Conversing from HIGHEST 2 LOWEST
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| even if Denzel is giving "hello fellow kids" a little here, he's remains immaculate |
*this is a spoiler free review (though granted I allude to the nature of the ending once or twice)*
Ever an exercise in at best redundancy and at worst, capitalistic cannibalism, the remake, allowing for the occasional exception, and with even further rarity the odd improvement, stands ever tall as a Hollywood staple. The film industry, and with certain parallels culture at large, have long been engaged in these microwave-like processes of cheap re-heatings, though in recent years the plastic shot for shot recreations, reanimations or dare I say desecrations, have set their plague upon a typically eager populace with increasing severity. While its obvious nostalgic cheapness is typically cause for corporate salivation, it ought to go without saying that this business strategy, if initially a viagra for the marketing department, comes with a pre-built expiration date. There are only so many times something can be recreated and rebooted and reimagined before there is nothing left to pull from. Eventually something original must be created, and while this sentiment has already become a loaded critical phrase, the truth behind it feels still under-appreciated. It is then against this backdrop, awash and perhaps even complicit in this ever hollowing ecosystem, that living legend Spike Lee has released his 5th collaboration with Denzel Washington, a film called Highest 2 Lowest, a remake.
It may seem perhaps paradoxical, if not outright contradictory, that when Lee announced he would be remaking the hallowed ground of none other than all time cinematic luminary Akira Kurosawa, and that it was to be one of Kurosawa’s greatest canonical works, rather than feel revulsion as expected, I felt intrigued. Sure, Kurosawa remakes are not uncommon and some are even successful. Sergio Leone didn't even ask when he copied Yojimbo, though in one example, A Fistfull of Dollars remains an enduring classic of the western genre. Yet, despite the outliers, there is something innate that feels precarious about refashioning anyone's work, let alone a legendary cinematic figure. When my favorite Kurosawa film Ikiru was remade a few years ago, I refused to even watch (however, in the years since I’ve gained an appreciation for that film's screenwriter the novelist Kazuo Ishiguro, which may cause me to give his version an actual chance). With both Ikiru, Yojimbo, and High and Low it can't be ignored that these films are masterpieces through and through, in craft, in idea, in influence. Yet, the truth is while I still feared the potential slight on a master's legacy, both thanks the time that passed since Kurosawa’s film and in the voice which would be stepping behind the camera, when I heard Spike was tackling this material, even considering his track record for remakes, it seemed that perhaps there might be space for a new consideration. Spike Lee has ever been one of cinema’s most vibrant and exciting voices and if he felt remixing Kurosawa would find something for him to express, I was willing to listen.
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| another best actor of all time Toshiro Mifune as Kurosawa's king in High and Low (1963) |
The resulting film, Highest 2 Lowest, is in one hand reverent and in the other completely disinterested. Initially, the film is a little off-putting, if not outright inconsistent. Denzel Washington remains probably the greatest living actor and as such he continuously, with great energy and seemingly little effort, commands the screen. By and large this does indeed make up for the rest of the cast, who are mostly spotty in their support of him, with major exceptions in both Jeffery Wright and, perhaps surprisingly, A$AP Rocky. Unfortunately, even with Denzel in full form, there are indeed moments where, whether by fault of script, direction, or performance, these ill-fated beats simply do not land. Initially, the thriller aspects of Lee’s film, elements which so defined Kurosawa’s vision, are underwhelming, accompanied by a bizarre score and structured with a melodramatic tension which exposes the rust in their gears. We have, sometimes literally, seen these ideas play out before. However, these initial doubts eventually reveal themselves to be more intentional than a first glance may consider and as the film progresses, and more of Lee’s goals become clear, the film reveals itself capable of several almost breathtaking sequences, let alone remaining consistently entertaining. It is in that divide between Kurosawa's thrilling plot and Spike Lee’s execution where his voice, occasionally literally, sings.
Where Kurosawa stared at the gulf between his kidnapper and his King with humanity, Lee does not shirk this but instead refashions it into a mediation on his own personal culture and career. The trappings of plot then are really secondary, merely a mechanism for Spike and Denzel Washington to once more collaborate and, as another auteur attempted last year, “have a conversation about the future.” The function of the remake then becomes that conversation, a link, between the monumental past, Lee’s aging present, and some unknown future, ending ultimately rather hopefully, as Lee somehow finds a satisfactory way to make a case for his own influence to continue, without completely selling out the future. This conversation can at times be bumpy, both in regards to Lee's age and his own conceptions about the modern world, however, overall it creates a compelling dynamic.
