washington) faced with a moral dilemma, to explore the price of preserving culture legacy by examining its impact on all who have been touched by it: those in the highest echelons of society...and, of course, the lowest.

As with Kurosawa's film - and the 1959 precinct novel by Ed McBain, King's Ransom, on which it was based, Highest 2 Lowest centers on a kidnapping that results from a case of mistaken identity. Washington's recording mogul David King is the quintessential self-made Black man who considers the money he has made and the empire he has built are exclusively his. He has achieved the highest level of industry success (50 Grammy awards), and Lee shows this wealth in countless ways: from David's tailored clothes and expensive jewelry to the glossy world King lives in (his high-rise Brooklyn apartment is decorated with originals by Basquiat), and the way people around him - from highest executive to lowest staff member - clamor for a smile or a kind world. But David, who sold his controlling interest in the recording label that made him a legend five years earlier, now fears his legacy may be lost if the holding company that controls most of the stock dismantles Stackin' Hits' creative, essentially Black-centric musical core. So he crafts a somewhat underhanded proposal to buy back his company, a decision that will put his entire fortune and reputation at risk.

David and his wife Pamela (Ilfenesh Hadera), are stalwart members of New York society and regular contributors to the Studio Museum in Harlem. They have a teenaged son named Trey (Aubrey Joseph) and a lot to lose if the proposed business venture falls short.

David's personal chauffeur is his childhood friend Paul (Jeffrey Wright), a widowed ex-con who also has a teenaged son. Kyle (Elijah Wright, the actor's son) and Trey are friends. When he playfully swipes Trey's sweatband at basketball practice, Kyle is subsequently mistaken for his Nepo buddy and kidnapped by an unidentified assailant. After receiving the ransom demand, David believes he has no choice but to pay it. He notifies the police, who locate Trey and bring him home, only to discover it was Kyle who was kidnapped by mistake. David is then faced with a different dilemma: should he pay the ransom for his friend Paul's son...or look for other options?

I'll not reveal any more of the plot at this point, as the telling of this particular story is complex, layered with cultural nuance, ethical conundrums, and personal challenges. Giving too much away may lessen a viewer's experience. But I will point out that the movie's success is dependent upon the identity of the kidnapper: who he is in relationship to David's career and what he represents to David's vision of Black culture. Both of those are critical in shaping the movie's narrative and in understanding the final resolution, which ultimately, arguably, speaks to Lee's own philosophy about being Black in America. Like the controversial ending of Do The Right Thing, the final frame of Highest 2 Lowest is likely to be the subject of discussion among film historians for years to come.

Lee remains one of our finest chroniclers of the Black experience and, as he has done in other films, continues to both raise up and probe the underlying issues that define, divide and determine the power of culture aesthetics. He punctuates the narrative with quick, snappy dialogue that drives the story and peels away layers of each character so that, by film's end, the essence of each key player is laid bare.

New York City is Lee's canvas, and he fills it with the chaos, energy, and pulsating diversity that are uniquely New York's. The editing is face-paced and quick, but also deliberate, as Lee carefully frames camera shots and angles to emphasize the movie's title and reinforce that we are seeing the city through David's eyes. In this way, New York takes on a life of its own, as the brilliant cinematographer Matthew Libatique shows it at once stunningly breathtaking, and then, frenetic and jarring. Libatique's camera work is as critical to Lee's story as the script and the actors.

Still, we are left with more questions as we follow the story to its anticipated conclusion. Have Lee's political views changed, or is he, once again, simply forcing us to re-examine our values, our perceptions, our very notions about race? Does success within Black society result in a paradigm shift in terms of how corporate American runs, or does each generation eventually succumb to its own cultural narcissism, molding ethical decision-making to suit its sense of what's right? Is Lee becoming more conservative in the way he chooses to resolve this complex story?

Like the provacateur he can be, Lee provides no definitive answers. Instead, he invites us to live inside David's head, to simultaneously embrace his success as a Black man and abhor what this unanticipated moral conflict turns him into. Washington, in his fifth collaboration with Lee (the last one, Inside Man, was almost 20 years ago), is both charming and repulsive, flashing a practiced fake smile whenever the situation warrants, then expressing indignation at the thought of shelling out $17.5 million to pay for Kyle's ransom. He and Spike have found their artistic rhythm as actor and director, and the result here, is as compelling as we've seen in their previous partnerships. No doubt, Washington's name will once again be bandied about during awards season nominations.

But the real performance belongs to the always astute Jeffrey Wright, whose quiet grief and utter fear at his son's kidnapping is underscored by a keen sense of street smarts and investigative acumen. Paul knows his status is far lower than David's and that he owes his post-prison rehabilitation, in part, to his childhood friend, but that doesn't dissuade him from getting in David's face, pushing questions of moral and human decency to their extreme. The scene in which he kneels alone on David's kitchen floor, kissing it after David has agreed to pay Kyle's ransom as a set-up to trap the kidnapper, is as powerful a moment as you might imagine.

Kudos also to rapper A$AP Rocky, the movie's lynchpin, who goes toe-to-toe and rap-to-rap with both Washington and Wright in scenes that are alternately tense, riveting and exhilerating. The final confrontation between Denzel and A$AP is one of the most syncopated, engaging life-or-death rap duels ever on film. Whenever A$AS is on screen, you can't take your eyes off him.

Ultimately, this movie comes back to themes of integrity: personal, artistic, cultural, moral. David King becomes a kind of music industry amalgam of self-made recording moguls like Berry Gordy and Russell Simmons, whose ability to create, market and distribute Black music to mainstream America changed the molecules of what constitutes American culture. How, though, does one maintain standards associated with the very highest art forms embraced by a capitalist society, especially if personal or aesthetic integrity might be compromised? Does one attempt to return to the way things once were or move forward?

Lee raises these and other questions throughout the film and, except for one somewhat clichéd chase sequence, stays on point with the movie's premise and essential conceit: "All money ain't good money." Just consider that in light of Black America and the desire to establish an enduring cultural legacy. Perhpas, as Paul suggests to David, "Sometimes you've got to do really crazy things to get on in this world."

Highest 2 Lowerst is one of the best films I've seen this year. It is vintage Spike Lee, revisiting themes of race and social class he's focused on before, but this time revised and renewed with 21st century sass, provocation and attitude. In this way, Lee speaks to a new generation of filmgoers without losing the interest of those who've been enjoying Lee's joints for decades.

*******

Highest 2 Lowest is currently playing in limited release in theaters and will be available to stream on AppleTV+ September 5. This is a must-see movie, so don't miss it.