If I had to predict a song that would open a Spike Lee movie, a show tune from “Oklahoma!” would not be in the same zip code, or perhaps even the same hemisphere, as the shortlist. But Norm Lewis’ exultant interpretation of “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” over the opening credits of “Highest 2 Lowest” only confirms that one of the elder statesmen of Black cinema is still discovering ways to surprise us. This iconic celebration of the American prairie is layered atop stirring aerial vistas of New York City, and it won’t be the last time the director deploys audiovisual juxtapositions to convey a sense of jarring complexity in his storytelling.
Streaming now on Apple TV+ and screening at Silverspot Cinema in Coconut Creek, “Highest 2 Lowest” is a modern-day homage to Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 police procedural “High and Low,” and while it is set astutely in the zeitgeist, Lee directs the picture in a state of rapturous nostalgia—for the sweeping moral pretzels of Kurosawa, the heyday of R&B radio and, yes, the soaring melodies of Rodgers and Hammerstein. Punctuated by live performances—a solo serenade on acoustic guitar, a street concert by Eddie Palmieri’s Latin band, a rap fantasia from a jail cell—“Highest 2 Lowest” is as much musical as thriller. It’s further anchored by a score of searching piano and sorrowful reeds placed contrapuntally behind cerebral dialogue that calls for no such accompaniment, framing the narrative in near-operatic terms.
For David King (Denzel Washington), the music mogul at the center of “Highest 2 Lowest,” his narrative will soon become a life-and-death tale worthy of such a grandiose treatment. From his surname to his tailored suits, pearly-white smile, and multimillion-dollar penthouse apartment with walls full of Basquiats, David presents as a titan of industry free of earthly worries. But the music business has been cratering, owing to streaming and A.I. and changing consumer habits, and while David may have graced the cover of every pop magazine 20 years ago, his star has faded and his touch is no longer as golden as his sleek Bose headphones. In fact, his label is facing acquisition by a water conglomerate, leaving David to ponder whether to reinvest his fortune to buy the company himself.
It’s during these consequential financial negotiations that David receives a phone call. A kidnapper has abducted his son, Trey (Aubrey Joseph), and is demanding a ransom of $17.5 million in Swiss francs, setting in motion a criminal investigation that also involves David’s chauffer, Paul (a superb Jeffrey Wright), and Paul’s son Kyle (Elijah Wright).
I’ll sidestep any spoilers here, but suffice it to say that additional vintage influences seep into Lee’s stylistic melting pot, namely the sort of hurtling 1970s urban thrillers of directors like John Frankenheimer and Peter Yates. Many of Lee’s films can be boiled down to New York City love letters, and “Highest 2 Lowest” is no exception, as the local color often competes with the plot for the viewer’s attention—like the convoy of Yankees fans that launch into an impromptu fight song on a crowded subway, and the bustling Puerto Rican Day Parade that provides a joyous distraction during a pivotal chase scene.
“Highest 2 Lowest” is a tightly plotted piece of entertainment, but like “Sinners” before it—a film Lee called the best he’s seen in years—it also marinates in literary themes, ideas and context. “All money ain’t good money,” David says, at his most enlightened, a truism that graces the movie’s poster. A complicated parable of race, wealth and privilege, the film exposes the two-tiered justice system that exists even within the Black community. It also proposes that capitalism will never fail to eat its own, and that no good deed will go unpunished.
If “Highest 2 Lowest” falters, it’s in the “out” that Lee gives to this proposition. Its denouement provides a solace that Kurosawa’s original film lacks, a suggestion that “good money” is in fact possible. More persuasive are David’s previous tet-a-tets with his antagonist, in which crime and punishment are just part of the symbiotic relationship between producer and talent, exploiter and exploited, fame and infamy, all of it distilled in hip-hop argot.
Is Lee softening with age, by not cutting to black after landing such a resonant, pessimistic point about our times? Perhaps, but given how freshly enchanted he is with the craft of filmmaking, it’s a concession I’m willing to make.
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