High and Low coming to America makes a lot of sense. Arguably more so than when Akira Kurosawa made it in Japan in 1963 -it was after all based on a U.S. book called King’s Ransom by Ed McBain. But Kurosawa made it his own, adapted it with technical novelty, rendered its themes universal -and it has remained a world cinema classic off of those merits. Spike Lee doesn’t accomplish quite as much in his remake, Highest 2 Lowest, which wears on its sleeve the influence of Kurosawa far more than McBain or any other one artist. But even in seemingly not changing much, he translates it impeccably for his culture and his moment. His title is fitting -the high and the low have only grown further apart in the last six decades.
High and Low was of course one of the sixteen classic collaborations between Kurosawa and the great Toshiro Mifune. Likewise, Highest 2 Lowest reunites Lee with arguably his best partner for the screen, Denzel Washington -for the first time in nineteen years. And there is a clear sense of energy and enthusiasm both from Lee behind the camera and Washington in front, to be working together again. It is a chemistry of artists that transcends -appropriate given the world this movie is set against.
In place of a footwear empire we have a powerful record label, Stackin’ Hits -founded by Washington’s David King for the express purpose of discovering and promoting new black artists. King remains one of its co-owners, but is looking to buy back his majority stake in the company to prevent its merger with another -a move he is against on principal more than profit, dissatisfied with the direction the label is headed in and wanting to get back to its roots. Putting up a considerable amount of capital for it, including his luxurious penthouse, the day before the deal he receives a call from a stranger who has kidnapped his son Trey (Aubrey Joseph) and demands a ransom of $17.5 million. Difficult though it is, King is ready to pay up, but later it is revealed that Trey is okay and that the kidnapper has abducted by mistake Kevin (Elijah Wright), the son of King’s driver and close friend Paul (Jeffrey Wright) …and suddenly King is less compelled to pay out.
As with many a Spike Lee joint, just about every shot is interesting or compelling. Rather than attempt to mimic the famous oners and blocking of the original film, he uses a plethora of cuts in the sequences at the home, emphasizing its grandeur and wealth and privilege, but through that also a sincerity on the part of King in regards to the core values of his business. Art pieces by Kehinde Wiley and Basquiat adorn his space, classic black records, and photos of iconic black musicians (it is repeated in a small and shrewd way in Trey’s bedroom, where in the corner of a frame is hung a Harris 2024 artistic rendering). Right away, Lee makes clear that his class dynamics are not simplistic -nor were they in the original, which also depicted its lead as a man of integrity in spite of the arc of his choices.
And yet those choices are worth interrogating -a notable change that Lee makes is in amplifying the role of the father to the son who is actually kidnapped. The chauffeur was a fairly minor figure in that film; here, he is drawn with more colour as a contrast to King, a man who has had a rougher go of life (a prison sentence is alluded to), who in spite of the security of his job still reads as a distinctly working-class figure to his friend, who through luck rose out of that status over time. When the mix-up is revealed, King’s hesitance comes with a more damning weight -the victim is someone he knows well, and Paul has to see where money truly runs up against friendship. The tension that emerges, even through Paul’s desperation, is palpable. And that is before the movie is compelled to bring up the pressure of social media -King being a famous enough figure his actions will have consequences on the public reputation of both him and his company, something that wasn’t a factor Kurosawa had to consider. The whole incident is public, and King refusing to pay the ransom for his chauffeur's kid becomes a scandal that impacts the whole family -even Trey, who wants his father to do the right thing. It is an added risk to the situation -social media watching his every move and being uncompromising in its judgement, its amplification of the moment as a microcosm of the war of class. Memes factor into this of course -relatively authentic ones too; the only thing missing is the contingent of alt-right talking heads defending King letting a poor person die.
Of course if you know the story, you know this conflict doesn’t last the duration, and where the principal action of the film is concerned, Lee does a very good job of both adhering to the original’s plot beats and siphoning them through his own style -the exchange on the subway for instance, which requires a little more suspension of disbelief for a modern film in terms of King’s involvement. But the juxtaposition of the operation being carried out with the festivities of a Puerto Rican Day event, not only keeps the energy up and gives it some rhythm, but smoothly retains a spotlight on cultural music -both the life-blood of King and a significant focus of the movie. There is also the way that the kidnapper, when he finally does appear on the scene played by a very solid ASAP Rocky, is framed by Lee, so as to homage the iconography of a critical beat in the story, but cast it also in a new light that works for his own commentary as well. He actually does this across two scenes, the latter a much more literal recreation. And of course because Lee likes to be scamp, when a crowd of rowdy Yankees fans get on the subway, it is beautifully petty the way he casts their jeers about Boston directly to camera.
But apart from his sports fandom, Lee indulges here too in his love of music and of the importance of black music against what the state of it is now. Despite featuring the likes of ASAP Rocky and Ice Spice in his cast, Lee doesn’t seem to have a lot of love for modern rap music -or at the very least the business of modern rap music, as is alluded to early when King rejects the buyout because of his dismay in music being produced for commercial interests only -something he worries Stackin’ Hits is on the path towards. He gets to reaffirm these values in the end, turning down the lucrative deal offered to him by the hottest new star -who in fact idolizes him- but whose values couldn’t be any more different. There is in some sense a generational component to this, King’s age being invoked by younger characters on a few occasions in the context of implicitly being out-of-touch -but Lee appears to side with the arguments of King’s generation, for some of the right reasons though in a way that still seems a touch shallow. As beautiful as the closing song is, performed by Aiyanna-Lee, its framing as the idealized opposite of a mock rap song shown with music video just a few minutes earlier, is a bit tough to parse with both the ambiguous characterization of King and the class politics the story otherwise attempts to relate. It almost tries to have things both ways about King being right with where he wants to devote his money.
Washington delivers well, as powerful a figure as always if maybe his performance lacks the thrill of previous collabs with Lee. Wright is quite good too, as is his son Elijah in the role of Kevin. Ilfenesh Hadera makes for a decent foil for Washington as well, again someone who can morally challenge him; and Lee allows for a few cameos -notably the late Eddie Palmieri during the Puerto Rican Day events, which also feature Anthony Ramos and Rosie Perez (her first reunion with Lee since her debut in Do the Right Thing). These appearances can provide some grounding for a movie that does present a somewhat sensational version of New York City. That is not critique, in fact the imagery is often a rich thing to behold. In spite of some thematic inconsistencies, Lee’s version of this story is still fun and interesting, dynamic and thoughtful in ways arguably more useful than they were for Kurosawa. Honouring its source while suitably transforming it, it is on the higher end of its titular spectrum.
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