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| Kurosawa's interrogation from High and Low (1963) |
While perhaps not replicating his style, it still feels clear that to no small extent Lee worships Kurosawa, as most of us ought to, yet the film is honestly less interested in him and more in these deliberations. We do not have recreated shots, nor is the Lee's film anywhere close to as masterfully blocked and composed as even a frame from Kurosawa's movie. Yet, similar to Kurosawa, sub-textually, Lee positions himself as both kidnapper and king. Denzel has been his surrogate voice before, and the two of them have created legendary work, the peak of which comes in Malcolm X, one of the full stop greatest films and performances of all time. Here Lee clearly sees himself as this aging industry patriarch, one whose legendary work prerequisites every action. This would not work nearly as well without Denzel in the role, or if the two of them did not have "legendary work" upon which to build their foundation. Denzel’s King is split between his business and his family, a tension perhaps felt by Spike as he attempts to navigate a world that respects him which he does not fully understand. Yet, in this sense, Spike Lee sees himself also as Yung Felon, played with genuine screen presence and commitment by A$AP Rocky, who has hustled and who now quite literally kidnaps the work of a previous filmmaker, fashioning it for his own purposes.
In these two perspectives Spike stages his film and the few sequences where these characters go head to head are quite thrilling, both in the way they repurpose Kurosawa’s technique, yet also in the ways they funnel back and forth the different ideas across generations. On the one hand Lee does not comprehend much about the current world, though he readily is interested in the youth, and seems to truly want to embrace them, perhaps the way he felt embraced by, some of, those he respected from the past when his career was still in its infancy. If Kurosawa in part helped Lee find his own singular voice, Lee is hoping he can guide the next generation through as well, even if he does not fully understand them.
It then, as I already alluded, is difficult to not compare the film to Francis Ford Coppola’s like-minded, if less effective, treatise on the future/passion project/unfortunate misfire/abject disaster Megalopolis. However, while Coppola insisted his film wanted to have a conversation about the future, it spoke in ways foreign to the very same people it wanted to engage. It attempted simultaneous innovation, mediation, and provocation, all worthy causes if they were not suffocated by the film’s own inability to truly grasp progression. Coppola spent millions of dollars that could have in fact gone to the future, all while claiming that the money was a grand statement on the importance of art. Personally, there are elements of Megalopolis which I enjoyed, and certainly I find some sympathy for Coppola’s goals, yet the film is ultimately lesser than its lofty aspirations, which ultimately lets down the very same people it seems to think it is elevating.
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| Adam Driver's conversation about the future in Megalopolis (2024) |
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| a similar frame of Denzel |
While Highest 2 Lowest perhaps could be guilty of the same monetary transgressions (though certainly with less egregiousness), and there are not a few moments where I feel Lee is perhaps even overtly referencing Coppola’s film, Spike Lee’s film succeeds in genuine dialogue between the past and the future. Where Coppola fashioned an avatar for himself that was never wrong, played by (relatively) young man Adam Driver, Lee’s is aging. Where Coppola condescends, Lee interrogates. Even the way Spike changed the title communicates to this idea of generational conversation. Highest 2 Lowest. Highest to Lowest. A message from the mountaintop. Viewed through this lens, the film’s inert moments or even awkward executions, seem less egregious and more part of a greater whole.
When remaking a classic (this time), Spike Lee did not set out to craft the same film Kurosawa made, nor even to make it in the same genre. Highest 2 Lowest is not a full blown thriller. Instead, Lee wants to consider with us, and even if those considerations are inelegant on occasion, Denzel’s final line seems to me an echo of great optimism. Beyond the “boomer-core” moments, especially those in the initial scenes relating to cell phones (though Denzel’s innate magnetism almost sells it), beyond the spotty acting, I found the ultimate film to be simply put, genuine. Spike Lee is a legend, Akira Kurosawa is a legend, and the two come together here to interrogate if it’s even possible that there will be any more legends in the future. For what it’s worth, I think Lee believes it’s possible.
Just not in Boston.
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